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A buzz interrupts my daydream. From my pocket, I slip out my phone and glance at the screen. “Ugh.” I tip my face to the sky.

“Mama Sinclair still hunting you?” Amelia chuckles.

“I think she found out about the wedding disaster. Although, I guess everyone on the planet knows about it by now.”

I cringe at the thought of Freddie’s viral posts. He’s Roman’s fifteen-year-old son’s best friend, who is shamelessly addicted to becoming internet famous.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled the world witnessed Roman’s beatdown, a million times over, but I’ve purposely avoided social media. I don’t want to relive it.

“I mean, it’s weird your mom didn’t come to your wedding. You know, the whole mom-zilla of the bride thing,” Amelia says, tapping her chin thoughtfully.

“She was busy attending the prince of San Marino’s wedding.” I tug a loose string from my dress. She has priorities, and I know where I land on that list.

“It’s almost like you chose the same week on purpose.” Amelia sends me a knowing glare.

“Funny how that worked out.” I smirk. “Besides, she would have critiqued everything, you know?”

“Her endless knowledge on weddings is her best quality.” Amelia fake-gags.

“You know she doesn’t have any good qualities.”

Except for her mountains of money, which I’ve never counted as a good quality until I tapped into my company credit card to pay for this place.

To offset the fear of her finding out, I focus on the fact that Gio’s probably camped on the couch in the business center, listening to ancient fax machines run all night, while a ninety-six-year-old checks her Yahoo account on a desktop like it’s 1999.

A girl can daydream, right?

“I’ll talk to her eventually.” I sigh.

“I’ll bring the snacks . . . and the weapons, in case you need them.”

“Food and fighting. Your favorite.”

I flash Amelia a sassy expression as I stand. As I adjust my dress, my gaze falls over the fence line. Farther way, a man appears, walking toward the bungalow.

Gio.

“Eeep!” My hands cup my mouth, but it’s too late.

His attention snaps in my direction.

I drop to a crouch and crabwalk back several paces. Except on the last footfall, there’s no decking. My body is airborne and I back-flop onto the pool’s surface with a huge splash. Water fills my ears and rushes up my nose. My ass-mass slips under like a sinking battleship. The U.S.S. Sophia becomes a casualty in our ongoing war.

Amelia lifts me to the blue sky, and I gasp for air as I swipe locks of drenched hair from my face.

“Soph! You okay?” Amelia’s worried words blast near my ear.

Remembering Gio is on his way, I ignore her question, spin to face her, and slap a palm over her mouth.

“Quiet,” I croak.

Her eyes widen with alarm when I hug her close and flip the massive inner tube over our heads. Beneath the inner tube’s vinyl dome and parked near the edge of the pool, I’m praying Gio won’t spot us.

“Wha marr rru mooing?” Amelia mumbles behind my hand.

I press a finger to my ear, signaling for her to listen. Almost like I’ve timed it, branches break, wood creaks, and rocks and leaves shift.

She nods, signaling she hears it too.