“Um, okay . . .” she said, looking around us and clearly confused by my laser-focus attention.

“How was your flight?” I asked.

Her posture relaxed and she smiled, attempting to look over my shoulder to where Will was sitting, probably chin-deep in cougars if my guess was correct. I shifted to block her view.

“It was—” she started.

“Good, good,” I said, realizing too late that I hadn’t let her answer. “Look, I wanted to mention something to you,” I said. Play it off as casual. Play it off as no big deal. Be cool.

Her lips curled up in an amused smile. “Okay?”

“You know what a horrible prankster Will can be.” She nodded and I continued: “I may have just done something to get back at him and I swear,” I said, resting a hand on her shoulder, “I swear, Hanna, you’ll think it’s hilarious . . . eventually.”

“‘Eventually’?”

“Absolutely. Eventually.”

She considered me through narrowed eyes. “This is just a prank, right? No shaved heads or scars?”

I pulled back to study her. “That was a very specific question. Scars?” I shook my head, clearing it. “And no, no, no, no. Just a silly little prank.” I gave Hanna my best smile, the one Chloe said made panties drop. But apparently it only made Hanna more suspicious.

Her eyes narrowed further. “What would I need to do?”

“Nothing,” I said. “You’ll probably see some weird stuff but just . . . go along with it.”

“So, basically be oblivious.”

“Exactly,” I said.

“And this will be funny?”

“Hilarious.”

She thought about it for a full ten seconds before reaching out to shake my hand. “You’re on.”

Hotel Del Coronado was built in 1888, and stretched across the fine-sand beaches of Coronado Island. With its striking red turrets and blindingly white buildings, visiting here felt a lot like being dropped in the middle of a Victorian postcard. Chloe and I had stayed a few months ago while scouting out possible wedding sites. One glance at the ocean from the balcony of our hotel room and Chloe was sold; this was where we would get married.

As we drove back from dinner that night, my nerves prickled to the surface again, but for an entirely new reason. Chloe was smart—smarter than I was, if I was being honest with myself—and she’d watched me carefully all night, studying. Now, as we neared the hotel, she might have been sitting quietly in the passenger seat at my side, but there was no way she was merely taking in the passing scenery. If I knew her as well as I thought I did, she was planning, silently plotting how to take me down.

Which was why I had a plan myself.

We made the last turn and arrived back at the Del. The crisp white buildings were lit from every angle and practically glowed against the dark sky. I patted the small bottle in my pocket and looked down at my watch, realizing this was either the smartest thing I’d ever done or the stupidest. We’d find out soon enough.