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I sucked in a breath and let it out slow. Pitched.
“Ball!”
The next morning, we filled out the paperwork and signed it, laughing and joking like we didn’t hate every fucking minute of it. And I took that cursed piece of paper, folded it up, and put it in my bag, promising I’d take care of it.
I swear, I had every intention to.
Thing is, I never did.
I stood straight, eyeing Tate, turning the ball around and around in my hand.
I’d almost objected at Cass’s wedding, but Henry beat me to it.
She couldn’t marry Davis, even if the whole thing did end up falling apart.
She was already married.
To me.
And she had no idea.
“You’re out!”
