Someone might have reached out of my closet and slapped me across the face for how shocked I am in that moment.

“What?”

“Hunter told me that Lincoln arranged it so there’s no cost for any of it. Which means we get an open bar!”

Leave it to my cousin to be more worried about an open bar than the important point at hand.

“For free? Everything?”

“Hunter was pissed when he thought Lincoln was going to run you out of town, and Lincoln promised to fix it. Ergo, free wedding. Did I get that right? I’ve always wanted to say ergo.”

Again, leave it to Cricket to get off topic.

“Why didn’t Lincoln tell me any of this?”

“I don’t know. You were probably too busy arguing or avoiding each other. Either way, I don’t care because he can’t take it back now, and Hunter’s mom is off my back about them picking up the tab for the whole wedding and making me feel like I’m broke as a joke. Which I still am, but at least she can’t shove it in my face as much anymore.”

I stand in front of the closet in silence while I try to make sense of all this. How I should feel about the fact that Lincoln is effectively absorbing the cost of my cousin’s wedding.

“Whit? You there?”

Her whistle yanks me back to the conversation at hand.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m just . . . processing.”

“I was surprised too, but I’m not letting him take it back. Which means you better wear something sexy that says you’re going to put out tonight and won’t look skanky in the morning when you have to put it back on again. Because if I had to guess, there’s a one hundred percent chance of you getting laid in the forecast.”

Cricket has no idea that Lincoln and I have already been down that road again, and with the connecting door, there’s no need for concern about the walk of shame. That is, if he’s still staying in that room tonight. He could always stay in mine . . . Part of me likes the idea of not being the one to sneak out in the morning.

“Okay, gonna lose you. See you at six. That’s when he told us to be at the bar on your floor. You better not be late!”

Her phone cuts out, and she’s gone.

Six at the bar? We’re having dinner up here?

I think of Lincoln’s promise that we wouldn’t have to worry about the press, and I suppose that makes sense. He’s going to close off the floor, and we’ll have it all to ourselves.

But that’s all way less important than the fact that he’s paying for my cousin’s wedding. Yes, Hunter is his best friend, but Lincoln wasn’t paying for their wedding before I came back into the picture. What the hell does that mean?

I toss my phone on the bed and go back to staring at the closet. I don’t know what to think about anything when it comes to Lincoln, so I try to worry about the one thing I can control—what I wear.