I mumble a thanks and then turn away, my hand curled into a fist at my side, jaw locked so tight it aches. Every worst-case scenario runs like a reel through my head—her parents in her ear, Elliot showing her off like a trophy, Madeline stuck there alone because I wasn’t where I was supposed to be.
Jesus Christ,Jesse. I waited too long. I let myself get too distracted. And now the one person I should have put first is hundreds of miles away.
I head straight to my office. This isn’t the time for regret. I don’t need to replay what I should’ve done or catalog every wrong turn that led me here. None of that helps her. None of that gets me to Madeline.
I already know what I need to do.
I close the door behind me with more force than necessary and then dig out my phone. I don’t sit. I don’t hesitate. My pulse steadies the second the plan clicks into place. I’m not going to overthink it. I’m not going to ask for permission.
I’m going to her.
By the time my feet hit the terminal floor in Bluewater,everything that could’ve gone wrong already has.
Yesterday, there were no flights. Not one. I’d stood in my office staring at my phone like that might somehow bend reality in my favor. It didn’t. I booked the first flight out this morning instead. After getting maybe forty minutes of sleep last night thanks to the adrenaline buzzing beneath my skin all night, I shot out of bed and made the drive to the airport at the crack of dawn.
Then the flight got delayed. Then it was cancelled all together a couple of hours later due to a mechanical issue. I almost lost my mind at the gate.
I managed to get a seat on the next one out, which thankfully took off on time. It touched down one hour before the gala starts, and I pushed my way off the plane and sprinted through the airport like the place was on fire.
Now I’m in the back of a cab, checking my watch every 30 seconds or so. I pull my phone out again and stare at the screen for what feels like the hundredth time since the plane touched down. Still no reply. I scroll up to the text I sent to Madeline from the airport back home, the words still raw on the screen.
Me: I’m on my way to Bluewater, Mads. This isn’t how I wanted to apologize, but I need you to know how sorry I am. Don’t go with Elliot tonight. Don’t listen to your parents’ mind games. I’ll explain everything, I swear. Justwait for me.
I exhale then close out the screen right before the car comes to a halt in front of the same hotel I stayed at with Madeline the last time we were here. Memories of that weekend with her run through my mind. The mix-up at the front desk and the look on her face when thewoman behind the counter told her there was only one room. The hot tub and the lengths it took to talk her into getting in with me. The way she looked in her bra and panty set when she finally relented. That night sleeping next to her and breakfast together the next morning.
I shake it off as I throw cash at the driver and bolt for the hotel doors, shoulder-checking my way inside to where a long line has formed at the front desk. I strain my neck, trying to see what’s causing the backup. I groan when I see the family of five that is currently camped out in front of the desk—parents arguing, kids sprawled across the marble floor, luggage strewn everywhere.
The guy behind the desk smiles patiently, typing at a pace that feels deliberately cruel. I drag a hand down my face and glance at my phone again. Still nothing from Madeline.When it’s finally my turn, I rush forward so quickly I nearly collide with the counter.
“Checking in,” I say. “Jesse Winters.”
After tapping at his keyboard for what seems like way longer than necessary, he glances up. “Yes. We have you booked into room 712.”
Relief hits so fast it almost knocks me sideways. “Great. That’s the room I requested.”
He gives a tight, apologetic smile. “As we discussed on the phone, it’s only available for tonight. You’ll need to vacate by 10 a.m.”
“Understood,” I say without hesitation. “That’s fine.”
He slides the key card across the counter. I snatch it up, already turning away.
“Room 712,” he repeats.
“Got it,” I say, already moving toward the elevator. I stab the button once, then again like that might help. When the doors finally open, I step inside and pace as it crawls upward, floor by agonizing floor. I’m out as soon as the elevator arrives at the seventh floor, sprinting down the hall, card shaking in my hand as I swipe it at the door. The lock clicks and I push it open, tossing my bag on the bed. Once I’ve changed, I take a quick glance at my reflection in the full-length mirror. I’m dressed in a crisp white button-down shirt, tux and bowtie. I run a hand through my hair, exhale hard, and then I’m gone, heart racing.
By the time I step foot in the ballroom, I’m running on nothing but fumes and sheer determination.
Getting into this gala wasn’t luck. It was planning. A phone call made somewhere over the Rockies with a donation large enough to smooth over any questions got my name added to the guest list. Money talks with a crowd like this and tonight, it opened doors—literally. And now I’m here, surrounded by big egos in black tie.
The room is massive. Giant chandeliers drip glass, tables are draped in white linen, and waitstaff glide through the space practically unnoticed.
I scan the room, looking for her. My pulse pounds in my ears as I search faces, dresses, familiar silhouettes. I’ve been playing this scene through my head since yesterday, but nothing could have prepared me for how it feels when my eyes finally land on her. Madeline, standing in the middle of the crowded room, a glass of champagne in her hand, wearing a dress that looks like it was poured onto her in a deep forest green. Her red lips are bold against her skin, smoky eyes dulled with sadness she’s trying to hide—all of it makes her more beautiful even than I remember. And then I see Elliot standing beside her with his hand resting on the small of her back.
My jaw locks.
I cut through the crowd toward them, watching Elliot talk toa group of men in expensive suits. I can’t hear what they’re saying but the guy is clearly in his element, commanding the attention of the others. Madeline smiles when she is supposed to, spine stiff. Her gaze drifts past the group, unfocused and distant like she’s somewhere else entirely.
I’m a few steps away when Madeline’s parents appear at her side, dragging her attention to them. Elliot doesn’t notice, carrying on his conversation, already moving a step away like she is a new accessory he’s finished showing off.
