The Best Day is my wedding planning business. Imani, in addition to being my best friend, is my second-in-command.

“No. It’s Jada.” She takes a deep breath.

My heart squeezes with worry, my last vestiges of self-pity vanishing. Jada is Imani’s adorable daughter and my favorite five-year-old. “Is she okay?”

“She’s going to be absolutely fine, but she’s in the ER.”

“Oh, no! What happened?”

“This morning, she put on my robe and declared that she was Sisu the dragon from Raya and the Last Dragon. Which, okay, no biggie, right? But then when I was in the shower, she climbed up on the top of the playhouse, and ‘flew.’”

“Nooooooooooo,” I finally let myself say. At the same time, I’m thinking about Imani’s seafoam green fuzzy robe and admiring Jada’s costuming acumen.

“They’re ninety percent sure it’s a broken arm, but we’re waiting to get X-rayed. The thing is, Dan’s on a business trip, and I can’t get away…” Her voice trails off.

There’s only one thing to say. “No, I get it. I totally get it. Of course you can’t. She needs her mom with her.”

Imani sighs. “I know I’ll lose the money, but I have to be here for her.”

“Absolutely.”

I mean it. Of course I mean it. I’m just—

I’m still feeling clobbered by this year’s turn of events, including the world’s fastest divorce. And Imani was going to be my buffer against all the things that are scary about this trip. New experiences, personal challenges, and a big social group.

Also, the trip’s leader, Clark Wilder.

Who is currently standing to the side of the assembled crew, quietly surveying his territory with intense gray eyes. I swallow my impulse to duck, hide, or whip out a concealed nerf gun and fire it. I try to hold my ground—and his gaze—but fuck, it’s hard. The man is a brooding Viking warrior: six-foot-three-ish, with a reddish-brown beard and those I-know-you eyes. In my humble opinion, Clark is the hottest Wilder—and therefore, possibly the hottest man alive.

He also makes me insanely, tongue-swallowingly, nervous.

Shit.

“I’d better go,” I tell Imani. “I need to either bail or get with the program.”

“Go. Go,” she says hastily. “I’m so sorry.”

“Please don’t stress about it,” I say. “These things happen. Give hugs to Jada.”

“I will.”

I hang up and sneak another look at Clark.

Clark Wilder has rendered me speechless since I first met him. Clark’s late wife Emma and I were in a book club together, so I didn’t know Clark super well, but I knew he didn’t like me. He never met my eyes, smiled, or greeted me with anything other than a grunt.