It’s Thursday night, and my day has been hell. Just one meeting after another. All day long. I’m over it, and it’s not even done. I still have so much work to do.
I’m supposed to meet Jordan tomorrow at lunchtime to get this thing done. Get married.
I grip the back of my hair, pulling, then grab my phone.
Jordan. Don’t do this. Please. We already told everyone we’re married.
I’m fucked if you bail on me now.
Yeah. I’m a total dick. But I don’t have the time for fucking manners. I’m too invested in this for her to shut it down now.
Christ.I’m stressed to the max.
My heart races as I pull up the FindMy app. I snuck into Jordan’s phone a few weeks ago at lunch and shared her location with me.
We used to share everything. Passwords. Locations. Life.
She still knows my password.
I know hers too.
I don’t care what she’ll say about it. It’s a safety thing. She thinks I’m possessive. I know I’m protective. I follow everyone in Jensen’s family, including Alley. They all follow me. It’s just what we do.
She’s at her apartment in SoHo. I’ve never been to her new place. She’s only lived there since she left Richard. Of course she’s never invited me over. We haveboundariesnow.
I’m the last one at the office tonight, so I lock up and ride the elevator down, face buried in my phone the whole time. I hail a cab and pull up the address on her location.
Ten minutes later, I’m standing outside a building I hope is hers. I have no clue which floor she’s on or what door is hers. And worse than that, I need someone to buzz me in.
“Shit,” I say, trying the doors again. I huff out a breath and sit on the stairs, letting my head fall to my hands. I guess I wait for Jordan to text me back or for someone to open the door.
I open Instagram and pull up Jordan’s profile, seeing if she’s posted anything on her story today. Anything to give me a clue aboutwhy she’s suddenly panicking.She’sthe one who jumped the gun with the whole being married thing at the funeral. She seemed confident. Controlled.
It freaked me out for a minute, but it was really cool of her. A total turn-on.
A familiar voice cuts through my thoughts. “What are you doing?”
Jordan.
I look up to find her standing in front of me, arms full with a bag of groceries.
“Waiting for you. You sent me that text and then you just fucking ghosted me.”
She purses her lips. “I didn’t ghost you. I went to grab a few things and left my phone. I needed to clear my head, and it’s a nice night, so… I took my time.” She scowls. “Wait—how do you know where I live? I’ve never given you my address.”
My mouth curves on one side. “FindMy App.”
“But I never—” She stops mid-sentence, shakes her head, and takes two steps up to me. She puts her bag in my arms. “Here.” She climbs the rest of the stairs and enters her code.
I stand and turn, staring, dumbfounded at how impassive she’s being. Like she didn’t just cry wolf and send me spiraling.
“You coming?” she calls over her shoulder.
“Yep,” I call back, then mutter, “Fucking Christ.”
I step in beside her at the elevator.
“Um, my apartment…” She glances at me. “It’s not really ready for company. I would have picked up if I’d known you were coming.”
