Page 127 of Your Coffin or Mine
He shrugs. “It’s possible if he had her phone at some point.”
He heads to open one of the bedrooms, I assume. My gaze lands on a bookshelf situated on one wall, filled with all manner of books, along with a photo of her and another woman grinning into the camera.
I pick up the small portrait, grief making my chest tighten at the smile on her beautiful face. I run the tip of my finger over her face, wishing it could somehow allow me to feel her warmth.
Doyle reenters her living room while shaking his head. “Maybe we could ask the neighbors? Or the bellman. He may know something.”
He heads toward a small kitchen, and I place the photo back where I found it, feeling out of place in a space I know she adores. The colors of the room are soft and muted. Several pieces of artwork dot the walls, one a pretty pink flower in bloom, and an oval mirror near a large window with a view of the city street below. The place is tasteful and light, just like her.
If she isn’t here, I will just have to track down where she’s gone. She mentioned her friend Bernadette quite a bit, so it would be safe to say that’s where she is.
“I found something!” he calls out. I move to the kitchen where he’s staring at the fridge, pointing at a calendar. “She has a wedding she’s going to tomorrow.”
He grabs something from the counter and looks down at it before handing it to me. Another photo, this time in a glossy finish with a date and time listed.
A bright bouquet of roses is pictured on the front of the large card.
I flip it over to read, “You are cordially invited to the wedding of Erica Townsend and Randy Martin, soon to be Mr. and Mrs. Martin.”
It’s the wedding she invited me to accompany her to before she left the castle.
A burst of hope floods my chest as I realize I have found her, and she is within reach, only for my optimism to plummet the next moment. What if her text ofI can’t do thiswasn’t a scheme of Frank’s and she really did mean it? I don’t want to be a fool who suddenly turns up only to be coldly rejected.
It doesn’t matter; she is my mate, and I will protect her from afar if I must.
Doyle frowns before pulling his phone from his pocket to check the time.
“At least we now know where she’s going to be and when.” He leans in toward my shoulder and sniffs. His face crinkles as he cringes and plugs his nose. “Good thing that leaves enough time for a bath, and to find you a tux.”
Chapter 39
AUBREY
“I already toldyou I don’t know where he is or what he’s doing, Erica.”
I shift my weight in the satin-covered chair and straighten my yellow dress as I try to get comfortable, while my cousin interrogates me about my vacation at Hotel Castlevania—or that’s what George has now dubbed the place.
“I’m sure he will call though, right? If a man that hot kissed me like that, I would still be at that castle.” My cousin Erica’s voice crawls over me and my eye twitches from the strain of keeping the smile pasted on my lips. “Did you guys not hook up?”
I inwardly sigh and stare down at the patterned hotel carpet, wishing like hell I would have taken my time getting to Erica’s wedding. I was so excited to get out of the house, but now I just want to go back to Burnie’s apartment and binge watch something until I pass out from carb overload. The bridal suite is full of people, and the number of squeals that have erupted over the petal-covered bed in the next room is infinite.
“Let me go get you a drink,” Burnie whispers, patting me on the shoulder before making a hasty escape from my cousin.
Traitor.How dare she leave me alone with her?!
Burnie’s dark blue dress swishes as she walks, and the toes of her converse sneakers peek out every step she takes. To be honest, I was shocked she agreed to wear a dress at all, especially with how much she hates weddings. At least she was excited about doing our hair.
“Say cheese!” Erica suddenly says, pushing her head next to mine as she leans over my shoulder to snap a photo. She bounces away to chat with her bridesmaids.
My eyes collide with Burnie’s as she looks over her shoulder, her red updo moving with her as she gives me a wink and lolls her tongue from her mouth. I smile the first real smile I’ve had since coming here.
“She is just stunning, isn’t she?” I ask Erica’s bridesmaids.
The four of them grin as one and giggle like the ditsy gaggle of geese they are, one pushing a massive white-and-yellow bouquet into Erica’s hand. Erica’s dress is traditional white with a long train, simple and elegant, her hair flowing freely behind her.
“Absolutely beautiful,” they gush, and I smile wider.
“I am so sorry about Chad, Aubrey. I know he cheated on you, but I couldn’t get Randy to pull him off the groomsmen list—they’ve been friends for forever. You understand, right?” Erica says this conspiratorially, as if her voice isn’t loud as hell and she hasn’t just dropped tea to everyone in the bridal party.
