lia

y mom enveloped me in a hug the moment I walked through the d

meet her worried eyes. "I stayed at

my cheek. "You look exhausted. Go g

still there, small, ugly reminders. I scrubbed my face with cold water, ag

tension in my shoulders. But the phantom weight of the ring on my fin

I had zero memory of a wedding. Was that piece of paper even legally

off. I shoved it and the certificate into the deepest, darkest corner o

oses at the shop, arranged bouquets for smiling customer

is face plastered across the city. The Mustangs' season was

TV, emerging from a black car, his face a cold, unreadable mask. For a fleeting moment,

my shop. The scent of roses and sunshine was ins

he lead man asked, his e

n my stomach, but I kept my

to see you." He gestured towards the door. A p

y to him," I said, ke

r. Sinclair anticipated you might say that.

first page made the blood drain fr

ife, let alone signed it. The contract stated that as Garrick Sinclair's legal spouse, I was bound

ef. I flipped to the last page and saw the signatures.

pposed signature. It was dated a w

g, but hard and resolute. "I never signed this. I wasn't

ature as yours, Miss Dalton," the man said, his

breath, stee

coldly. "Give

rfectly calm, cheerful tone. "Hey, Mom. Listen, a last-minute floral convention just came

agged into this mess. Then, I grabbed my coat and walk

round garage. A silent elevator whisked us upwards, opening directly into a vas

hockey puck from hand to hand. He looked up

, gesturing to the

g to cower. "What is this? D

celia Dalton, twenty-four, florist, mother a retired teacher. Do you really think you're wor

vestigated me. He knew my small, insignif

held my ground for a second before his sheer size forced me to take a step back, my sp

nches from mine. "I don't know what deal you made with my father," he murmured, his

rcing me to meet his gaze. "But until I f

is eyes beyond the anger. A flicker of t

"Give me your best friend's contact information. I nee