CHAPTER1
OH, LOOK, IT’S THE CONSEQUENCES OF MY ACTIONS
IVY
THE END
Life isn’t a movie, with perfect lighting and mistakes hidden on the cutting room floor. It’s theater. Chaotic and unpredictable, with no way to un-fuck a fuckup except to improvise and hope everyone rolls with it until you can throw yourself through a fake window and hope for death.
There are no fake windows tonight. Only the very real kind that won’t be half as painful to go through as this awkward dinner party is.
The dining hall (which is as cold and vast as my college swimming pool) is dappled in candlelight. Darkness looms over the twenty of us forebodingly. Sondheim would be proud.
Yesterday, I sat here and smiled, my heart fed and full while the sun streamed in, flooding the room in its golden glow. Tonight, the thick curtains are drawn tighter than the knots in my stomach.
I can’t believe it’s come to this.
All I wanted was a bit of fun. A flight of fancy I could remember when I’m old and arthritic and no longer able to taste salt. Somewhere out there, Mom is shaking her head, asking if I’ll ever learn.
(I won’t.)
Of course the scene is set beautifully. My doom wouldn’t be staged any other way.
Lincoln is as dashing as ever in a midnight blue suit, his dark blond hair brushed back in a charming swoop that is ruining my heart in three different ways. The birthday cake on my plate tastes better than any meal I’ve eaten in all twenty-seven years of my cake-loving life, and the past few days have been like something out of a fairy tale (complete with the dastardly villain).
And still, I’d rather puke all over the antique chair I’m sitting on than deal with the upcoming fallout of my big, beautiful mouth. Honestly, with the way my nerves are battling it out right now, there’s a strong chance I might.
Astrid—one of the few people in this room I actually like—shuffles her seat closer to mine and catches my hand, telling me about the time she saw Christian Borle inFalsettos. “He’s a fucking treasure,” she whispers, earning a startled look from Darcy. “You must come with me to New York so we can see his next show.”
My heart whimpers. “I’d love that,” I force out.
Dammit, I’ll miss her the most. After Lincoln, of course.
From the other end of the table I can make out the dark look in Kyle’s eyes. They burn black as he stares me down. Even Lincoln’s broad palm on my thigh isn’t helping. Turning to him, I know I’m not the only one who’s rattled. His expression is calm, but the low light dances over his newly shaven jaw every time it clenches.
Every bite of black forest goes down wrong, anxiety kicking and scratching in my gut like an angry toddler begging for attention. Damn Kyle and his fucking agenda. This cake is delicious, and he’s ruined it.
Maybe when Lincoln’s family kicks me out on my tap-dancing ass, I can sneak through the kitchen and take a piece for the road. It’ll go well with my self-loathing.
Kyle clears his throat loudly enough to draw his father’s frown from the head of the table. “I know it’s customary on the last night for the birthday boy to make a speech,” he says, pasting on his gummy smile. “But I’m hoping you won’t mind if I say a few words instead.”
Joe, who just turned ninety and does not look humored to be called a boy, waves his pale hand, looking as uncomfortable as I’ve seen him all weekend, which is really saying something. “I already said we don’t need to bother with all that.”
Oh, Joe. If only Kyle gave a shit.
Whenever I’ve imagined breaking a leg at a family gathering, it’s always been in the “drama kid who forces their parents to watch their latest one-woman show to rave reviews” kind of way. Not the actual, literal kind.
Now, any joy I take in the way Kyle wobbles on his sprained ankle as he pushes his chair back to stand is tainted. And yeah, okay, it’s just a sprain, but come on. I’m posturing here. Go with it.
“Trust me, you want to hear this.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat and grip Lincoln’s hand, looking away from Kyle’s beady little eyes, only to find Darcy watching me, concerned.
My time is up.
It won’t matter that I’m completely head-over-heels, to-the-ends-of-the-universe-and-beyond in love with Lincoln, because at the end of the day, this is my fault.
My lies have touched every person I care about in this room, and now it’s time to face my final curtain.
