by Whitley Cox
“I’m going to let everyone at this wedding know exactly what kind of people the bride and groom are. How they got together, when they got together. Who they really are. I want revenge. I want to not only show them up with a spectacularly hot date, have sex in their bed, put itching powder in their sheets—though you nixed that.” She rolled her eyes. “I want to humiliate them. Just like they’ve humiliated me by making me come to this godforsaken wedding. By making me create that centerpiece for them, the guest favors, the chocolate-covered strawberries. All they do is take, take, take.”
She wiped a tear from her eye as she struggled to take back control of the emotions inside her.
“I hate them, Mason. Hate them. They deserve to pay for what they did to me. The constant humiliation and torment. Doneen has been torturing me since we were kids, and then she went and stole my husband. Said I brought cancer into the family, that I was wicked. You heard her last night, rubbing it in that I’m barren. She’s evil.” The words tasted bitter in her mouth. Their immediate heat burned her tongue, and she worked her jaw side to side, swallowing slowly to savor their rough, jagged edges.
The anger was what had fueled her for so long. She couldn’t stop now. Not before the grand finale. Not before the rest of the world learned the truth about Doneen and Brody Hawthorne. Not before she got her revenge.
She’d been staring down at her lap for some time, so when she finally lifted her head to face him, what stared back at her was terrifying.
The man was looking at her like he had no idea who she was but what he did see disgusted him.
“You can’t do that, Lowenna,” he said slowly, shaking his head. “You can’t.”
The hell she couldn’t.
She stood from the bench, wobbling just a touch on her heels before she steadied herself, glaring down at him, the rage inside her redirecting itself, taking new aim. She planted her hands firmly on her hips. “Who the hell are you to tell me what I can and can’t do? You’ve seen what horrible people they are, how they treated me, how they treated you. They deserve to be humiliated. The world deserves to know the truth.”
He stood up to his full height, which was a hell of a lot taller than her. She was forced to crane her neck to glare at him. He was glaring back. His hands shot out, and he bracketed her arms, gripping her biceps tight, and he shook her gently, his eyes beseeching, almost fearful.
“Listen to me,” he said, emphasizing each word. “Listen to me. They are not worth the energy. They are not worth all the time spent thinking and planning this revenge. You are letting your past trip up your future. Trip up your present. You could be putting all of this, them behind you, focusing on the good, on the future, on being happy, and yet you just keep letting the past, letting them win and pull you back into the darkness. If you go up on that stage and humiliate them, it won’t be them who the world, who the guests look at with disdain, it will be you. The bitter little sister who couldn’t move on.”
“Bitter. Little. Sister?” She spat out each word and shook herself free from his grasp, taking a step back. Fury pumped hot through her veins; the feeling of flames licked up her cheeks. “You wouldn’t even be at this wedding if it wasn’t for me. I invited you. And now you think you can tell me what to do? The world deserves to know just who the real wicked sister is.”
“I wouldn’t be here?” He enunciated the words through gritted teeth. Frustration and disdain wrapped up in his tone. “I wouldn’t be here?”
She shook her head stiffly, eyes laser-focused on his face. “No. You wouldn’t.”
“Fuck, you wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me! You wouldn’t fucking be alive. Wouldn’t be here to exact your ultimate revenge. You’re wasting your life, your gift, my gift by being angry and vengeful.” He shook his head and looked away, raking his fingers through his hair. “Such a fucking waste of your life.”
“Excuse me?” She reared back. “What the hell are you talking about?”
He was still shaking his head. A twinge of anger laced his voice. “Who the hell do you think was your mystery benefactor?”
Her body went ice-cold.
No.
She took a step back and then another, her head shaking side to side, eyes struggling to focus, hands trembling.
“No,” she breathed out. “No. I-it can’t … you’re lying.”
“Why would I lie?”
Why would he lie?
But it was also impossible. Wasn’t it? He would have said something sooner if he was telling her the truth. Before the declarations of love, before the sex. Before everything.
“I was at the Sandpiper Pub five years ago when I overheard a couple of the waitresses talking about their co-worker who had cancer and was struggling to pay her medical bills, wasn’t sure she would have enough to freeze her eggs. So I had a cashier’s check drawn up, keeping me anonymous, and my secretary dropped it off. I never thought I’d ever meet you. I just knew that it was the right thing to do. It was after that, that I quit my job and went off to find a greater purpose in life. Your story helped me change mine.”
She sat down on the bench again, her head hurting from the information overload. This just didn’t make any sense. She lifted her eyes to his. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why am I only finding this out now?”
“I wanted to tell you since the moment you told me about the anonymous benefactor, since I put all the pieces together. I just couldn’t find the right time.”
Couldn’t find the right time? How about when he cooked her dinner and she was lying on his bed, playing with his baby? How about before the rehearsal dinner? How about before they had sex?
Their voices had returned to normal, and Lowenna’s heart no longer thundered in her chest. “I … ” She hung her head for a moment before lifting it once again. “Thank you … for saving me … for … ”
Anything else she could have said would have sounded hollow. How do you thank someone for giving you such a large sum of money? Money that not only saved your life but gave you the opportunity to have a family, start a business, start a new life? You just couldn’t. Even though she was furious with him for keeping it a secret, her overwhelming gratitude bulldozed any of her last remaining ire. She couldn’t stay mad at a man who had given her a second chance at life.
His smile was small and grim as he lifted one shoulder in a tight shrug. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you’re alive. I’m glad you were able to freeze your eggs.” Gone was the love from his eyes, the fascination and obsession with which he’d looked at her upstairs. He’d looked at her like she held all the answers to his questions about the future. Now … now he looked at her like she was nothing but a pile of more questions.
Unanswerable questions.
As her stomach twisted into a tight knot, she asked her own question. “So where does this put us?”
“All right, ladies and gents, it’s time we hear from the best man, the maid of honor and anybody else who would like to give a toast to the happy couple. Get ready to hear some embarrassing stories, because as I already told my big bro, nothing is off-limits tonight,” Brady’s voice in the microphone boomed out of the ballroom into the atrium.
“I have to go give my speech,” she whispered, her fingers twisting in the fabric of her dress.
Again, a slight shrug and an expression of sadness. “I don’t think I can be with you if you’re going to give the speech you plan to give,” he said, every word sounding like it was a jagged shard he had to painfully pull from the back of his throat. “I gave up that life a long time ago. I’m not a ruthless, angry person anymore. I’m not out to best somebody else, show them up or get my revenge. I’m a happy person now, content with living my best life for me and my daughter and nobody else. And I want to instill that kind of life into my daughter.”
Her bottom lip dropped open, and a small piece of her heart chipped away from his words.
“Don’t stoop to their level, Lowenna. You’re better than that. You’re better than them.
Be better. Don’t let your demons win. Don’t let them rule your future because they tormented your past.”
The sound of the best man, Brody’s college roommate Chet, giving a horribly sexist speech grated through the hotel. She glanced toward the doors back into the ballroom, her feet growing itchy wanting to move, wanting to get in there.
“I love you, Lowenna, I do. But I’m not sure we’re in the same place in our lives. I’m not sure you’re ready to be happy.” Then he stood up and walked back into the ballroom, leaving her sitting there with tears sliding down her cheeks and her heart breaking in her chest.
21
“Now let’s hear from the bride’s sister,” Brady said, still guffawing from his last stupid joke, his nose and cheeks red from having imbibed one too many vodka Redbulls. Would the man ever grow up? Probably not. Neither of the Hawthorne brothers were particularly mature or smart or kind or—according to Brady’s drunk girlfriend at Lowenna and Brody’s wedding—very good in bed. Though it appeared that Mindy was now an ex-girlfriend, because Brady had shown up with a new piece of arm candy who was shamelessly flirting with a very uninterested-looking Atlas.
As Lowenna made her way toward the stage, she felt the heat of over three hundred pairs of eyes on her. Though she really only felt the sear of one.
He was sitting at their table, with her parents, aunts, uncles and grandparents, watching her climb the stairs, waiting for her to seal their fate.
But she couldn’t back down now. She couldn’t throw it all away.
The world deserved to know the kind of people Brody and Doneen really were. They deserved to know that Brody was a cheating bastard and Doneen was the wicked sister who had slept with her dying sister’s husband.
“Here she is,” Brady said, teetering on his feet as he leaned forward and planted a sloppy drunk kiss to Lowenna’s cheek. “Care to make it a family affair?” he whispered into her ear. “You should come to my hotel room later.”
Her mouth turned down into a frown of disgust, and she pulled away from him. “You have a girlfriend.”
And she had Mason. Emphasis on the past tense. What remained of her broken heart tightened painfully in the hollow of her chest.
Brady shrugged and sipped his drink. “We’re not exclusive.”
God, he was a tool.
Lowenna rolled her eyes and accepted the microphone from him, resisting the urge to push him off the stage. One tiny shove and he’d be over the edge and flat on his ass.
She bit down on the inside of her cheek. Another time. She needed to focus on her mission.
Operation Revenge.
Licking her lips, she took a sip of the champagne she’d snagged from a passing waiter on her way up to the stage. Why the hell did they only fill them halfway? Cheap bastards.
Her eyes scanned the crowd, then they moved to Doneen and Brody. Doneen’s eyes narrowed on her, her cheeks flushing a deep red beneath her perfect bridal makeup. She lifted one eyebrow just enough for Lowenna to see it.
It was a warning.
“Stick to the script,” her sister mouthed, her eyes gray flames of fury.
Lowenna’s nostrils flared and her lip curled up. Fuck Doneen and her script.
This was why that bitch deserved to be taken down a peg. This was why she deserved humiliation.
Lowenna swallowed, took a deep breath and then went for it. “Most of you know me as Doneen’s little sister, but some of you also know me as Brody’s ex-wife.” She shrugged and laughed. “I know, right? Cue the banjos.”
The crowd laughed awkwardly.
Doneen and Brody didn’t.
“But what a lot of you don’t know are the true Brody and Doneen. What they’re really like. Who they really are. How and when they really got together. Well, I’m here to shed a little light. I’m here to offer you the truth about our blushing bride and the handsome groom.”
Doneen’s face turned the color of pea soup, and Brody began to choke on his water.
Her gaze swung to Mason, but all that she found was an empty chair.
His coat was gone.
He was gone.
Her bottom lip wobbled, and she took another sip of her champagne, her palms now sweaty and struggling to maintain a grip on her flute.
She swallowed again. “Brody and Doneen are two of the most … ”
The crowd was absolutely silent. You could hear a pin drop, it was so dead quiet. Liam was leaning forward on his seat, his eyes eager. Atlas appeared bored, and Zak and Aurora were busy whispering and giggling.
“Brody and Doneen first got together … ”
The click of a camera to her left drew her attention. It was Tori. She was just below Lowenna on the stage, her camera pointed directly at her, clicking away.
Tori pulled the camera away from her face and smiled up at Lowenna. “You got this,” she whispered. “Picture everyone in their underwear.”
Oh God.
Her family was in that crowd.
A throat at the head table cleared, and she pivoted her gaze once again back to the bride and groom. They both looked like they were ready to barf.
Lowenna shut her eyes, exhaled a deep breath through her mouth, tightened her grip on the microphone and began. “Sorry about that. The champagne got all bubbly in my head. Let me start over. Brody and Doneen are the perfect match. They are two sides of the same coin, each other’s better half. Both have ambition and passion, are career-driven and determined to reach the top. Never have I ever met two people more meant for each other than Brody and my big sister.” She swallowed again, the lump at the back of her throat a painful knot she struggled to speak over. “Now, their relationship might be a bit unorthodox to some, given that Brody used to be married to me, but I assure you, we’re all good. Not all relationships must end poorly, and I am truly happy that my sister has found her true love.” She lifted her champagne toward Brody and Doneen. “Take care of her, Brody. Treat her like a queen because otherwise, I’ll help her bury the body.”
Laughter drifted through the crowd.
Shrugging, she turned back to the crowd. “After all, what are sisters for?” She raised her glass. “To the happy couple. May their love be everlasting.”
“To the happy couple,” the crowd replied. Glasses clinked and people cheered as Lowenna took the final sip of her champagne, set her flute down and then dutifully made her way over to the head table.
Brody was the first to stand and embrace her. “Thank you,” he murmured as he hugged her stiffly.
She barely touched him and then retreated as quickly as she could, giving him a small, tight smile in return. “No sweat.”
Doneen was next. She leaned her slight frame toward Lowenna and gave her a superficial hug. “You didn’t stick to the script,” she gritted out.
“And you didn’t wait until my husband and I were divorced before you started sleeping with him.”
Doneen gasped and her body went rigid, the bones of her shoulder blades sticking out as her back went ramrod straight. She went to pull away, but Lowenna held her for just a moment longer, just to instill a bit more fear.
After counting to five in her head, she finally pulled away, making sure to plaster on a big, cheesy grin before she faced her sister and then the crowd. She’d even managed to squeeze a tear out for good measure.
Doneen looked like she was going to barf. Lowenna simply smiled wider, turned back to the audience, waved and then took her leave.
She needed to find Mason. She needed to let him know she chose him, she chose them over getting her revenge.
She descended the stairs of the stage and took off in the direction of the doors toward the atrium. Hopefully he had just stepped out for some air because he didn’t want to hear her speech.
Her pace picked up until before she knew it, she was running. She burst through the doors into the atrium, out of breath as she spun around, searching for Mason.
Tears stung her eyes, and the lump in her throat had tripled in size.
“He left,” came a voice behind her.
She spun around to find Atlas leaning against the doorjamb, studying the ice in his glass. She’d hardly spoken a work to the blond, stoic, gray-eyed single dad who seemed to hate every minute of being at the wedding besides the free booze. The man just seemed like a grump.
“What do you mean he left?” she asked, the achy hollow in her chest growing.
Atlas took a sip of his drink and shrugged. “Said he needed to get home to Willow, so he left.”
On Valentine’s Day! On her birthday! He just … bailed?
She struggled to get the words out. “Did he say why?” How could he just leave her without even saying goodbye?
He warned you, remember? And Mason is most definitely a man of his word.
Disappointment crashed into her and her throat grew tight at the same time tears burned the back of her eyes.
Atlas pushed off from the doorjamb and approached her. He was a tall, lean man with broad shoulders, a square jaw and handsome features. The air around him seemed to almost sizzle with a sense of danger … but also immense sadness.
It was so weird that she picked up the sadness part, but she really felt it the closer he came to her.
“That wasn’t the speech you intended to give, was it?” he asked, looking down at her and cocking one eyebrow.
She felt like a child being chastised, the way he was looking at her, and she immediately dropped her gaze to the floor. “No.”
“You had plans to embarrass them.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
“And Mason wasn’t on board.”
She lifted her eyes to his face. “No.”
His mouth dipped into a frown. He shoved one hand into his pocket and rocked back on his heels. “Makes sense why he left then. Guy’s all sunshine, rainbows, unicorns and shit.”
“I need to talk to him.”
Atlas grunted. “Yeah. Lemme know if you want to split a cab or something. I’m fucking done with this place.” Then he drained his drink and took off back into the ballroom, leaving Lowenna standing there alone—as the universe clearly intended her to be.