Why does he always call her that? And why does she look at him like that when he does? Do they… know each other? No, that can’t be. Can it?
Their eyes locked, a silent conversation crackling between them, and it felt intrusive to witness. Then, as if breaking a spell, Chloe tore her gaze away, bolting toward the door with a wail that echoed through the house.
“If Dean doesn’t come back to me before tomorrow, I’m going to kill myself in my wedding dress!” Her voice pierced the air, shrill and desperate, leaving a trail of gasps in its wake.
Mom and Alyssa sprang into action, scrambling after her, calling her name with urgency. Their voices faded as they chased her into the house, but Chloe didn’t respond. She was gone, leaving behind an oppressive silence that felt as though it could swallow us whole.
My father turned to me, his expression thunderous, a storm brewing in his eyes. “You’d better fix this, Savannah,” he seethed, his words heavy with unspoken threats. “Or else-” The sentence hung in the air, unfinished yet laden with meaning. His gaze flicked toward Roman before narrowing back at me. “You know exactly what I mean.”
My stomach dropped at the implication. I did know. If I didn’t manage to rectify this situation, he would spill everything to Roman. About all of it.
He pivoted then, his attention shifting towards Roman. “I’d like a word with you. In private.”
Roman’s demeanor shifted, his jaw tightening as he regarded my father. After a beat, he gave a curt nod, a silent agreement passing between them. Dad stormed off, leaving me alone with little Emily, who stood glued to Roman’s leg, her wide eyes reflecting the tension in the air. She knew. I could see it in her gaze. She already understood that Roman was her uncle.
Roman crouched down, brushing his thumb gently over my wrist where Chloe’s nails had left their mark. His eyes searched mine, concern etched on his features. “Are you okay?”
I swallowed hard, nodding despite the turmoil inside. “It’s nothing.” My voice was barely above a whisper, quieter than I had intended. “I need to find Dean.”
Desperation surged within me, urging me to move, to escape the suffocating atmosphere, to do something before everything spiraled out of control.
“Savannah, wait,” Roman called after me, his tone firm yet softer now. He tugged Emily along as he caught up with me.
I spun around, exasperation bubbling to the surface. “What?”
“And where exactly are you going to start looking?” His question was not mocking; it was steady, logical, a grounding force amidst the chaos.
“I don’t know,” I admitted, frustration breaking my voice. “I’ll just… check the places he used to go. He has to be somewhere.”
His jaw tightened, determination etched in his features. “Then I’ll drive you.”
I shook my head quickly, a wave of defiance washing over me. “No. I’ll be fine. And honestly, I don’t think Dean would be thrilled to see you right now.”
For a moment, Roman was silent, the tension in his shoulders easing as he exhaled slowly. “Fine. But call me. The second you find anything, the moment anything happens, just call me.”
I nodded, grateful for his insistence, even if I struggled to accept it. I slipped back into the house, heading upstairs to change. I needed something comfortable, something that would shield me from the chaos around me. In the bathroom, I splashed cold water on my face, staring at my reflection, willing my racing pulse to calm. The stinging on my wrists served as a harsh reminder of just how low Chloe had sunk.
When I finally emerged from my room, Roman was waiting for me, as if he knew I wouldn’t leave without seeing him one last time.
I picked up the fob from the dresser, forcing a small smile to mask my turmoil. “I’m taking this out for a test drive?”
A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, the sharp edges of earlier softening in the warmth of the moment. He stepped closer, closing the distance between us. “I’d love to see that.”
“I’ll save you the second drive.” My voice was quieter now, almost playful despite the heaviness in the air.
He chuckled, the sound low and inviting. Then, without warning, he leaned in, pulling me close, and his mouth found mine. The kiss was grounding, a steady anchor in the midst of the storm swirling around us.
I had been aimlessly driving around New Hope for what felt like an eternity. Thirty minutes? Forty? Perhaps even longer? I found myself retracing the same roads, pulling into the same parking lots, as if the answer to my frantic search would magically reveal itself if I just looked again, one more time.
I passed by the usual haunts-dive bars, cozy diners, and even the cinema, where I scanned the dimly lit corners of the lobby like a detective on a mission. Yet, despite my efforts, I found nothing but shadows.
Dean was gone.
The sense of dread coiled tightly around my stomach, a relentless grip that refused to loosen. He was in pain, and even though his recent behavior had been nothing short of cruel, I couldn’t shake the feeling of concern. My heart ached for him, despite the anger that simmered beneath the surface. I couldn’t forget how his world had once revolved around Chloe, how deeply he had loved her, and how that love still lingered in the corners of his heart, even now.
And she had thrown that love away without a second thought.
As I turned onto another street, the sunlight glinted off the hood of my yellow car, blinding me momentarily. I winced and pulled over in front of a flower shop, taking a deep breath as if I could inhale clarity along with the fresh air. Maybe I was being foolish for pursuing him. Perhaps I should have let him fade away, let Chloe face the consequences of her betrayal. But the image of Dean’s shattered expression from the night before haunted me, a vivid reminder of his despair.
If only Chloe hadn’t been so reckless, so careless, Dean wouldn’t be out there, lost and broken. We wouldn’t be caught in this chaotic mess. I should be at home right now, wrapped up in a different kind of warmth with Roman, either beneath him or above him, feeling safe and cared for.
But here I was, with Dean missing, his family in a panic since the night before, and the wedding looming just twenty-four hours away. Somehow, it had become my responsibility to fix everything.
With a determined shove, I flung open the car door and stepped into the flower shop. The bell above the entrance jingled, a delicate sound that felt almost mocking in its cheerfulness. My gaze swept the shop, searching for familiar faces, but my shoulders slumped in disappointment when I found none. Just a couple lost in their own world, cooing over a bouquet of roses so large it could easily engulf a person.
I retreated outside and sank onto the wooden bench in front of the shop, the sun-soaked surface burning against my thighs. I pressed my palms into my knees, squinting against the harsh light reflecting off my vibrant car.
Damn it. That stung.
Where on earth was he?
The thought of Chloe’s smug expression flashed through my mind, twisting my insides with anger. This was all her fault. Every bit of it. If I didn’t somehow summon Dean back from whatever abyss he had fallen into, tomorrow would be a disaster waiting to happen.
As I contemplated the impending chaos, a sudden burst of confetti erupted from the flower shop, jolting me from my gloomy reverie. I turned my head just in time to witness a man kneeling before a girl, a black velvet box open in front of her, her hand clasped over her mouth in shock.
My lips involuntarily curved into a smile. She nodded, and he gently slid the ring onto her finger before they shared a sweet kiss.
But as the scene unfolded, I felt a pang of jealousy. I turned away, suddenly feeling like an unwelcome spectator, a pathetic outsider grinning at the joy of others while my own happiness lay in ruins. With a heavy sigh, I stood up, brushing away imaginary dust from my thighs. It was time to go home, time to accept the painful truth: I had failed.
The wedding was off.
And somewhere deep inside, a mischievous part of me felt a flicker of satisfaction knowing that Chloe would be facing humiliation and misery tomorrow.
The groom had vanished, and no amount of my frantic efforts would change that reality.
I cast one last glance at the blissful couple inside before stepping forward, only to collide directly into someone’s chest.
“Oh! I’m so sorry!” I exclaimed, stumbling back.
“No, no, it’s fine,” the man replied, his voice warm and forgiving.
He looked to be in his mid-twenties, with slightly tousled hair and eyes still sparkling from the proposal he had just witnessed.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.