“I’ll call you later. Love you.”
I hung up before she could say anything else, my heart hammering so hard I could feel it in my temples. The engine roared to life, and I threw the car into reverse, nearly backing into a Honda Civic that had the audacity to be driving through the parking lot at that exact moment.
“Move,” I shouted through my closed window, which accomplished nothing except making me feel marginally better.
I pulled out onto the main road and called Owen.
It rang once. Twice. Three times.
Voicemail.
“Are you kidding me?” I ended the call and tried again. “Of all the times to not answer your phone, you pick now? Now?”
Voicemail again.
“Owen, I swear to…”
I tried a third time, weaving through traffic probably faster than was strictly legal, my knuckles white on the steering wheel.
Voicemail.
“Answer. Your. Phone.”
I was shouting at no one. In my car. Like a crazy person.
This was fine. Everything was fine.
Except nothing was fine. Nothing was even remotely close to fine. Jax knew about us; he was furious, Owen wasn’t answering his phone, and in approximately fourteen hours, we were supposed to be boarding a plane to get married in secret.
A secret that was no longer a secret.
CHAPTER 37
OWEN
The kitchen smelledlike garlic and rosemary.
I adjusted the flame under the pan, watching the butter sizzle around the edges of the chicken breast I’d been nursing for the past twenty minutes. Cooking had never been my strong suit, but tonight was different.
Tonight, everything had to be perfect.
My gaze drifted from the stove to the dining table I’d set up in the living room. White tablecloth, candles flickering in the center, two wine glasses, and a small vase with red roses I picked up from the grocery store, slightly wilted but passable.
It looked like something out of a rom-com. The kind Harlow made me watch every other night. The ones I pretended to hate but secretly didn’t mind because she always ended up curled against my chest, and I got to feel her laugh vibrate through my ribs.
I was so far gone for this woman, it was embarrassing.
My eyes landed on the counter, where a small black velvet box sat.
Two carats. Oval cut.
I wanted to do this right.
Vegas was still happening. Tomorrow morning, at six a.m., we would be on a plane to get married.
The chicken sizzled, and I flipped it with slightly more force than necessary, my nerves making my hands clumsy. I checked the time on my phone. She’d be home any minute. Traffic from campus was usually light this time of day, but knowing Harlow, she’d probably stopped to grab a coffee or gotten distracted by a bookstore or…
My phone vibrated against the counter.
