Daisy supposed Carol must know the feeling in order to recognize it, but she shrugged. “I’m fine.” Actually, she was pissed-off. She’d lost the love of her life for the second time, which was devastating.

But she’d survived before, and she’d survive now.

So, she sucked it up. She reapplied mascara and then went offsite to visit two of Carol’s important, high-profile clients, which had thankfully taken her the rest of the day.

The next morning, she woke up knowing that she should be excited about Rocco and Tyler’s wedding in a few hours. She lay in bed and tried not to remember how much more fun it was when Diego was in it with her.

And for at least the thousandth time since yesterday, Daisy reminded herself that she was no longer thinking about him.

Except, she was.

A lot.

All the time.

She’d been hasty to run out on him. She knew his past, knew that he had abandonment issues. She could have tried talking to him about things instead of acting like the rash teenager she’d once been.

She showered, dressed, and told herself that the goal for the day was simple: keep herself as busy as possible so she wouldn’t have to look at Diego. Shouldn’t be a problem with the huge wedding they’d decided upon, in a massive ballroom of their favorite San Fran hotel.

Daisy was just about to leave to get herself to the venue—two hours early to make sure things were playing out as they should—when she got a text from Rocco that said: change of plans.

She stared at the message as a new one came in with an address and the following cryptic words: come here instead.

Okaaaaay. She tried calling Rocco, but he didn’t answer. Nor did Tyler. So, she went to the new address. The Lyft let her off in the beach parking lot.

The. Beach. Parking. Lot.

What the actual hell? Since neither groom was answering his phone, she walked to the lookout and stopped at the top of the stairs. Below and off to the right in a natural alcove between the water and the rocks stood a wooden archway lined with flowers. In front of it was a small aisle, delineated with stones.

No chairs.

She could see three men. Rocco, Tyler, and Harris, a dear friend of the grooms’ who’d married several of their friends. The backdrop was the Golden Gate Bridge, gorgeous enough to steal her breath.

Not understanding—what had happened to the big wedding they said they wanted?—she started to go down the stairs when a hand settled on her arm and gently turned her around.

Diego.

He was in a suit, but in no way had it tamed him. He still looked as wild as ever.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Damn heart.

He spoke first. “It’s Rocco and Tyler. It was all a ruse,” he said. “To get us back together.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Daisy. I screwed up. You are the most important thing in my life. You always have been. I just haven’t shown you that. Let me show you now. I get that it’s probably ten years too late, but I have to try.” He gave her a small smile. “I quit my job in San Diego. I’ve got two choices now. I can go to work for Jake, running and managing his fleet, or I sell my boat and buy a bigger one. In New York.”