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This alone triggers my internal warnings. I shift my weight, waiting.

“You’re in danger, Boss,” he says finally.

“Explain fast or die young.” I’m already annoyed.

“All right. Fine.” He exhales and starts to ramble. “You know how in rom-com movies where young lovers are torn apart by an unavoidable circumstance but agree to find each other and get married if they haven’t found the perfect partner by the age thirty?”

“No.” I shake my head at the ludicrous story.

“Bro, if you would accept my invitation to rom-com movie sleepover nights, I wouldn’t have to explain this.” Frustrated, he rises to meet me.

“If you would put as much effort into work as planning sleepov⁠—”

“Shh.” Matt pinches my lips shut, halting my words.

My gaze darts to his fingers and then to his face as a deep trench burrows between my brows. If cartoons were real, little gray steam clouds would shoot from my ears. I try to smack his hand away, but somehow the dickwad Mr. Miyagi’s me with a quick swiping block of his hand.

He shakes his head. “You’re not hearing me, dude. Your lady has a marriage pact with Bad-Boy Adam.” He releases my lips.

The pressure of hearing those words threatens to make my head explode. I stare at the wall, trying to understand in what world this makes sense. When I arrive at no reasonable answer, I rub my forehead and pace.

“That’s ridiculous. Who told you that?” I ask, my arms swinging.

“Sophia and I have a special bond.” He folds his hands over his heart. “We’re, like, soul-siblings. She shared how she and Adam met and dated one summer while she was here with Amelia’s family, and the rest is history.”

Because I’ve had enough of his bullshit, I try to take him into a headlock to unleash the mother of head-noogies but he’s a slippery little bastard. He doggie-paddles my face with lightning speed while darting from one foot to the other, then spins out of reach.

“Less fighting with Sophia and more talking, you unromantic sloth.” Matt points at me from across the room. He tries to flatten his hair, but it still looks like he was electrocuted.

“I did talk to Sophia,” I say in my own defense, still a little out of breath from our brawl. “Many times. She conveniently left out that part,” I angry-whisper and point at the floor.

But my anger is too late. The image of her and Adam before an altar is planted in my mind. It’s growing like an invasive species and crawling through my body. It was bad enough seeing her in social media posts with Roman, now this?

Over my dead body.

“Motherfucker!” I cup my hands over my face, finally understanding what I’m up against. Though this marriage-pact idea is ridiculous, it’s exactly the kind of thing Sophia would hold on to. Roman broke her heart, so now she’s searching for the person who promised her more.

And honestly, this is typical Adam bullshit. The reason I know is because there’s another woman who got a similar promise.

Except he broke her heart, just like he’ll break Sophia’s.

22/

sophia

Motorboating Mozzarella Balls

“This is it?” Amelia raises her sunglasses and peers at the gate. It’s large and unwelcoming, just like the compound it protects.

“Seems to be.” I cross-check the address Tina sent against the house number displayed on the exterior walls. When I check my phone’s map app, I note we’re close to the waterfall we circled the other day. For my own safety, I decide not to share this information with Amelia.

We park the Jeep on a secluded road. Amelia points out a call box near the driveway. A small sign above it reads:

No Solicitations. Private Property.

My fingertip hovers over a call button.

“What are you waiting for?” Amelia nudges my side.