Page 27 of Big, Burly Bodyguard

I can’t marry his brother. Even if it were in name only. If I’m going to be a Sinclaire, I want to do it with Mitchell, not with Mike.

I hope Birdie won’t be disappointed in me. And I hope I can delay my parents retrieving me if I’m still unmarried come Monday morning.

Now, the question is: do I discuss this with Mitchell, or just wait until we reach Las Vegas?

The following day passes in a blur of desert highways and distant mountains, the landscape stretching wide and endless. I do not enjoy the part of the drive over the Hoover Dam, entirely too high up for my comfort.

We don’t talk much—not because there’s nothing to say, but because everything feels too close to the surface. I watch Mitchell drive, steady and focused, and think about how these past few days have been the best of my life in ways I never could have imagined.

Flip-flops in the sand. Showers taken alone. Laughter without consequence. Choice without permission.

I know what waits for me at the end of this road, and the knowledge settles over me like a quiet mourning. I’m not ready to say goodbye to him—to the safety of his presence, to the way he looks at me like I matter simply because I exist. So I hold the moment as long as I can, pressing it into my memory, knowing that once we reach Vegas, everything will change.

chapter

thirteen

Mitchell

“I know you were probably hoping to go to the hotel and change or whatever, but we don’t have time,” I say.

“I know. It’s okay. Doesn’t really matter what I’m wearing.”

Her voice sounds resolved, but also so fucking sad. It’s like a kick to my solar plexus.

We’re late. Traffic outside Vegas had been a mess—construction, an accident, the universe apparently conspiring to make this harder than it already is.

I pull into the parking lot outside the chapel, the neon sign blinking cheerfully like nothing in the world is wrong.

I kill the engine and turn to Evie.

“You ready?” I ask.

She nods, but her smile is tight. Brave. Too brave.

I step out first, instinctively moving around the truck to help her down, my hand settling at her waist like it belongs there. She leans into me without thinking, and that small, unconscious trust almost undoes me.

Inside, everything smells like flowers and cheap cologne and promise.

Mike is already there, wearing a fucking tux, because of course he is.

He turns when he sees me, confusion flashing across his face. “I didn’t think you were going to stay for this.”

“I tried calling you,” I say immediately. “Texting. Voicemail. For days.”

He winces. “Yeah. About that.”

“That’s not an answer,” I say, stepping closer, my body angling subtly in front of Evie.

Mike runs a hand through his hair. “My phone got smashed. Dropped it in a parking lot in Tokyo right before I got on my plane. The screen shattered. Completely dead. I didn’t get a replacement until an hour ago.”

I stare at him, disbelief curling low in my gut.

“You didn’t think to borrow someone else’s?” I ask flatly.

He opens his mouth, then closes it. “In hindsight, yes. Obviously.”

Evie’s fingers curl into the back of my jacket, and that’s it. That’s the moment everything inside me locks into place. She’s no different than a business transaction to him. So, of course, he wasn’t in a rush to talk to me.