I hope to god that it doesn’t happen.
Forker knocks on my door around eight in the morning and together, we head up to Lowesy’s suite. The girls stayed in one of the other suites last night—Arden included, so that Lowesy and Penny didn’t share a bed the night before the wedding.
Again, Lowesy and his superstitions.
We walk into his suite to an array of food, fresh coffee—and Declan Lowes sitting at the kitchen island, shirtless and white as a ghost.
We both slow, risking a glance at each other. Not good.
“Lowesy,” Forker says, chipper as ever, but there is an edge of worry in his voice.
Caulfield waltzes in from one of the other rooms, coffee in hand. He nods at us. “Give him a second. He just spewed up his dinner.”
My brows hit my hairline. I round the opposite side of the island from Lowesy and Fork takes the barstool beside him, planting a sturdy hand on his shoulder.
Declan doesn’t look up. Not once. Says nothing to us, either.
“Here,” Seth says gently, emerging from the same room that Caulfield just came from. He slides a bottle of water and some anti-nausea tablets in front of Declan. When he still doesn’tmove, Seth bends down to try and get a glimpse of his face. “Dec, man. You’ve got this.”
Lowesy just shakes his head, saying nothing.
I don’t like what this might insinuate. What the hell happened between last night and this morning?
Fork looks terrified. He pats Dec’s shoulder. “What’s going on, buddy?”
Caulfield parks himself beside me, taking a sip of his coffee, his eyes burning into the top of Declan’s head.
He is shirtless and sweating, his breathing deep and ragged. I haveneverseen the guy look so dishevelled in my life. He was fine last night. Life of the party. He chatted and drank and never let Penny get too far. What the hell happened?
EJ exits the bathroom, a flush of the toilet following in his wake. “Mess is clean in there, how about out here?”
‘Eej,” Seth bites out in a warning.
EJ takes one look at Declan and winces. “Still a mess, I see.”
“We’re all here, man,” I tell Lowesy, eyes burning into his head. “Talk to us.”
“I can’t,” he whispers.
I go stiff, shooting a glance at his best man, whose brow furrows with pure and utter concern.
Hecan’t?
Oh, fuck no. This can’t happen. Not now.
My mind whirls to that girl a floor above us, probably having the best morning of her life, and my heart sinks.
“You can’t…what?” Wyatt asks carefully, and I truly think if Declan takes one step away from this wedding, Caulfield will pummel him to the ground.
Declan groans, leaning forward. He clutches his stomach like he’s in pain.
Could this be food poisoning? We all had dinner at the same place, and nobody else is sick. I haven’t heard anything from thegirls, but I assume we’d know by now. It has to be. There is no way it can beanythingbut a physical illness.
Declan finally looks up at us. His eyes are rimmed red.
Shit. He isn’t sick at all. Iwishhe was.
He’s panicking.
