Twice more I try, but each time, it fails to even ring, her sweet voice asking me to leave a brief message.
Fine. “Josephina Jordan, this is your fiancé. Call me.”
I storm out to my car.
Damn. I was so caught up with shutting down my dad that I didn’t even notice that her car wasn’t parked at the side of the garage.
I slam the car door and then grind the gears getting out of the driveway, but it doesn’t matter. I have to get to JoJo.
There’s only one place I know of that she’d have gone.
I screech to a stop in front of the duplex I used to share with Jake. JoJo’s car isn’t here.
I jump out and jog to Stevie’s half of the house, banging on the door until she opens up.
“Where is she? I have to find her.”
Stevie’s brows knit. “Who? Jo?”
“Yes—Jo. I can’t find her. She met my mother, and—look, did she call you? Text? Contact you in any way?”
Stevie frowns. “No, I haven’t heard from her. What happened?”
“My mother is a bitch, that’s what. I need to find JoJo and fix this.”
“But you didn’t do anything? To hurt her?”
I scrub at the back of my neck. “Only if introducing her to my parents counts. That was a mistake. I should have known better. My mother ruins everything.”
Stevie holds up one finger. “Give me a second. I’ll see if she’ll answer my call.”
She returns a couple of minutes later. “She answered, but all she’d tell me is that she needs to think, so she went to a hotel.”
“Which hotel?”
“I don’t know. She didn’t say.”
I grab my head with both hands, digging my fingers into my scalp.
From between gritted teeth, I say, “Call her and ask.”
Stevie props her hands on her hips. “No. She’s my friend. And I’m not your friend. If she wants time to think, she gets time to think. I’m Team Jo. Always Team Jo.”
“Team Jo?” I throw up my hands. “Well, fuck me. I’m trying to fix this. How can I fix it if I can’t talk to her?”
“Maybe give her some time and she’ll come home on her own.”
Fuck time.
I spend the better part of the evening driving all over town, checking hotel parking lots for her little hatchback.
Then I start on the ones in the town to the east. And then the city that borders ours on the west.
Finally, as I pull through the lot of a low-budget motel, I spot her car.
Thank God.
I try the front desk, but they refuse to tell me anything about anyone who’s checked into their establishment. I even tried to slip the guy a fifty-dollar bill. No go.
Fine. I’ll do it the hard way.
I start at the door in front of her car. No answer.
No luck on the bottom floor.
Second floor.
The first door opens.
A small lady with a cane and knobby knuckles smiles up at me. “Well, hello, handsome. Margie was right. You’re quite the hottie.”
I pull back. “I’m afraid I have the wrong room. Sorry.”
“Oh, you have the right room. You’re the stripper, right?”
I step away from the door. “Not a stripper. Sorry.”
Her eyes light. “Do you want to be a stripper? I’ve got one hundred crispy dollar bills on the table over there. My fingers are old, so you’ll have to pardon me if they accidentally touch the goods when I tuck them in your underpants.”
The world’s gone mad.
“Excuse me.” I move away another couple of steps. “I have to find my fiancée.”
The woman smiles. “Lucky girl. Well, I’m here with my ones if you change your mind.”
I lift a hand. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
She steps into the hall, calling out as I retreat. “I wouldn’t even mind if you don’t dance well.”
Oh, jeez.
Four more rooms, no answer.
When the next door opens, I cringe. No telling who’s waiting behind it.
JoJo tightens a short pink robe, looking at me like she’s bored. She pushes the door, and it almost slams in my face before I get my head out of my ass and shove my foot into the opening.
“Please let me talk to you.”
She sinks to the edge of the bed. “I’m not marrying you.”
A vice grips my chest.
I get on my knees and take her hands in mine. “You said you wouldn’t judge me for anything my mother did or said.”
Her eyes soften, and she leans forward, placing a light kiss on my forehead. “I’m not judging you. I know you aren’t her. And I don’t feel that you think the way she does. But I can’t marry you when your mother feels so strongly about my heritage.”
I reach up and push her hair away from her face. “But I’m not even close to my mother. Hell, I don’t even like her.”