Mr. Denver: The Version You Didn't Hear

Chapter 23

I stared at my phone. One minute ago, I was sipping coffee with Brad and brushing off his teasing about me “falling in love.” Now? Now I was burning from the inside out.

“Who's this and where is Catherine?” The voice on the other end was too casual.

“Oh… she’s drunk.”

My grip tightened around the phone. “What?!”

“She’s drunk.” My pulse pounded like a war drum.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Who are you?”

“I’m her fiancé, you bastard. Who are you?” A pause, then came the poison.

“I’m her fiancé too… Eden.” I didn’t remember slamming my fist into the desk, but the sting in my knuckles said I had. I hung up. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe.

Catherine. Drunk. In LA. With Eden.

I moved fast. Grabbed my jacket. Stormed to the door.

“Where are you going?” Brad asked.

“LA.”

“This late? Jacob—what the hell?” I ignored him. My mind was already spinning. I called my grandfather’s pilot.

Nothing. I called again. That’s when it hit me: the jet was gone. I called my grandfather’s secretary.

“The jet is on its way to New York,” she said cheerfully. I ended the call before I said something unforgivable. Then I called Brad.

“Brad. I need your jet.”

“You already called your pilot, right?”

“Yeah. Jet’s gone.”

There was a pause on the line.

“Sorry, man,” Brad said, too calm. “My mom took mine to Korea.”

“You liar,” I hissed. “Your mom hates Korea.”

“She hates it because her favorite actor died in that one drama—”

“I don’t care about your mom’s drama. I need that plane!”

“Sorry. Nothing I can do.” Click. He hung up. I stood there in the middle of the hallway, boiling. I had no jet. No commercial flights. No Catherine.

And I knew—I knew—my grandfather was behind this. Brad too. That traitor. I paced like a caged animal, fists clenched.

Catherine.

Was she okay? Was she safe? Was she crying? Laughing? Was she telling Eden she still loved him?

My chest ached like something was trying to rip itself free. This wasn’t pretend anymore. This wasn’t just about the wedding. This was her.

And the thought of losing her made me realize something I hadn’t wanted to admit. Brad was right. I loved her.

God help me—I was in love with Catherine Ashton. And if I couldn’t get to her tonight? Then first thing tomorrow morning, I would. Even if I had to walk to LA myself.