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Drew blinks, his expression cracking for a split second as a familiar smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He’s taking in my appearance, my messy hair, smeared mascara, glasses askew, and the water bottle I have clutched to my forehead, clearly realizing that trying to have an important conversation with a deeply hungover person is an uphill battle.

“How about you go back to sleep for a little bit and shake off that headache of yours. We have a long day ahead of us with the rehearsal and dinner.” He pushes himself off the bed, making the mattress rise back up.

“Drew.” I reach up, my fingers wrapping around his wrist. He pauses at the sudden touch, his gaze dropping to where my hand meets his skin. His pulse is thudding rapidly under my fingertips. I look up at him, letting all the defensiveness drop from my voice. “I promise. We will talk about it.”

For a second, he just stares at me, his expression unreadable in the faint light of the sunrise. Then, the tension slowly drains from his shoulders. He turns his hand within my grip, giving my fingers a reassuring squeeze before letting go.

“Okay,” he says, his voice quiet. “I’ll hold you to that promise. Go back to sleep, Camille.”

He steps away, heading toward his dresser to hunt down some clothes. I sink back into the pillows, pulling the comforter up over my shoulders. As I close my aching eyes and toss away my glasses, the sound of him moving quietly around the room becomes a strange comfort.

The next time my eyes open, it’s a natural transition from sleep. I sit up cautiously, bracing for the impact, but the pulsing headache from earlier has evaporated. I peek over at the clock on the bedside table, it’s 9:00 AM. Definitely time to get up and ready for the day.

I pull the heavy covers back, climb out of bed, and rifle through my suitcase for a fresh outfit.

I take a long, steamy shower, letting the hot water wash away the last traces of the sweaty club and tequila from my skin. Once I’m out, I quickly get ready, popping in my contacts, and pull on a comfortable matching set of black biker shorts and a sports bra. I grab my phone and the room key from the counter, and take a deep breath before heading out the door to face the rest of the day.

I walk out into the bright morning air of the courtyard, watching the estate staff begin to arrange the seating and arches for the rehearsal ceremony and dinner later tonight. It’s already coming together beautifully, the wedding is going to be stunning tomorrow.

I'm heading toward the dining hall in search of coffee and Drew, when a sweet, familiar voice calls out from behind me.

“Cami?”

I stop walking and slowly turn around, tears welling in my eyes before I even fully process her face.

Standing there is Jen Carson. Drew’s mom.

“Jen!” I gasp.

I sprint across the courtyard and throw myself directly into her arms. She catches me, wrapping me in a tight, comforting embrace that I remember so vividly from high school. I melt against her, while small tears drip down my cheeks.

“I didn't know you were coming!” I say into her shoulder.

“My flight got in early this morning,” she says, gently rubbing my back before she pulls away just enough to hold me at arm’s length to get a proper look at me. A warm, maternal smile lights up her face. “Look at you. You are as beautiful as ever, Cami.”

“I’ve missed you so much,” I say, sniffling, wiping the tears from under my eyes with the back of my hand.

“Oh, honey, I've missed you too,” she whispers, her eyes glassy with her own tears as she tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

“Does Drew know you're here?” I ask.

She lets out a nostalgic chuckle. “I was actually just with him. He was filling me in on the wild week you’ve all had so far,” she says, a cheerful smile lighting up her eyes.

I scratch the back of my neck, feeling a flush of embarrassment as I think about last night at the club. “It sure has been something,” I laugh weakly.

Jen offers me a knowing, gentle smile.

“Well, I better head inside and find him,” I say, gesturing toward the dining hall. “Can we catch up later tonight?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” She grins, squeezing my hand one last time.

I start to turn away, stepping back onto the guided path, when her voice calls out from behind me, stopping me dead in my tracks.

“Hey, Cami?”

I turn my head back to look at her. Jen’s expression has shifted from lighthearted to almost pleading.

“Will you give him a chance to explain?” she asks softly. “It’s been eating at him for years.”