Leaning forward so I would glance over at her, she asked, “Aren’t you excited for this week?”

“Yes, of course. I’m just dreading tonight a little, and wondering how I’ll handle all of the socializing.”

“My guess is ‘badly,’” she said, poking my shoulder.

I exhaled a laugh, giving her a playfully stern glance. “Thanks.”

“Look, just wait until you meet my aunts,” she said, leaning over and kissing where she’d poked me. “It’ll be all the distraction you’ll need.”

Chloe’s dad had traveled from North Dakota with his two very loud and eccentric sisters. They were both recently divorced, and Chloe promised me they had the potential to be the biggest disaster of the week. I wasn’t so sure we should give out that tiara just yet—Chloe had yet to meet my cousin Bull.

“You’ll forget about everything else and all you’ll be able to worry about is what they’ll do to get themselves arrested and how much it will cost you in bail money. Trust me, it’ll be very liberating.” She leaned over and began fiddling with the car stereo, stopping on a pulsing, high-pitched pop song. I slid my eyes over to her, concentrating a lifetime of disgust into the brief glance.

Satisfied that I was sufficiently annoyed, she sat back in her seat. “So what else is bothering you? You’re not getting cold feet on me now, are you?”

I leveled her with a look that was meant to imply Are you insane?

“Okay,” she laughed. “Then talk to me. Tell me what else is on your mind.”

I reached for her hand, twisting her fingers with mine before resting them both on my thigh. “It’s just the looming chaos,” I started with a shrug. “This wedding has turned into such a thing. Do you know I had fourteen texts from my mother waiting for me when we landed? Fourteen. Ranging from where to get coffee in San Diego, to whether Bull could get his back waxed at the hotel—as if I know! You said it yesterday: it’s become its own entity. I can’t believe I’m saying this but I wonder if you had it right when you suggested sneaking off to Vegas.”

She gave me her trademark gloating smile. “I believe I said ‘run.’ Run to Vegas. As in flee.”

“Right.”

“You know, we’re not that far from the airport,” she reminded me, motioning out the window to where we could still see planes landing and taking off. “It’s not too late to escape.”

“Don’t tempt me,” I said, because as much as I suspected we were careening headlong into disaster, I didn’t actually want to leave. San Diego had always been special to us: it was where I stopped being an idiot and finally let myself love her. It was where Chloe finally let me. And Jesus, had it really been over two years? How was that even possible? It felt like only yesterday I was covertly ogling Miss Mills’ ass as we checked into the W. Later, she’d called me by my first name, for the very first time.

We’d been back together one other time, of course, to select the location for this weekend. But that had been such a whirlwind trip, and this one carried a far greater weight. We were here for our wedding. Despite the way she’d crashed the bachelor party, the fact that we’d bought a Manhattan apartment together, or the ring on Chloe’s finger, it was this strange moment of nerves that made it finally sink in. We were getting married. When I left here again, Chloe would be my wife.

Holy shit.

I reached up, ran a shaking hand across my clammy forehead.

“You’re being awfully quiet over there. Can I take your contemplative silence to mean you’re actually considering fleeing?” Chloe asked.

I shook my head. “No way,” I said, tightening my grip on her hand. “We’re here. And there isn’t a chance in hell I’d miss seeing you walk down that aisle. I’ve fought way too f**king hard for you.”

“Knock it off, Bennett. You’re a lot easier to deal with when you’re being a dick.”

“And I put up with way too much of your shit,” I added, grinning when I felt her fist connect with my shoulder. “But I do feel I should warn you one more time. Some members of my family are a bit . . .”

“Nuts? As in, building a vitamin-manufacturing facility in their garage? As in, paying tens of thousands of dollars for advertising in the AARP magazine?”

I blinked over to her. “What? Who did that?”

“Your cousin Bull,” she answered, shrugging. “Henry told me some stories on the phone the other day. Apparently it’s his new venture. He’s going to make a pitch this week for some financial backing from Will and Max.”