Noah moved beside me, expression tense. “You actually think she went there?” he asked.
I blew out a breath. “I think she wasn’t thinking clearly. And when people aren’t thinking clearly, they go somewhere to be alone.”
“That can turn dangerous pretty quickly out here.”
“That’s why we’re going.”
Behind us, Margaret began wailing again.
Lady Victoria sighed. “At this rate,” she said, her words carrying on the breeze, “I shall need a holiday next month just to recover from the wedding.”
I did not bother turning around.
We had a vineyard to search.
“Wait… where’s Ethan?” Lucas said, noticing what everyone else had somehow failed to.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Every head snapped up.
I blinked. “Ethan’s not with you?”
Lucas shook his head, suddenly pale. “He left the rehearsal dinner right after I told him to grow up. Haven’t seen him since.”
Great.
Wonderful.
Missing bride. Missing best man.
Exactly the kind of headline that ends careers and gets dissected on breakfast television.
Emma let out a strangled sound. “You don’t think they’re together?”
“No,” James said firmly, but his voice shook. “Caroline wouldn’t. And Ethan, he wouldn’t…” His sentence trailed off, hollow.
Cleo suddenly gasped loud, enough for everyone to jump. “Oh! Oh! I, hang on, give me a second—”
She was digging through her phone with the speed and determination of someone trying to defuse a bomb.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Social media,” she muttered, fingers flying. “Carolines tagged in a million things every week. Fans, brands, influencers, someone somewhere must’ve posted something in the last few hours.”
Margaret clutched her chest. “You mean strangers have access to my daughter’s whereabouts?”
Lady Beaumont didn’t even look up. “Margaret, everyone has access to your daughter’s whereabouts. She’s famous.”
Cleo swore under her breath. “Nothing, nothing, nothing, wait. Oh my god. Holly. LOOK.”
She held the screen towards me.
A blurry photo. Posted thirty minutes ago. Tagline: “Spotted?? Pretty sure this is Caroline Harrington at the Sand and Sip!!”
I pinched to zoom.
The image sharpened just enough for my heartbeat to stop hammering: Caroline, sitting on a low stone wall at a seaside lookout. Wind in her hair. Coffee cup in hand. Looking out to the ocean.
