"Who said anything about fear?" Avery asks. "It's probably just fatigue. I've been working hard at D.O."

Andrew stands and bends down. He slides one arm under her back and another under her knees and lifts her up. He cradles her against his chest and walks toward the stairs. She struggles and kicks, trying to get away from him.

"What are you doing?" she asks. "Put me down."

"I'm taking you upstairs to rest," Andrew says.

"I can walk on my own," she says.

"Honey, stop wiggling, or you'll fall," he says.

She can feel his chest rumble as he speaks, and she stops squirming. He takes the stairs one by one, balancing her weight between his arms.

"Andrew, this is dangerous," she says. "You know you have a bad heart, and you know the doctor told you to avoid lifting anything heavy. Put me down and stop showing off."

She regrets the words as soon as they're out of her mouth. She knows that Andrew hates it when people think he's weak. There's no chance he'll put her down now. He carries her up the stairs and kicks the door to her room open. Very gently, he puts her onto the bed.

He sits down next to her and gazes down at her face. His eyes seem to melt, and the corners of his mouth twitch into a small smile. He lowers his head until his eyes are just inches from hers, and she looks at the mole in the corner of his eye. He leans down and kisses her on the temple.

There's a knock at the door, and three maids enter the room carrying folders, photo albums, and other piles of paper. They put their items on the nightstand, nod politely, and leave the room.

"Well, Mrs. Clifford, this is everything you need to plan your dream wedding," Andrew says. "We have invitations, photos of rings, design schemes, playlists, everything."

Avery props herself up on her elbow and looks at the piles. She glares up at Andrew and struggles to get into a sitting position. His forehead wrinkled with concern, and he helped her lean against some pillows.

"It won't take much of your time," he says. "And I hope you won't find it stressful. I just want this wedding to make you happy."

Avery sighs and grabs a stack of sample wedding invitations. She flips through the pile, but nothing catches her eye. Some designs are too plain and serious, and others are too bright and colorful.

"Call the maids," she says. "I need some glue."

"Glue?" Andrew asks.

"Yes, I want to design my own invitation," she says. "Is that okay with you?"

Andrew beams and says, "Of course. Quick, maids, bring her some glue."

A maid rushes into the room carrying two bottles of craft glue. Avery looks at the bottles, and an idea strikes her.

"This kind isn't sticky enough," she says. "I need something stronger so I can attach crystals to the invitations."

"You heard her," Andrew says.

"This is all we have, sir," the maid says.

"Then buy some more," Andrew says.

The maid rushes away and returns twenty minutes later, carrying a brown paper bag filled with bottles of glue. Avery takes the bag and the wedding invitations and sits at a small metal table on the balcony. Andrew follows her out and leans against the railing.

"Why are you following me?" she asks. "Do you want me to make these invitations or not?"

Andrew winks and says, "Maybe I just want to keep you company."

"Ugh, leave me alone," she says, starting to cut one of the invitations into thin strips. "I'd prefer to have some peace while I work."

"Did you see your ex-husband today?" Andrew asks.

Avery drops the scissors, and they clatter against the metal table. She looks up and sees that Andrew is looking down at her with an intense gaze.

"Why bother asking if you already know?" she says. "Is that why your men follow me? Are they spying on me?"

"I'm only concerned about your safety," Andrew says. "Besides, even if my men didn't follow you, I'd know about what happened at D.O. It was a pretty big deal, after all."

"I don't like being followed," she snaps. "And just so you know, nothing at all happened between Evan and me."

Andrew smiles and says, "How about we make a deal? If you prepare for the wedding, I'll have my men back off a bit."

"Okay," she says.

She squeezes some glue onto a piece of cardboard and fills a dish with Swarovski crystals. She picks up a single crystal with a pair of tweezers and uses a thin paintbrush to dab glue onto the back. Then she presses the crystal onto a plain white invitation card. She wants to make two cartoon figures with crystals, but the work is slow and meticulous.

Andrew yawns and then slouches down onto the floor of the balcony. Avery smiles to herself and continues to work. By 11 PM, Andrew is too bored to stay. He stands with a massive yawn and kisses her on the top of the head.

As soon as he's gone, she jumps to her feet and puts the paper and crystals away. She walks into the room and squeezes glue all over one of the walls. She uses a piece of cardboard to spread the glue into a thin, even layer. Then she washes her hands and goes to bed.

She wakes in the middle of the night. Moonlight pours in through the open window, and the white curtain floats in and out on the sea breeze. Over the steady pounding of the surf, she can hear a high-pitched wailing. It sounds like a woman sobbing.

Her heart pounds in her chest and her skin prickles. She thinks of the ghost in the garage and forces herself to keep her eyes closed. The wind gets stronger, but she can still hear the sobbing sound—it seems to be getting closer. She takes a deep breath in and counts to ten, and then slowly exhales and starts again.

The wind and the horrible wailing mix together, and Avery can feel cold sweat along her scalp. She opens her eyes and fumbles for the bedside lamp. An icy cold hand closes around her wrist, chilling her to the bone. She pulls her arm and strains her eyes, trying to see in the darkroom.

The hand is attached to a pale woman in a floor-length white gown. The woman has long dark hair and even darker eyes—it's the ghost from the garage. The ghost wraps her other hand around Avery's neck and squeezes her windpipe. Avery squirms and struggles, but the ghost's icy grip is surprisingly strong.

Black dots appear in her vision, and the room starts to spin. The ghost's face blurs and doubles above her. Avery musters the last of her strength and kicks her legs up. Her knee slams into the ghost's stomach, and the grip around her neck loosens. She kicks again and then again, and the ghost falls off the right side of the bed and slams into the wall.

There's a knock on the door, and the night maid asks, "Mrs. Clifford, is everything okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Avery calls back. "I just had a bad dream. I'm okay now."

Avery turns on the light and sees a distinctly human figure struggling against the glue-covered wall. The woman wears a white dress, and a long black wig is stuck to the wall above her head. Her own red hair is firmly attached to the wall.

"What are you doing out of bed at this hour, Jessica?" Avery asks. "Don't tell me you were sleepwalking."

"What did you put on this wall?" Jessica wails. "I can't move an inch. Even my skin is stuck to it."

"Seems like the glue is quite good," Avery says. "If I were you, I'd be careful, and it might rip your hair out by the root."

"You bitch," Jessica screams. "Not my hair!"

"You should have thought about that before you decided to play ghost in the middle of the night," Avery says.

She gets out of bed and looks at Jessica. Jessica's shiny red hair is stuck from root to end. There's no way Jessica will be able to get free without shaving her whole head. Jessica tugs at her head, but the pain in her scalp brings tears to her eyes.

Her face is as red as her hair, and she shouts, "No matter what, I'm going to keep you from marrying him."