Hearing her voice, he barreled past me, ramming the brass doorknob into my hip. I swore under my breath.

“Olivia, I have to talk to you.”

She froze. Her sunny party expression vanished.

“Olivia, dear, you shouldn’t abandon your guests,” Mrs. Blocken’s voice preceded her into the entry. “We weren’t—” She stopped suddenly seeing Mark, whose gaze never left her daughter’s face. “What’s he doing here?” Mrs. Blocken’s demand was laced with disgust. “Is this your idea of a joke, India?”

“I—”

The remaining party members materialized behind Mrs. Blocken.

“Olivia.” Mark said her name like a prayer. “I have to speak with you. Please.”

“Get him out of here this instant, India,” Mrs. Blocken ordered. “I’m holding you responsible for this. I didn’t want your family to have anything to do with the wedding, but Olivia insisted that you take part. I see now that my earlier judgment was correct.”

My face burned. I grabbed my brother’s arm more roughly than necessary and shoved him toward the door.

Bobby mumbled a hasty good-bye to Bree. As I was pushing my brother out the door, he grabbed the frame. “Mark,” I hissed.

He clung tight. “I really need to talk to you. I’ll be in my office at Martin all day tomorrow. Meet me, please!” He called over his shoulder.

I pried Mark’s right hand from the jam, and Bobby worked on his left. When Mark let go, I pushed him outside, Bobby on my heels. The door slammed behind us, and we heard the bolt slide home.

On the front lawn, Mark shook out of my grasp. “Let go.”

Hoping the Blockens wouldn’t overhear, I demanded, “What are you doing here?”

“I had to speak to her. She’s making a mistake,” he said, obviously unconcerned with eavesdropping.

His face was the color of the inside of a watermelon, and his thin chest heaved up and down so rapidly I thought he would hyperventilate.