Michael's POV
After searching for nearly an hour through the crowded reception, I finally located Allyson on the garden's far edge, standing beside Rebeca.
She balanced a champagne flute in one hand while her other gripped her phone. The screen's glow illuminated her face as she glanced down repeatedly, clearly checking messages.
Yet when Rebeca spoke, Allyson would lift her head with practiced politeness, nodding as if completely absorbed in their conversation.
She was deliberately ignoring my texts.
The realization hit like a punch to the gut. She was avoiding me.
I had to end this. Tonight.
Rebeca touched Allyson's shoulder, whispered something, then drifted away to greet another couple strolling past.
Perfect timing.
I strode across the garden with determined steps, brushing off every attempt at conversation from other guests. Nothing mattered except reaching her.
When I arrived at her side, I leaned close, my breath warm against her ear.
