Izzy strode past them carrying a walkie-talkie she had absolutely commandeered from security.
“Lucas,” she said, not even looking at him, “if Caroline was hiding from anything, it would bethat.”
She gestured vaguely at his entire existence.
We left them behind and followed the stone path that led around the back of the house, skirting the guest wing. Noah walked on my left, James on my right, shoulders hunched in on themselves.
For a few moments, none of us spoke. The only sound was the crunch of gravel and the distant hum of staff radios.
“James,” I said gently, “start from last night. Tell me what happened.”
He drew in a tight breath and let it out slowly, his whole posture sagging with the weight of it.
“It started with Ethan,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “That awful speech. It seems he’d… never really gotten over her.”
I blinked. “They dated?”
“It was years ago. Uni stuff. Old history. She told me everything when we first got together.” He shook his head. “But hearing Ethan say it like it was still real… like he’d just been waiting…” His voice faltered.
“I shouldn’t have let it get to me,” he said. “But I did.”
He paced a slow line in front of me, hands on his hips, eyes unfocused.
“I felt blindsided. I went straight to her. Asked if she’d known he still felt that way.” He winced. “She said no. She said she hadn’t even spoken to him one-on-one since our engagement.”
He swallowed hard.
“And instead of believing her, I…” He broke off, jaw clenching. “I asked if there was anything left between them. Anything unresolved. Anything she wasn’t telling me.”
I winced for him.
“She was furious,” he said. “She said she’d been honest with me from the start. That she told me about their Uni relationship precisely so it wouldn’t turn into this.”
He let out a rough exhale.
“And then it all got out of control. We dredged up everything. The guest list. Her mum. My workload. Her stress. My travel. It was like every unspoken worry we’d been holding onto just… erupted.”
His eyes lifted to mine, raw and unguarded.
“She said I wasn’t seeing her. Not really seeing her.” He turned away. “And I told her she was overreacting.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
It was astonishing what some men could overlook when someone was standing right in front of them spelling it out.
He pressed a hand to his face.
“I heard it the moment I said it. I sounded like my father. Patronising. Cold. Exactly what my mum had to put up with before he passed away. Everything I promised myself I’d never be.”
His voice broke a little.
“She walked out. I told myself she just needed space. That she’d go back to her room. That we’d talk in the morning. I didn’t go after her. I didn’t check her room. I just… left.”
He stopped walking. We both did too.
“I should have listened,” he said quietly. “I should have been better. She needed me and I chose my pride instead.”
His usual polished confidence was gone. He looked like a man who had suddenly realised how fragile everything was.
