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"Right." He nodded solemnly. "And which happy member of the nothing-happened club sent you hiding in the barn?"

I considered lying. Something elaborate. International espionage. A hostile takeover. A rare allergic reaction to wedding festivities.

Unfortunately, my brain was still operating on emergency backup power.

“My best friend, Annie.” Even as I said the words, I was aware of how ridiculous they sounded. Best friend. As if I was a teenager, writing BFFs in Sharpie on my binder.

His expression softened. "What'd she do?"

"Nothing.” I shook my head. “I just didn't know she'd be here."

Damon’s eyes flickered with a glint of something—curiosity, maybe, or skepticism. “You had no idea she was coming?” he asked, like the answer wasn’t already obvious from the way I’d nearly vaporized upon seeing her.

"Nope."

“So, it was a surprise?”

I nodded.

"And, not the fun kind," he surmised.

I sighed. "She's here with my ex."

Damon straightened. "Your ex?"

“Yes,” I confirmed.

"Did you know they were together?"

"No."

"She didn't tell you?"

"We haven't talked in a while. I've been busy."

His eyebrows lifted. I knew that look. People who didn't run billion-dollar companies tended to have opinions about how I spent my time.

"Busy," he repeated.

"Yes. It's this thing where people have responsibilities and jobs."

"Sounds terrible. You should try avoiding it."

"I'll keep that in mind."

He studied me for a beat. "Did your cousin know she was seeing your ex when she invited her?"

"She didn’t invite her. Kenny's a last-minute replacement groomsman. Annie's his plus-one."

"Wait." Damon turned fully toward me. "He's in the wedding?"

"Yep."

"And you're in the wedding."

"Look at you, putting the pieces together."

He let out a low whistle. "Rehearsal dinner's gonna be interesting."