Even then, when I was pretending to hate him, I never could. I was terrified of what he might be able to do to my heart, but even that couldn’t stop me from falling in love with him again. I have no defenses when it comes to Lincoln.

When we reach the VIP level, my gaze locks on the table where I last saw Sylvia Riscoff. She was having breakfast with Maren Higgins when Lincoln and I emerged from my room to take a helicopter to Blue House.

Wait a goddamned second . . . Why has no one asked Maren what the hell happened?

Or have they?

If Sylvia wasn’t using, could someone have drugged her? Maren was right there. She had the opportunity. I don’t know about means or motive, but maybe we’re not looking at all the possibilities.

Part of me wants to run back downstairs to tell Lincoln, but I know I need to see my cousin right now.

“Ma’am, would you like a drink?” the bellhop asks me as I stand stock-still at the bar. “I can have anything you’d like brought to the suite.”

His question snaps me out of my thoughts. “No. That’s fine. I’m sorry. Just absentminded today.”

I follow him to Aunt Jackie’s room, and he knocks on the door. “Ms. Gable? Ms. Gable has arrived.”

The door swings open, and Cricket’s bright smile greets me, quieting my overactive brain. Maren can wait. This weekend is about my cousin and her happiness.

“You’re here! Now the party can start!” Cricket throws her arms around me and drags me into the room. “I’ve missed you so much, even though it’s only been a few days. How is it being locked in at the estate? I’ve been meaning to ask if you found any cool secret hidden rooms or moving bookshelves?”

Of course Cricket will always be the one to make me laugh, and I’m here to return the favor. I want to see nothing but smiles on her face tonight and tomorrow.

“No secret rooms or passageways, but I’m still looking.”

“Snooping around the mansion. That sounds smart, Whit,” Karma says, and I look over Cricket’s shoulder to see her on the couch, braiding Addy’s hair.

“Ignore her. I have champagne.”

“Which you’ve had plenty of already,” Aunt Jackie says, lifting the bottle out of the ice before Cricket can grab it.

“It’s my wedding, and if I want to show up a tiny bit tipsy for the festivities tonight, there shouldn’t be a law against that.”

“Maybe your mom’s right,” I say. “Hold off now and have your drinks at dinner.”

Cricket sighs. “Fine. But I still think it’s absolutely ridiculous that I have to stay here tonight and I can’t go home with Hunt. It’s not like not sleeping in the same bed for one night is going to change a damn thing about the wedding.”

“It’s tradition,” Jackie says.

“You never got married, Mom. I feel like your opinion doesn’t count.”