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FORD

T oday should be calm.

Today should be perfect.

Instead, it’s a fucking circus.

I knew letting Gram have any say in the wedding was a mistake.

But Harper wanted her involved.

And I’d do anything to make my wife happy.

Now?

Now, I’m regretting every single decision I’ve ever made.

Because instead of a peaceful morning, I’ve been dealing with one disaster after another.

The officiant, Connor, is panicking over Allie like a lovesick fool because she’s been ignoring him all morning, sipping tea like she’s mourning her life choices.

Meanwhile, Gram is prancing around the dining room carrying a fucking basket, taking bets on how long Harper lasts before dragging me to a closet.

I rub my forehead, a tension headache brewing.

My eyes lift as Cole and Jake cheer as they fight over a bottle.

They’re already halfway to drunk off their asses, popping champagne like it’s a frat party instead of a wedding.

Daltyn shoots me an apologetic look as he chases after them like they’re a bunch of toddlers—fun fact, they are—trying to keep them from getting drunk.

Again.

I glance at my watch.

Where the fuck is Harper?

She went to the restroom with Allie twenty minutes ago.

My eyes snap to the door as Allie walks in.

Alone.

My blood runs cold.

I don’t hesitate. “Allie,” I bark, wiggling my finger in a come here gesture.

She blinks at me, confused. “What?”

“Where’s Harper?”

Her brow furrows. “I was about to ask you that.”

Everything stops.

My stomach drops.

The air freezes.

No.

No, no, no.

She looks thoroughly confused.

“You went to the restroom together,” I say slowly, my voice dangerously calm.

She nods slowly. “Yeah. I was still in the stall when she finished washing her hands. She said, ‘I’m going to join my grumpy husband,’ and then left.” She frowns, realization dawning. “I heard the door close.”

But she never came back.

Fuck!

My stomach drops.

My fucking wife is missing!

Before our goddamn wedding.