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Avery gives a soft, sad laugh. “You don’t want to be married to me, Roman.” She lays her hand over mine, a gesture of friendship, not romance.

“Sorry, but no,” I say, giving her a faint grin. “Besides, I think my brother might have something to say about that.”

A flush blooms across her cheeks, and I’m glad, genuinely glad, those two found each other.

“Yeah,” she whispers. “I like you, Roman. As a friend. I’m sorry this all happened.”

“So am I.”

But sorry isn’t enough. Not anymore. It’s time to fix this. Time to find Gabby.

“I need to make it right. I just don’t know how. She’s not answering any of my calls or texts.”

“Let’s get coffee,” Avery says gently. I start to stand, but she stops me with a hand on my arm. “You sit. I’ll get it.”

She disappears toward the counter, and I scan the café again, desperate for any familiar faces, Maeve, or any of the other WAGs, anyone who might have a clue where Gabby went.

Maybe she went back to our place. As I cling to that shred of hope, another, darker thought cuts in.

Yeah. Probably just to clear her stuff out, dude.

My stomach twists into a tight, punishing knot. I think about everything she left behind in New York when she ran away from her wedding. How she went into hiding to escape Cass. God, what if she does it again? What if I hurt her so badly, she disappears this time too, and I lose her for good?

You love her, a voice inside me says. And she loves you too. Cass never had her heart the way you do.

I suck in a deep breath, clinging to that fragile sliver of hope. It’s not over. It can’t be .

Avery returns with two cups and slides one toward me.

I gulp the hot coffee, letting it burn down my throat.

We fall into a quiet conversation, tossing ideas back and forth about how to not just find Gabby, but convince her that I’m a complete fucking idiot…

and that she’s the only woman I ever want to marry.

Eventually, we track down her parents’ number in California.

I call immediately. Straight to voicemail. I curse under my breath, fighting the urge to smash my phone against the table. Just then, Rip strides into the café and drops into the chair next to me.

“Most of the guys have checked out already,” he says, stretching his legs. “Maybe you’ll run into Maeve at the airport.”

It’s a slim chance, but right now, I’ll take anything.

I consider calling Maeve directly, but stop myself.

They’re probably sightseeing before their flight.

Checking the time, Avery and I pack up our things.

Since we’re on the same flight home, we say our goodbyes to Rip, who is moving to Boston this week, and head for the airport.

I scan the gate area like a hawk, my heart thudding in my chest. No Maeve. No familiar faces. No Gabby.

We eventually board, and since the flight is long, I close my eyes and doze off, only to have a nightmare yank me awake, sweating, shaking, scaring the hell out of the poor woman stuck sitting next to me.

I mutter a quick apology, then sit there, wide-eyed, staring at the seat in front of me, counting down the minutes until we land. My thoughts run wild.

Maybe she’s home.

Maybe she’s waiting for me.

Maybe she saw through the mess, the madness, the alcohol-fueled disaster of Vegas, and she knows that none of it meant a damn thing.

Or maybe…

Maybe everything in my gut is right.

And she’s already gone.

Many excruciating hours later, the plane finally touches down.

My body feels like it's still in motion, the restless energy, the gnawing fear, the hope still clinging by a thread. Avery and I share an Uber, the silence between us thick with unspoken thoughts. She’s dropped off first, and as the car pulls up to my place, I’m out before it even fully stops.

I barely register the driver’s “Have a good night” before I’m rushing toward the front door. Everett’s standing by, arms crossed, his smile fading when he sees my panic.

“Everett,” I start, voice tight, heart hammering. “Is Gabby here? Upstairs?”

His brow furrows in confusion. “No, Roman. I haven’t seen her since she climbed into a limo on Saturday. She had a bag with her.”

Fuck.

My stomach plunges, and I mutter a quick “Thanks” before I’m on the elevator, my mind racing.

I don’t know what I’m expecting, but I sure as hell can’t just wait for her to show up.

I need to think. I need to find her. I need to do something.

Call, text, bombard her until she answers.

But then... what does that make me? Just like Cass, chasing after her when I should’ve trusted her from the start.

I reach my floor, my apartment, and shove the door open. Even though I know she’s not here, I still go through the motions. Check the rooms. The familiar spaces. It’s all a game of hope and denial.

The den door is cracked open. I hesitate, standing in front of it like it’s a goddamn boundary I’m not supposed to cross. This room, it’s hers. Her sanctuary. Her safe place. But today I have to go in.

I push the door open and step inside. My breath catches in my throat. The sewing machine I bought for her sits there like a quiet reminder of when she first came home with me. Beside it, piles of clothing, all finished pieces. My chest tightens as I glance over them.

No wedding dresses.

No white fabric, no tulle, no beads, no jewels.

No.

Just Gabby.PureGabby. The woman I fell in love with.

I reach for the nearest piece of fabric, soft, textured, unique, just like her.

My fingers trace the stitches, each line a mark of her dedication.

She hasn’t given up. She hasn’t abandoned her dreams. No.

What I’m holding in my hands is something even more incredible: the pivot.

The turn she made to step into a new reality. Her reality.

Tears well up in my eyes.I hold the jacket up, letting the fabric drape over my arm. This is all Gabby. And as I stare at it, as I see the effort, the love, something shifts inside me. The fog clears. I know what I need to do.

I grab my phone, hands trembling as I hit Maeve’s number. The second she answers, I don’t waste time. “Can you help me?”