“Carly, please, I’m sorry I—”
“Fuck you, and fuck your apologies, Nick Jacobs,” she marched over to the desk and snatched her bag from where she’d tossed it the previous night.
“Oh, great, you’re going to storm out again?” he said in disbelief. “You’re not going to stay and do the hard thing and talk about this? Why am I not surprised, Carly? Storming out is all you know how to do.”
She stared at him, her tear-streaked face the picture of wounded rage. Then she took a deep, shuddering breath through her nose. When she spoke, her voice was low and dangerous and white-hot with rage, but it was perfectly steady.
“We will not talk about this. Not to each other, and definitely not to Heather and Marcus. Tomorrow is theirwedding, and we will be the perfect wedding party for them, because that’s what they deserve and that is what we’re here to do. But I swear to God, Nick Jacobs, if you come near me for anything other than best man purposes, I will tell everyone you’re a fraud. Because that’s whatyoudeserve.”
She didn’t even wait for his reply. She gave him one last, disgusted look, then turned and walked out the door.
Carly’s hands were still shaking with rage when she arrived at her apartment. She slammed the door behind her and dumped her bag on the floor, wishing she could smash plates or swing a sledgehammer or scream at the top of her lungs. She settled for marching to the couch and screaming into one of the many starfish-covered pillows.
God, she’d been such an idiot to trust Nick. To believe a word out of his mouth when this whole time he’d been lying to her, lying to all of them. She’d bought the lies, and frittered away what precious time she had to secure her promotion.
She was furious at Nick, but just as furious with herself. She’d been so desperate to get promoted that she’d been willing to believe anything. Willing to grovel and plead for his help and feel grateful when he gave it to her. And it had worked out perfectly for him, hadn’t it? He was no longer an “obscure” photographer, he’d gotten his little holiday fling, and he’d get to walk away and off into his new job before he could even get sick of her and her broken vagina. Tomorrow Heather and Marcus were going to get married, and Nick was going to ride off into the sunset,Voguecontract in hand, and she’d be right where she started, washed up and burned out in her early thirties, with no plan for what came next. As much as she loved Heather, why was it that everyone around her was succeeding and leaving her behind? Nick had just been handed the chance of a lifetime, because of her idea. Her work, her time, her willingness to humble herself and ask for his help after years of working her ass off in the corps and refusing her parent’s offers. She’d given ballet everything, and she was still stuck. Standing still while everyone else moved on.
Carly’s eyes filled with hot, humiliated tears as she remembered how hopeful she’d felt when she’d read Ivy’s article this morning. It had felt like her work was finally paying off, and she’d been so delighted to see those photos in print. Now, her moment in the spotlight felt like a farce. The memory of Nick’s words, there on the page, made her stomach roil in disgust.I love taking photos of her.For a few brief and idiotic moments, she’d wanted him to tell her that he loved more about her than how well she photographed. God, she was an idiot.
After an hour of sniffling and self-recriminating, she trudged across the living room and pulled her phone out of her bag. She’d missed a call from Heather.
Heather, 10:21AM: Just got a call from the florist, the flowers will be delivered at 10am tomorrow.
Carly, 2:53PM: Sounds good, I’ll be ready for them.
It was the very last wedding task on her list before the big day really began. Once the flowers, vases, and bouquets were dropped off, she’d put them in the fridge until right before the wedding, so they wouldn’t wilt in the sun. Heather had cleared space in the fridge and made sure that Davo bought plenty of ice and a few spare coolers just in case they ran out of room for all the drinks. She’d thought of everything.
Heather, 2:54PM: Great, thanks. I also sent a sample of that tequila to poison control because I’ve never been this hungover in my life
Carly let out a watery laugh. She stared down at her phone, wondering if she should tell Heather what had just happened with Nick. She tapped out a few words, wondering where to start. What would she even say?I thought Nick actually cared about me and I wanted to be right? I thought we were a team but he’s been lying to me, to all of us?She shook her head, then pressed a shaking thumb to the delete button and erased it all.
Carly, 2:56PM: LOL
Heather didn’t need Carly’s problems on her plate again, not the day before her wedding. She’d handle this on her own, she thought, tossing the phone onto the couch and taking a deep, steadying inhale. As long as Nick Jacobs stayed the hell away from her, she’d be fine.
Chapter 22
After weeks of sweltering heat, the weather gods smiled on them the morning of the wedding. When Carly woke up, she checked the weather app on her phone and saw that it would be warm but not blistering, breezy but not windy, and there wasn’t a drop of rain in the forecast. Heather had made three separate bad weather contingency plans, because of course she had. But it looked like she wouldn’t need any of them.
Carly snuck a look at her Instagram account. She’d broken twenty-five thousand followers some time overnight, probably thanks to Ivy’s article, and she’d been tagged in dozens more posts where young dancers from all over the world were mimicking her poses. A few other news outlets had followed Ivy’s lead, too, and had written up the photos. They all referred to Nick as “formerly unknown,” or “under the radar.” The words made her want to throw her phone across the room at the seashell wallpaper.
He’d lied to her. He’d lied to all of them, but especially to her. He’d known how reluctant she was to ask him for help, and he’d let her plead for it anyway. And now he was walking away with all the spoils of their project, and she had no way of knowing if this plan—her plan!—was going to work. She glanced back at her follower count and then plopped her phone back on the bed. Sure, she’d racked up a bunch of followers. But it felt like a hollow victory. Where was herVoguephone call?
As much as she wanted to stay in bed plotting ways to destroy Nick Jacobs, today wasn’t the day for it. Today was Heather’s day. Heather was the reason Carly had flown halfway around the world and blown all her savings on this so-kitschy-it’s-almost-cool Airbnb. Heather was the reason she was here instead of back home in New York trying to ensure she had a professional future. Heather was the reason she still kind of sort of believed in true love. So she couldn’t destroy Nick Jacobs today. Because today she was going to be what Heather needed her to be: the world’s best maid of honor.
Before she got in the shower, she spent a few minutes lying on the couch with a cool washcloth over her eyes, hoping it would bring down the lingering swelling from yesterday’s sobfest. Once she’d showered and packed all her makeup and accessories into her bag, she went to the closet and pulled her teal dress out of the closet, then grabbed her phone charger and her phone, trying not to notice as she did that there were no missed calls or texts from Nick.Good, she thought. There was nothing he could say to her that she wanted to hear.
She grabbed an iced coffee on the way to Heather and Marcus’s and found Marcus walking out of the front gate just as she arrived. She hitched her mouth up into a smile and hoped it looked genuine.
“Good morning, groom!” she called, waving as best she could with her hands full.
“Good morning, maid of honor,” he replied, jiggling his garment bag at her in lieu of a wave. “Alice is already here, and Izzy has brought enough hair and makeup stuff for an extremely attractive army. I’m heading over to Nick’s place to primp with him and Davo.”
Carly swallowed, trying not to think about the three of them gathered in Nick’s hotel room, two of them oblivious to what had happened there yesterday. She imagined them toasting to Nick’s new job offer and wanted to scream.
“Have a great time, and we’ll see you at the end of the aisle,” she said, with another attempt at a smile.
Marcus nodded, then stopped. He looked over his shoulder, back at the house, and then down toward the beach where, a few hours from now, he and Heather would be married.
