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The first time I found a necklace in my fiancé’s car, it was his mother who called. “Linnea, darling, you’ve misunderstood Griffin. That necklace was mine. I must have left it there.” The second time, I found two movie ticket stubs in his glove compartment. One of his friends messaged our group chat. “Linnea, don’t overthink it. I had Griffin grab those tickets for me.” The third time, the fourth time, and every time after, someone always had an explanation for him. Until the ninth time. I pulled a tube of lipstick from the gap between the seats and held it up. “Whose is this?” Griffin Ricci’s hands froze on the steering wheel. He picked up his phone and made a call. “Who left a lipstick in my car?” he asked, his voice casual. My younger brother, Archer, answered. My best friend, Sabine, was with him. “So that’s where it went. Sabine’s been looking everywhere for it. Linnea, are you starting this again? We settled this at the party. If you’re going to keep doubting him, maybe you two shouldn’t be getting married.” Then Sabine’s voice cut in. “Linnea, Griffin is so good to you. You’ve been going way too far lately.” The call ended. Griffin looked at me, the picture of innocence. “See? Can you stop suspecting me now?” He sighed, his voice laced with disappointment. “This isn’t the first time, Linnea. Or the second. If you do this again, maybe there’s no point in us getting married.” I cut him off with a smile. “Then let’s not. Let’s cancel it.” What Griffin didn’t know was that the lipstick wasn’t Sabine’s. I had bought it myself. Planted it. It was a test to see just how far they would go to cover for him. … “I’ve already canceled the hotel and the church,” I said, my voice even. “You’ll need to notify the guests.” The car screeched to a halt as Griffin slammed on the brakes. “Linnea Sinclair, are you serious? You don’t even believe your own brother and Sabine now?” He turned to face me, his expression darkening. “Maybe you really should see
