“Come on, you motherfucker, get out of the fucking way,” I practically growl as I jump out of the cab and try to field my way through the crowded streets outside St. Patrick’s Cathedral.

“Yo, buddy!” the cabbie yells through his rolled-down window. “You have to fucking pay.”

I push back over and pull three bills out of my wallet and shove them at him. “Just wait here, okay? I’ll be two minutes.”

His eyebrows fly up to his hairline. “Whatever ya say, buddy.”

Jesus Christ, it’s like this dude is straight out of every movie ever featuring a New York cab driver. But I don’t have the time or the fucking energy to laugh.

I’m on a mission.

I race through the front doors and look around for my friend Charles, one of the priests here at St. Pat’s. I called and told him earlier I needed him for something urgent. A matter of the soul.

Yeah, I’ll probably burn for that one, but right now, there’s only one thing that will save my soul.

Emilia.

And I’m almost out of fucking time.

I pull out my phone to call him and bite out a furious, “Goddammit.”

Someone clears their throat behind me. Fuck. Normally, I might care that I’m swearing in a cathedral, but right now I just don’t have the patience to be bothered.

I spin around. Thank fuck. It’s Charles.

“Come on, man. Let’s go.”

I grab him by the arm and start hauling him toward the door.

“Woah, Evan. What’s gotten into you, man?” He looks genuinely concerned. As he should. I’m a fucking madman at the moment, and anyone who gets in my way will be collateral damage.

I don’t stop walking. “Just come on. I’ll explain on the way to the airport.”

“Airport?”

“Yeah.” That’s all I’m willing to give him until I have him in the cab and know that at least one part of my plan is in place.

The rest? Well, if I were a more religious man, I might say it’d be in God’s hands then. But more likely it’s in the hands of New York City traffic and the fucking TSA.

I almost can’t believe my luck when we get back out and the cabbie is still waiting for us. I halfway figured Louie De Palma himself would have taken off with my money.

Fate just may be on my side.

“Where to?” he asks in his thick Bronx accent.

“JFK. And if you get me there in twenty minutes, there’s a grand in it for you.”

His eyebrows fly up, and he shakes his head, but he doesn’t say he can’t do it. We’ll see just how much money talks.

“Okay, Evan, what’s going on?” Charles says when the taxi lurches forward.

I respond by pulling out my phone and sending him a text.

“There. It’s a link to your boarding pass.”

If Chuck weren’t a man of the cloth, I’m sure he’d be spewing profanity now. “What are you talking about?” he asks instead.

I let out a ragged breath and drag my hand over my face. Fuck, I should have shaved. I probably look as wrecked as I feel. And at this point, who could blame me?

I’ve been a fucking mess since Emilia broke up with me. It’s crazy, really. I mean, who would have thought that the perpetual playboy would meet his match?

But Emilia…what can I say?

She’s perfect. A goddess. She’s, well, everything to me.

And apparently, I’m the jackass that didn’t figure it out until it was almost too late.

I glance at my watch. Still could be if we don’t get to the airport on time.

“Okay, look, Charles. We have tickets to Fiji, and the flight leaves in an hour. My whole fucking life is about to leave on that plane.”

He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. He wouldn’t be wrong. I’m totally fucking crazy for Emilia. Willing to do some crazy shit to win her back, too, it seems.

“Okay, dude, I’m not following.”

We have fifteen minutes to go if Super Cabbie up there comes through for me, so I tell Charles the whole crazy story.

The night we met in the lounge in the Bradford. Our whirlwind romance. All the ups and downs we went through to get to a good place, and even then, we still had our moments.

Things with Emilia have never been easy. They’ve always been off the charts intense, whether we were fucking with wild abandon in a dark alley or proclaiming my love live on the air of a radio station. Nothing we’ve done has been typical.

Or at least it hasn’t felt that way. That’s why I was so fucking shocked when she wanted to call it off because we weren’t following some typical pattern. First comes love, then comes marriage and all that shit.

It didn’t seem like her thing.

Fuck, was I ever fucking wrong as fuck.

When I finish telling Charles the whole thing, he just stares at me, slack-jawed. Like he can’t believe it.

Then he grins. “My, how the mighty have fallen.”

“Fuck you, dude,” I say with a laugh.

But it’s true.

I fucking love her.

And I’ll be damned if I’m going to lose her now.

Which is why when Erin knocked on my door thirty minutes ago, letting me know that Em was leaving the country and she wasn’t sure for how long, I did the only thing I could think of.

I sprang into action.

I formulated a plan there on the spot.

And yeah, it’s fucking crazy.

But not nearly as crazy as I’ll be if I lose the one woman who I don’t want to live without.

For the first time in my life, nothing has been clearer.

I love her. She loves me. And I’m going to make her mine.

“So, um, Evan…I have to ask.” Charles furrows his brow. “What does all this have to do with me?”

I give him a reckless grin. “Isn’t it obvious? You’re going to marry us.”