Chapter Twenty-Five
Every head snapped up.
I blinked. “Ethan’s not with you?”
Lucas shook his head, suddenly pale. “He left the rehearsal dinner right after I told him to grow up. Haven’t seen him since.”
Great.
Wonderful.
Missing bride. Missing best man.
Exactly the kind of headline that ends careers and gets dissected on breakfast television.
Emma let out a strangled sound. “You don’t think they’re together?”
“No,” James said firmly, but his voice shook. “Caroline wouldn’t. And Ethan, he wouldn’t…” His sentence trailed off, hollow.
Cleo suddenly gasped loud, enough for everyone to jump. “Oh! Oh! I, hang on, give me a second—”
She was digging through her phone with the speed and determination of someone trying to defuse a bomb.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Social media,” she muttered, fingers flying. “Carolines tagged in a million things every week. Fans, brands, influencers, someone somewhere must’ve posted something in the last few hours.”
Margaret clutched her chest. “You mean strangers have access to my daughter’s whereabouts?”
Lady Beaumont didn’t even look up. “Margaret, everyone has access to your daughter’s whereabouts. She’s famous.”
Cleo swore under her breath. “Nothing, nothing, nothing, wait. Oh my god. Holly. LOOK.”
She held the screen towards me.
A blurry photo. Posted thirty minutes ago. Tagline: “Spotted?? Pretty sure this is Caroline Harrington at the Sand and Sip!!”
I pinched to zoom.
The image sharpened just enough for my heartbeat to stop hammering: Caroline, sitting on a low stone wall at a seaside lookout. Wind in her hair. Coffee cup in hand. Looking out to the ocean.
Alone.
Safe.
Definitely her.
Emma let out a sob of pure relief, hands flying to her mouth. James sagged onto the nearest bench like his bones had dissolved. He scrubbed a hand over his face, shoulders shaking once with the force of the exhale.
“She’s okay,” he whispered. “She’s okay.”
Noah leaned in, tapping the corner of the photo. “The Sand and Sip café is only fifteen minutes’ drive from here.”
“I’m going,” James said immediately, already on his feet.
Emma wiped her eyes. “I’m coming too.”
Margaret also attempted to rise, “I should come too…”
“No,” the rest of us said in unison.
Lady Beaumont added, “Do sit down, Margaret. You’ve caused quite enough drama for one morning.”
The three of us, James, Emma, and myself, headed for the parking area at a speed just shy of a jog.
Two members of the estate’s security team fell into step nearby, clearly having caught the tail end of the commotion. Their radios crackled loudly as they followed, exchanging a look that said we’re coming whether you like it or not.
James shot them a tight nod. “Stay here,” he instructed, his voice carrying the kind of authority he rarely used but everyone listened to. “If she’s there, she doesn’t need a crowd.”
One of the guards hesitated. “Sir…”
“Stay,” James repeated firmly. “We’ll handle it.”
They backed off instantly, positioning themselves at the edge of the courtyard, ready but out of the way.
And then we kept moving, hearts racing, every step pushing us closer to where Caroline might be.
The air in the SUV felt thick from tension alone. Emma sat in the front texting furiously, probably drafting ten apologies at once. James stared out the window as vineyards blurred by, his knee bouncing nonstop.
“She wasn’t running away,” I said to him gently. “She just needed space.”
James swallowed. “I know. But I… pushed her into having space somewhere else.”
We fell quiet.
As the car climbed the final hill towards the cafe, the ocean finally opened out in front of us, wide, blue, and almost offensively beautiful in that very Margaret River way.
Waves rolled onto the white sand below in endless lines while the salty breeze whipped around us, dragging the smell of sea spray and hot chips up from the café beneath the lookout.
A couple of surfers bobbed out beyond the break, looking far calmer than anyone sitting voluntarily in freezing water should ever look, while tourists wandered past clutching takeaway coffees and squinting into the sun.
The coastal scrub rustled in the wind, gulls cried overhead, and everything felt strangely peaceful considering my stomach was somewhere near my throat.
And there she was.
Sitting exactly where the fan photo had captured her. Hugging her knees and staring out at the water like she was trying to disappear into it.
James’s breath left him in one sharp, broken sound, more confession than exhale.
“Go,” I urged.
He didn’t wait. He was out of the car in one movement, like something in him snapped free.
“Caroline!”
The name tore across the lookout, carried by the wind.
She turned at the sound, eyes swollen, hair wild, cardigan clutched tight, and for a single heartbeat the world narrowed to just the two of them.
Then they ran.
Caroline sprinted towards him, gravel crunching under her shoes, tears streaking her cheeks. James was already moving, long strides eating up the distance, driven by something fierce and raw and completely undeniable.
They crashed together halfway, arms locking around each other, both shaking with the force of it.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, hands framing her face like it was the most precious thing he’d ever touched. “For everything I said. For not listening. For letting you walk out that door feeling alone when you never were. Not for a second.”
She drew a shaky breath. “When I woke everyone was asleep, so I slipped out through the side door. No one saw me. I walked to the main road, and a lovely older couple gave me a lift here.”
Her voice cracked. “I just couldn’t breathe in that house,” she said. “Everyone was making decisions for me. I felt like I was disappearing. And then you looked at me like I’d done something wrong. Like I’d betrayed you.” She wiped at her eyes. “I just… I couldn’t stay.”
“I know,” he said, forehead pressing to hers. “I made everything worse. I should’ve been your safe place. I will be again. If you’ll let me.”
Caroline’s breath shuddered out of her, and then she kissed him.
Not a polite, careful kiss. But one that was all wind and salt and desperation and relief. James kissed her back with the same urgency, pulling her closer, lifting her slightly off her feet as if he couldn’t get her close enough.
The ocean roared below them. The wind tugged at their clothes, their hair, the edges of their resolve.
But they didn’t move, didn’t break.
They just held on to each other like they’d finally found the air they’d both been gasping for.
Caroline pulled back finally, brushing tears from her cheeks.
Her gaze flicked to her best friend, still standing a few steps away with tear-shiny eyes and a guilty, hopeful expression.
“You knew,” she scolded. “About Ethan. This whole time.”
Emma nodded, tears spilling over again. “Yes. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to ruin anything. I didn’t want to make it messier.”
Caroline let out a trembling laugh. Some of the stiffness in her shoulders finally eased.
“I wasn’t angry that you knew,” she explained. “I was angry that I didn’t.”
Emma let out a tiny, broken laugh of relief, and that was all it took. Caroline crossed the space between them and pulled her into a tight, shaking hug. Emma clung back instantly, arms circling her with all the fierce protectiveness of someone who’d been terrified of losing her.
“I’m sorry,” Emma whispered into her hair. “I should have told you. I just wanted to protect you. I’ll never keep anything from you again.”
“I know,” Caroline murmured.
She squeezed her tighter.
“And you’d better bloody not.”
They held on for a long moment, crying and laughing until the worst of the day finally loosened its grip.
Finally when they broke apart, James wrapped an arm around her waist, guiding her towards the car.
As they walked ahead of us, Emma let out a shaky sigh.
“Thank god,” she whispered.
Noah’s text buzzed through on my phone at that moment:
“Any sign?”
I snapped a photo of the reunited couple and sent it back.
“Found her. Alive. Emotional. She wants to come home.”
His reply came instantly:
“Good. Let’s bring her back before Mrs Harrington turns my vineyard into a crime scene.”
I smiled.
Caroline was safe.
For now, the wedding was back on track.
But as we walked towards the car, I couldn’t shake the feeling that only one piece of this puzzle had been solved.
The moment the SUV rolled up the long gravel drive, Noah was already striding towards us, brow furrowed in concentration and relief. He reached the car just as James helped Caroline out, his arm around her in a way that made everything in him look steadier, anchored.
“She’s okay?” Noah asked.
James nodded. “She’s okay.”
Caroline gave a small, apologetic wave. “Sorry for the panic.”
“Don’t apologise,” Noah said gently. “You needed to escape.”
From inside the building, someone shrieked something unintelligible that sounded like my baby, confirming my suspicion.
Noah sighed, then glanced behind us. “Ethan didn’t come back.”
James stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“He left the estate early this morning,” Noah said. “Told one of the groundskeepers he needed to clear his head. He hasn’t been seen since.”
Caroline’s face tightened with fresh discomfort, but James stepped protectively closer, jaw ticking once in irritation, not fear now, but anger.
“Well,” he said evenly, “maybe that’s for the best.”
There was a finality in his tone. A closing of a door. We all felt it.
As Margaret began a full opera-level wail from the foyer, “CAROLINE! MY ANGEL! MY PRECIOUS GIRL!”, James winced almost imperceptibly.
“I’ll be right behind you,” he murmured to Caroline. “Emma will run interference.”
Emma, to her credit, straightened up like a soldier heading into battle. “I’ll handle it,” she said with the grim resolve of someone prepared to lose a limb in combat.
Caroline squeezed my arm before heading inside with Emma, taking her hand, and bracing for impact.
James watched her go, expression relieved and stormy all at once.
Then he turned to Noah.
“Can I talk to you? Just for a minute?”
I drifted a few steps away as the two men moved off, staying within sight but far enough from the house to speak without anyone overhearing.
They’d been friends for years. You could see it in the way Noah’s posture shifted, steadier, more attentive, and the way James seemed like he was about to say something he’d been carrying tightly against his chest.
James cleared his throat once.
“I need to replace Ethan,” he said, voice low.
Noah nodded slowly. “Makes sense.”
James looked him directly in the eye.
“I want you,” he said. “…to stand in his place. As my best man.”
For a moment Noah didn’t move. He blinked, as if he needed to double check he’d heard correctly.
“Me?” he said, stunned. “James… are you sure?”
James gave a short, earnest nod.
“You’ve always been there for me,” he said. “Long before any of this. Through every stupid mistake I’ve made. I want you beside me tomorrow. If you’ll do it.”
Noah’s face changed in a way I didn’t see often, something warm and genuine breaking through the usual reserve.
“Of course I’ll do it,” he said. “I’d be honoured.”
James pulled him into a firm, grateful hug. Noah returned it.
I felt a small, unexpected tug in my chest watching them, something like hope, or pride, or maybe just the relief of things finally going right in a morning full of wrongs.
When they stepped apart, James exhaled shakily.
“Thank you,” he said. “Really.”
Noah clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.”
James nodded and headed towards the house, leaving Noah and me standing outside in the warm, rising sunlight.
He watched him go, thoughtful. “Please tell me tomorrow’s going to be uneventful.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Have you met this family?”