I pull her chin back in front of me. "What's wrong? You don't want to go away?"

She opens her mouth, then shuts it. She takes a few deep breaths, then swallows hard.

The bad feeling in the pit of my stomach grows. I quietly ask, "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

She furrows her eyebrows, cautiously inquiring, "I thought you had to stay at your parents' until the New Year?"

"My parents were fine letting me leave for a week. It's a special occasion," I say.

She leers at me.

Dread fills me as I inquire, "Why do I get the feeling that isn't your concern?"

She stays quiet, but it's written all over her face that I'm right. The longer the silence continues, the more disturbed she looks.

"Why don't you tell me what this is really about?" I suggest.

She finally quizzes, "Why did you change your vows?"

My heart pounds harder. I debate about how to answer her, then finally choose the truth. "I don't know. It just came out when I opened my mouth."

She tilts her head. Her eyes turn to blue slits.

"Are you mad at me?" I ask.

"You just opened your mouth, and it came out?"

"Yes."

"You expect me to believe that you, Sebastian Cartwright, Mr. Prepared For Everything, didn't rehearse that?" she accuses.

"I didn't," I claim.

"So it wasn't part of the show?"

Confused, I question, "The show?"

She huffs. "Yeah, Sebastian. The show. You know, the one that you wanted? The big event to fool your family and the entire town?"

All the guilt and frustration I've felt over the last few days slaps me in the face. The closer we got to today, the more I regretted having Georgia sign the prenup. I wish I could have a redo, but there are no do-overs in life. I'm fully aware of that reality. And now we're in this situation. I don't even know where I'm at with her or how to morph this from something contractual to what I want.

Hell, I'm not even sure what it is I want.

"At least answer me," she demands, her cheeks heating with anger.

I quietly confess, "It wasn't for show."

Her bottom lip trembles. "Then tell me what it was about. I deserve an answer."

Tension grows between us. The limo rolls to a stop, and I glance out the window at my private jet. I mutter, "We're here."

The driver gets out of the car and shuts his door.

Georgia states, "I want an answer, Sebastian. If you didn't change your vows for a show, then why did you say those things to me?"

All my feelings for Georgia that I'm still trying to decipher jumble in my mind. I reach for her cheek, but she jerks her head backward.

The door opens, and our driver says, "Time to get in the air."