"Because asking once was never going to be enough."
The mock wedding was over. The lanterns dimmed. The silk runners had been rolled up, and Harold was happily humming while Mei organized gift bags for an event that technically didn't happen.
But in their hotel suite, everything was quiet.
Too quiet.
Ava toed off her heels and flopped onto the bed with the dramatic sigh of someone emotionally exhausted and mildly betrayed by cherry blossoms. She stared at the ceiling, then at the tiny paper fan labeled "Bride-to-Be" still sticking out of her clutch.
Ryan emerged from the bathroom with a towel slung low around his waist and a toothbrush still in his mouth.
She narrowed her eyes. "You look suspiciously calm for someone who just survived an ambush wedding."
He grinned around the toothbrush and shrugged.
"You knew," she accused, sitting up. "You knew Mei was planning something."
