“I’m okay, Fancy Pants.”

He sighed, leaning down to press his forehead against hers.

“This wasn’t the plan, you know,” he said. “To drag you thousands of miles from home and then abandon you.”

Maggie chuckled. “You’ll be gone a few hours, right? I promise I won’t break that quickly.”

He loved her for reassuring him, but it was also because he loved her that he could hear the slight waver in her voice, the tiny bit of worry she couldn’t hide, and it made saying good-bye to her all that much harder.

“You’ve got your meds?” he asked, and Maggie stepped back, rolling her eyes.

“I’m a big girl, Griffin. I can take care of myself. Been doing it for years.” She nodded toward Miles. “Plus, you’re not leaving me alone. I’ve got him.”

Griffin groaned. He didn’t mean to sound like a parent leaving a child home alone for the first time. Of course she could take care of herself, but he was on new ground here, not sure how to proceed. Things were supposed to go off without a hitch—a great trip that would buoy his confidence enough to tell Maggie that he applied for a fellowship, won said fellowship, and was expected to move to Washington, D.C., this fall. No big deal.

Shit. Every time he thought about telling her, something got in the way. Or maybe he let things get in the way because, right now, avoiding the inevitable was preferable to the inevitable itself.

He was an idiot.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m an asshole. I know you’ll be fine. I just—I wasn’t expecting to have to leave you, you know?”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“I know,” Maggie said with a sigh. “It’s okay. I love you for worrying about me. I just wish you didn’t have to.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and stood on her toes to kiss him, and he sank into her, his shoulders relaxing as he tried to drink his fill. He might be an idiot, but he wasn’t stupid. He’d never have enough of Maggie, would never grow tired of the wholeness he felt only when he was with her.

D.C. wouldn’t happen without her. It couldn’t.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“Love you, too,” she said.

He heard a throat clear and turned to see Jordan and Noah.

“Uh, sorry,” Noah said. “But if we want to catch the next flight to Athens, we need to go now.”

“I like this,” Jordan said, looking at the two men. “You guys are like partners or something. No, you’re like Athos and Porthos going to save Aramis!”

“Excuse me?” Griffin said.

Noah chuckled. “The Three Musketeers.”

“You two seem different,” Maggie said, pointing back and forth between Griffin and Noah.

“Yeah,” Jordan agreed, crossing her arms. “What happened with you two when Maggie and I—uh—went to the bathroom?”

Griffin maintained his poker face and shrugged. “Already told ya. We got stuck behind the drink cart.”

Noah nodded slowly. “What he said.”

“Well,” Jordan continued, “whatever’s going on with you two, it’s really sweet what you’re doing, saving the groom and all.”

“Guess we’re off to book a flight,” Griffin said. “Athens is only an hour away. We can get there for a hundred bucks each and hopefully get Duncan on the next flight out.”

“Elaina is only about twenty minutes from here. The three of us will hop in a taxi and help her salvage the rest of the day,” Jordan told them.

“And we’ll be back in time for the rehearsal dinner,” Noah said.

“Did you say Elaina lived by her family’s restaurant?” Miles asked, and Jordan nodded.

“Apartment right above it, why?”

“Just curious,” he added.

“I feel like we need to do an official huddle or something,” Maggie said.

And just like that, they all thrust a hand into the center of the circle in which they already stood.

“Operation Save the Groom is on, starting…now!” Griffin said, and each one of them threw their hand in the air.

“You know what they say about the best-laid plans?” Miles asked before the group dispersed.

“What’s that?” Jordan asked.

He shook his head. “Fuck the planning, because it always comes back to bite you in the ass.”

Maggie giggled. “And you thought you weren’t part of the drama, Miles.”

Griffin expelled a sigh of relief. Maggie would be fine. They’d all be fine.

He watched as Miles and Maggie helped Jordan grab Griffin’s and Noah’s checked bags to take with them to Elaina’s, and he and Noah were off, headed toward the ticketing counter while the others made their way outside.

No more excuses. Griffin didn’t want anything coming back to bite him in the ass, so he made himself a promise to come clean with Maggie tonight.

Chapter Ten

Duncan

Airport Security Officer Kostas left the room to fetch a coffee for each of his alleged transgressors. He may have been shite in the crime-solving department, but at least he had the decency to offer Duncan and the arsehole refreshments.

Duncan splayed his hands on the table in front of him and stared hard at the real culprit across from him.

“It’s mine, ya right bawbag. You ken it is. Just give it to me, and let me get to my wedding.”

The guy he’d spent the flight from Scotland to Athens with finally spoke.

“I was just protecting myself, aye. You’d have done the same if someone chased you through an airport.”

Duncan growled. The bloke was Scottish as well, and Duncan hated him even more because of it. He could have been kin. Shite, what if he was? His mum could have invited a cousin or two he didn’t know.

He shook the thought away. “I was protecting what belongs to me.”

Duncan’s cheek throbbed. His head ached. For fuck’s sake, he was not the kind of bloke who got into a fight unless he was too piss-drunk to realize it, and that only happened once. Okay, twice if you count the time he and his cousin Ewan were so drunk they decided to box for sport and Duncan cracked a knuckle on Ewan’s jaw. But shite, who gets clotheslined in an airport on the way to his own wedding?

Duncan did, and Elaina would never forgive him for it. His only hope of righting the situation was getting his damned bag back. Then she’d understand.

“Maybe it is yours,” the arse said. “But maybe I thought it was mine, and got scared, and—” The guy paused. “Where’s my legal aide? I shouldn’t be talking any more without an aide.”

“Just shut it,” Duncan said through gritted teeth, and the man leaned back in his chair, looking patient as could be. Now that he had shut up, though, the silence roared in the tiny room, or maybe that was just Duncan’s pulse.

Kostas walked back in with two small Styrofoam cups and handed one to each of the men at the table.

“Wha’ about the bolt cutter? Better yet, can I take my bag and go now?” Duncan asked, just to annoy the kid whose answer was already clear.

“I’m sorry, Mr. McAllister,” he said in accented English. “I saw you assail this man and he defend himself. While your version of the story makes sense as well, I know what I saw. So until we can open the bag, I have to detain you both. I’m just waiting on my manager to find something we can use to cut the lock. Or we could just cut open the bag.”

“No!” Duncan yelled. “Christ. I asked you to cut off the bloody lock, not ruin the bag and most likely what’s inside it.” He rolled his eyes. This wanker thought he was playing out an episode of Law & Order. And as much as he’d kept his gift for Elaina safe, he hadn’t thought to put it in a box. The only thing separating the gift from a pair of scissors was the tissue it was wrapped in, and at this point, he wasn’t sure where in the bag the gift was.

Duncan wondered if the other two people in the room could hear the silent screams of rage inside his head.