by Alina Jacobs
“I just don’t want to be involved with any of it,” I mumbled, feeling heartbroken and sick. “I need some air.”
My mom patted me on the arm. “I’ll take care of it. That billionaire is my retirement plan. I’m not letting you give up that easily. You’ll see. I’ll have Evan crawling back to you.”
47
Evan
Camilla was pregnant. I looked at the ultrasound photo on my phone. My head spun as I drank to numb my thoughts. The salsa music grated inside my skull.
“That bitch.” Another swig of vodka.
I tried to do the math. She was how far along? The last time we’d slept together had been a few months before the wedding, so certainly enough time for me to be the father.
Fuck.
I had thought I had been rid of Camilla, but now I was tied to the cheater for the rest of my life. I poured another drink. This could not be happening. The worst of it was, I had to tell Ivy. She was going to kill me.
A small, hopeful part of me thought, Maybe she’ll be understanding.
Even I knew that was a lot to ask of a woman—to stick around for the drama, for the heartache. But Ivy had said she loved me, that she didn’t want to lose me. Sure, it was right after I gave her a series of mind-blowing orgasms, but Ivy had always said weddings and commitment meant something.
I had to believe it meant something.
I felt like the only way I would survive this was with Ivy. She was the only thing keeping me from walking out into the ocean and drowning. I looked around, needing to see her. I would have to tell her soon, before she found out. I couldn’t find her on the dance floor though.
The servers came by with another bottle and poured me a glass. I nursed it, still searching for Ivy. I had dragged myself up to go look for her when her mother, Tiffanie, returned to the VIP area.
“You seen Ivy?” I asked her.
“Oh, Evan,” she said sympathetically. “I think you need to sit down.”
“Why?”
She shoved me back down onto the leather couch.
“You should have known better than to bring a woman as wonderful and voluptuous as Ivy to a place like Miami. The men here are very macho; they know how to impress a woman, and they appreciate a woman with curves,” Ivy’s mother stated.
“Where is she?”
“I think you mean who is she with?” Tiffanie replied, patting me on the knee. “Now, I don’t like to rat on people, but you need to step up your game if you want to win Ivy.”
“Where is she?” I roared.
Tiffanie winced. “I saw her in a private room with a Cuban millionaire.”
The alcohol swam in my vision, and I saw red. It was like when I found out that Camilla had been cheating on me, except a thousand times worse. The rage consumed me.
“That fucking bitch.”
“Now, now,” Tiffanie said. “Don’t do anything hasty. You can still win her back.”
“You think I want anything to do with your trashy daughter after she’s out here cheating on me?” I snarled at her.
“She’s not trashy!” Tiffanie’s voice warbled.
“She is. She’s just like you,” I snapped. “She’s just like Camilla.”
“She’s better than Camilla!” Tiffanie protested. “You’d be lucky to have Ivy as a wife. That’s why all the men here want her.”
“Well, I don’t,” I snarled, taking out my phone. I could barely read the screen to type. The letters swam in my vision as I texted.
Evan: Did your team terminate the eviction proceeding on Ivy’s condo?
Carl Svensson: Hah! As if Greg was going to do that before we had a firm alternate. But don’t worry, the replacement parcels should be certified tomorrow by the lawyers.
Evan: Forget the alternative properties. You can move ahead with evicting Ivy and demolishing her building.
After any hope of making amends with Ivy was nuked from orbit, I left the club.
I passed Ivy in the hallway. She didn’t even pretend to be happy to see me. She didn’t smile, didn’t wave. She just looked worried.
Good, I thought. I know exactly what you’ve been up to, and you’re going to pay. After what Camilla did to me, I’m never letting another woman humiliate me like that again.
48
Ivy
I saw Evan leaving as I came back inside from getting some air. I didn’t smile at him or act happy to see him. He didn’t say a word to me as he left. His mouth was set.
Good, I thought. That’s what you get for being a manipulative liar. I hope you drown in your own guilt. Lying to me and leading me on like that.
I always had wanted kids, and I could have probably raised someone else’s, but Camilla’s kids? Having to deal with Camilla on a day-in, day-out basis while she tried to sabotage my relationship with Evan? It would have been difficult, if not impossible.
But to know that Evan had looked into my face and lied about the whole situation for days? Unforgivable.
My life was already a disaster. I didn’t need the drama. Evan claimed he loved me, but maybe he was just saying the words. Billionaire’s were sociopaths after all. To Evan, I had been just another conquest.
Evan wasn’t in the penthouse when we returned.
“He already went back to New York City,” Mika said with a yawn, swiping on her phone. “That’s weird. I can’t believe he just left without saying anything.”
I mulled it over on the plane ride back the next morning and then on my way to meet up with my friends to organize the rehearsal dinner.
“Maybe I was too harsh,” I said to Amy as I helped her put out the flowers and decorate the restaurant for the rehearsal dinner.
It was a sports bar in a typical old historic building that looked as if it hadn’t been renovated since the eighties. It had small tables, a bathroom right off the main space, and baseball memorabilia thumbtacked to the crumbling plaster walls. I would never in a million years choose it for the rehearsal dinner of my worst enemy. Not even Imogen deserved this, but Teddy had insisted.
“You weren’t harsh. You barely know the guy,” Amy assured me.
“But it’s not his fault, it’s Camilla’s. I should have at least talked to him about it. That would have been the adult thing to do.”
“And he could have told you about it, considering he’s known for days,” Amy countered. “But money can’t buy class, as we can all see.” She gestured around the restaurant. One of the ancient baseball posters finally gave up the ghost at that moment and clattered to the floor, its Plexiglas frame cracking.
“Was Imogen seriously all right with this?” Grace asked me as she took some test shots from on top of a ladder. “This is a pretty dinky restaurant.”
“Rehearsal dinner is hosted by the groom’s family,” I said with a sigh. “I offered to organize a different venue. But Teddy wouldn’t hear of it.”
“Man, I love this place!” Teddy whooped as he staggered in with his lacrosse buddies, who were still drunk from their postgame celebration. They almost ran into Sophie, who was delivering the requested bright-blue-and-red New York Giants-themed cake. Teddy slapped his hand on the long bar along one side of the restaurant and announced, “A round for everyone here. Even you ladies!” he said, pointing at us.
I winced as Imogen stormed up to him. “We’re trying to have a classy rehearsal dinner.”
“I know,” Teddy said, draining his glass then burping. “That’s why we brought a karaoke machine.”
I left them to squabble and went to set out the smaller gift sacks that were to thank out-of-town guests and members of the wedding party who were attending that evening. Evan arrived as I helped the restaurant workers rearrange the tables.
“Evan,” I called, going over to him. I lifted my arms to hug him, but he turned away from me.
“You have some nerve,” he said, voice tense with… was he angry at me?
“I have some nerve?” I sputtered. “You’re the one who—”
“Yes,�
�� he said, cutting me off. “You’re such a hypocrite and a liar. After everything I’ve done for you, this is how you treat me? You’re just as bad as Camilla.”
I had no idea what he was talking about, and I didn’t care. “You can’t compare me to her. I’ve been there for you, always. For fuck’s sake, I hid you after your wedding!”
“Yes, you found poor alone me and thought, ‘Oh, look, there’s someone I can stick my claws into,’” he spat. “As soon as I met your mother, I should have known you were just as trashy as she was. I’ll pay you for your work here, but after the wedding tomorrow, I never want to see you again. I wish I had never met you.”
“Fuck you, Evan Harrington.”
He turned away from me before I could say anything else. My fists balled as I forced myself not to cry. I went to the nearest table and fussed with the flower arrangements. On the other side of the room, Camilla wrapped her arm around Evan, kissed him on the cheek, and shot me a triumphant look.
“Guess I win,” she said, sauntering over to me, rubbing her still-flat belly. “I don’t know why you even bothered. Evan was just using you for sex. I’m the one he’s in love with. And I’m going to make sure everyone knows you were trying to ruin my marriage. No one will hire your firm ever again.”
I could feel the tears coming, and I turned and fled to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I couldn’t face Evan. The bathroom opened right out into the main restaurant seating area, and I muffled my sobs so that they couldn’t be heard through the door.
Ivy: So fuck Evan…
Grace: Girl, what the hell? Is that man back with Camilla now?
Amy: Let her have him. There are better men out there.
Ivy: I don’t want Camilla to hurt him.
Ivy: He’s not in his right mind.
Elsie: He’s an adult man. He needs to take responsibility for his life-altering decisions.
Elsie: You stick your dick in crazy, expect her to tamper with the condom and tie you to her for the next eighteen years.
Ivy: Camilla’s going to ruin our business.
Sophie: Don’t pay her any mind. She's basically a possum hissing at you for walking past her trash. Best way to handle it is to keep walking and leave her with her pile of precious garbage.
Amy: Let’s go. The rehearsal dinner is set up. We can grab drinks and you can complain about Evan.
I sniffed. I had great friends. I washed my hands then tried to push the door open, but the latch was stuck. It only opened a crack. I heaved my weight against it.
Crash!
Clank!
CLANG!
I looked through the open doorway in horror. All of the rehearsal party guests were dead silent as they surveyed the carnage.
The cake, all of the gift bags, and the table with the bottles of custom-labeled champagne were fizzing together in a sugary slurry on the floor. The karaoke machine that Teddy and his friends had set up was slowly drowning in the liquid. A cord lay across the floor. I looked wildly from it to the electrical outlet next to the bathroom door. The outlet had been partially ripped out of the wall. Those stupid men must have strung the chord in front of the bathroom door!
The cork blew off one of the champagne bottles on the floor. It spun around, spraying me with the sweet alcohol. The lights flickered then went out as a fuse blew. That was when Imogen began screaming.
“You ruined my wedding! You ruined it!” she shrieked, stomping through the soggy cake. “This is a disaster. Get out! You’re fired.”
She picked up a soaking gift bag and threw it at me. “All of you are fired! Fired! Don’t show up for my wedding tomorrow! And forget about being paid.”
I looked to Evan, but his mouth was a thin, hard line.
But it wasn’t my fault! I wanted to protest. But that was not what a wedding planner did. As a wedding planner, it was always your fault.
Amy grabbed my arm and hauled me outside. Grace followed with her camera equipment.
“Oh no,” Sophie said, using a tissue to blot up some of the champagne. “Let’s go grab a drink.”
I shook my head. “I just want to go home. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”
I smelled like a bar as I slopped to my little condo.
“There’s lasagna in the fridge,” I told myself. “We’ll eat it and celebrate that we don’t have to deal with Imogen or Evan ever again.”
But when I stomped up the stairs to my condo, a blond-haired, grey-eyed man in an expensive custom suit was standing in front of the door.
“Ivy Williams,” he said. “My name is Carl Svensson. Svensson Investment now owns this building, and I am here to evict you from this condo.”
49
Evan
Imogen threw a tantrum after Ivy and her friends left. While trying to block out the sounds of her wailing, I fought a nasty battle with myself over my feelings toward Ivy. A part of me felt terrible for being so harsh to Ivy. I just wanted to go comfort her, make her laugh, take her somewhere nice.
She cheated on you.
And that was the thing, wasn’t it? I could not, would not, forgive cheating. Ever.
“I’m glad the trash is finally out,” Camilla said to me, rubbing her stomach slightly.
I wanted to throw up.
“Evan, you have to fix this!” my stepmother said over Imogen’s wailing.
“This is the groom’s side’s event,” I said. “Let them handle it. We have the wedding under control.”
“Actually, we don’t,” Mika said in concern. “Imogen’s changed so much about the wedding that I don’t even know what’s going on. It is going to be an epic disaster. We have no bridesmaids, no caterer, since Imogen fired her, and I have five corgi puppies in my apartment tearing up the place.”
“I thought you needed sixty times that number,” I said tiredly as Imogen’s mother tried to calm her daughter.
Mika slumped down at one of the tables. Someone had fixed the breaker, and the power came back on. We winced at the carnage.
“Don’t worry,” my stepmother assured the irate restaurant manager. “Evan will pay for it.”
“I never should have allowed myself to become involved,” I said, leaning back to rest my head against the wall.
“You and me both,” Mika said.
“No, I mean all of this—getting involved with Camilla, getting involved with Ivy.”
“What’s wrong with Ivy?” Mika asked. “I thought you liked her.”
“I thought I loved her,” I said bitterly.
“What did you do…?” Mika said.
I scowled at Camilla.
“Don’t tell me you’re getting back with her,” Mika admonished.
“No way. But—” I grimaced.
“Oh god,” Mika said in horror. “She’s not pregnant, is she? Please tell me there’s something else—anything else!”
I nodded dumbly.
“We don’t know if it’s yours,” Mika said in a low voice as several restaurant workers with mops started to clean the floor. “You need to demand a paternity test.”
“I can’t deal with that right now. Besides, I checked the legality of it. You can’t demand a test until the child is born. I’m going to have to suffer for the next six months.”
“This is a disaster!” my sister groaned.
“I know. And all the alcohol is on the floor.”
“Great news, everyone! We’re going to Olive Garden!” Teddy announced, standing on a table. “Anyone who wants to keep partying at the rehearsal dinner, let’s go!”
Imogen wailed louder.
“I’m going home,” I said.
“Is the party over already?” my friend Sebastian asked, confused, from the doorway.
“Might as well be,” I said.
“You look rough, dude,” Sebastian commented, “and it’s only six o’clock. Where’s Ivy? I took one of those cookies from her gift bags to my little brother, and all he’s been talking about the past few weeks is that dang cookie. I need to see if the
y can make more.”
“She cheated on me,” I blurted out.
“No!” Mika said in horror and grabbed my arm.
“Are you sure?” Sebastian asked skeptically.
“Yes, I’m sure!” I said hotly.
“Oh, so you have evidence?” Sebastian countered. “Did you walk in on them?”
“No,” I admitted.
“Uh-huh. See, this is why I warned you that you needed a therapist and a self-reflective retreat, not a serious relationship. You’re still hurt, and I knew it was going to make you do something crazy like jump to conclusions.”
“But I’m sure she cheated!” I argued.
“I mean, how could she?” Mika said. “She spends all her time with you, me, or Imogen. She has a wedding every weekend, sometimes two if there’s a Sunday ceremony. She’s constantly Instagramming about planning these weddings or going to these weddings.”
“She did it in Miami,” I told them. “Her mother said she saw her with a Cuban millionaire.”
“Nope. I was with her all night.” Mika shook her head. “The only time we weren’t in the club was when we went out to get some air and look at the boats. You’re the one who left,” she reminded me.
“Fuck. I think I screwed up,” I swore, resting my head in my hands.
“Just go talk to her tomorrow,” Sebastian said, patting me on the back. “Ivy seems like a reasonable woman. I’m sure if you explained yourself and bought her a nice gift, she would overlook your bout of hysterics.”