I felt my eyes widen so fast it almost hurt.
Engagement?
ENGAGEMENT?
My heart slammed against my ribs. Sophie? And Lucas? Secretly engaged?
I froze.
Lucas continued, voice cracking at the edges.
“If your grandmother finds out, she’ll split us apart. She already hates me.”
Sophie shook her head, tears tracking down her cheeks. “She doesn’t hate you.”
“She does,” Lucas insisted. “And she’ll never approve. You know that.”
Sophie’s voice wavered, pulling the night tight around us.
“I’m tired of pretending I’m nothing to you. I’m tired of acting like we’re strangers.”
Lucas reached for her hands, gently, reverently, like they were something precious.
“You’re not nothing,” he whispered. “You’re everything to me. You’re the woman I’m going to marry.”
Sophie let out a trembling breath, her forehead resting against his for a moment that felt too intimate for anyone to witness.
I stepped back.
My heart thudding in my chest because this was huge. Life-changing. Messy. Complicated.
And absolutely none of it was meant for me to know.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I woke up feeling like someone had stuffed my skull with gravel and shaken it for fun.
A wedding planner hangover was a rare, stupid indulgence, one I never usually allowed myself during an event weekend, but last night’s hens/bucks fusion mayhem hadn’t exactly been compatible with hydration, moderation, or wise life choices.
Still, I managed to wrestle myself into clean clothes, smooth my hair into something vaguely respectable, and fight my way through the dull throb in my head.
By the time Cleo and I reached the breakfast room, we were both upright, composed, and smiling… even if Cleo’s left eye was twitching like it wanted to leave her body.
“Remember,” I whispered as we approached the doorway, “we are professionals.”
“Iamprofessional,” she whispered back, holding a clipboard and an electrolyte bottle like holy items. “I just happen to also be… dying.”
“Just do it quietly,” I reminded her.
We stepped inside.
The sun was far too bright. The air far too loud. And the scene before us… well.
It was carnage.
Hungover, wealthy carnage.
Cleo inhaled sharply. “Oh my god.”
