At 1:30, Penelope left to check the flowers and musicians. “Don’t mess up your lipstick while I’m gone,” she teased.

At 1:45, my coordinator Linda called.
“Amy? Tiny hiccup—Maverick’s running just a little late.”

My stomach tightened. “He’s never late.”

“I’m sure it’s just nerves.”

At 2:00, her tone changed.
“We may need a longer delay. He… hasn’t arrived yet. And we still can’t reach him.”

My heart dropped. “Can’t reach him? How? Where’s his dad?”

“They’re looking. I promise we’re doing everything we can.”

I called him. Straight to voicemail.
Texted. Nothing.

“Where’s Penelope?” I asked Emma.
“She left to check the flowers. Twenty minutes ago.”
Emma swallowed. “I… haven’t seen her since.”