But there was only so much I could focus on. My phone kept vibrating in the pocket of my robe, and there was a call I really needed to make.

Making my way upstairs again, I’d have thought Amaya would take a hint, but it looked like she followed me as well.

I didn’t have time to get wrapped up in her drama now. Amaya had made it very clear over the last few years that she didn’t give a fuck about me or our friendship. I had far more important things to worry about.

I went into my bathroom and ran the shower. Hopefully, that’ll be loud enough to drown out my conversation.

“What’s going on?” I asked as soon as he picked up, making sure I kept my voice low.

“I’m doing great. Lovely to hear from you too.”

“Cut the bullshit, Mike.”

“Can you meet me today?”

“Today? You’ve got to be kidding me! I’m drowning in wedding prep.”

“Oh, trust me, sweetheart”—I rolled my eyes—“you’re gonna love what I have for you.”

“Can’t you just—?”

“Kaavi?” Amaya called out.

Fuck her. Seriously. If I didn’t have Mike to deal with I would have stormed back into my room and told her to get lost.

I yelled out some bullshit excuse, my mind already a million miles away.

“Listen, I don’t have time for this,” his voice was low too. “Meet me at Cinnamon Grand. Text me when you’re on your way.” The asshole hung up.

It was all I could do to keep my shit together for the rest of the morning. Amaya tagged along, still oblivious that I didn’t really want her there. The fitting with Andre needed to have ended, like, yesterday, but he was taking his sweet time about it and I let him have his way. He was upset enough when he heard I was wearing a Hayley Paige dress for my reception—I actually thought he’d pass out when I told him. I mean, Andre was the best designer in the country, but all that meant in Sri Lanka was that he was a big fish in a pond the size of a puddle. I needed a showstopper dress for my showstopper wedding, no offense to him. But I sucked it up and tried not to look too impatient as he tried to strong-arm me into an elaborately beaded straightjacket.

My phone buzzed again.

Where are you?

It’s not like I was on holiday, Mike.

Andre and his assistant left to find a necklace or something, leaving me with Amaya.

It was my first time truly alone with her in years. Since she just up and vanished, leaving me so worried that I’d gone to the police, checked every hospital in Northern California, and couldn’t eat or sleep for weeks, only to learn after what felt like a lifetime later that she was living in my own house back home. You tell me that’s not the most ridiculously selfish bullshit you’ve heard.