The question lands somewhere unguarded, and I swallow down the lump in my throat. "Yes," I say, squeezing his hand. "I'll stay as long as you want."
33
LIV
Striding between round tables, my clipboard in one hand and my phone in the other, I'm checking and rechecking details that were already perfect an hour ago.
"The centerpiece on table twelve needs to be rotated fifteen degrees clockwise," I call out to today's lead floral coordinator. “It looks off.”
It's been four days since I returned from Maryland, and I've thrown myself into work with a manic intensity that would concern my therapist if I still had one. The Worthington-Massey wedding is a huge affair and every detail has to be flawless. Not just because that's what the clients are paying for, but because staying busy means I don't have to think.
I don't have to think about helicopters appearing out of nowhere and about the way my entire family stared at me across that restaurant table, waiting for explanations I couldn't give. I don't have to think about the fact that I brought a complete stranger to my sister's wedding, slept with her, and have no idea who she actually is.
Most importantly, I don't have to think about how stupid I feel because she still hasn't called or messaged me back.
Sophie approaches. "The band wants to do a final sound check, but the florists are still working on the archway on the stage."
"Tell the band they have to wait twelve minutes," I say without looking up from my tablet. "And remind the florists that setup was supposed to be completed four minutes ago. I'm giving them an extra eight and that's generous."
My phone buzzes but I ignore it—another missed call from Emma. That makes six today. Even on her honeymoon she’s not letting it go. Mom has called twice, and there are seven unread text messages I haven't opened because I can't deal with their questions right now.
How do I explain that the woman they welcomed into their home, the woman they started referring to as their future daughter-in-law, was essentially a fiction? How do I admit that I know literally nothing real about her other than what I’ve learned from Google so far?
It's humiliating.
The worst part isn't even the lying, though that stings. The worst part is that for a brief, terrifying moment, I thought maybe I'd been wrong about everything. Maybe love wasn't just a chemical reaction designed to make people do stupid things. Maybe trust didn't inevitably lead to betrayal. Maybe I could let someone in without having my heart systematically dismantled.
"Florists are nearly done and the pink chocolate fountain is operational," Sophie reports, appearing at my side again.
"Great. Temperature check on the raw bar?"
"Holding steady at thirty-eight degrees."
I nod and continue my circuit of the space. The bride and bridesmaids will be here in two hours for photos, followed by the groom and wedding party. Cocktail hour begins at six, ceremony at seven, reception immediately following. I have the timelinememorized down to the minute, every potential complication anticipated and contingency planned.
My phone starts ringing, and when I glance at the screen, the world tilts sideways. Blair's name flashes across it, and my body reacts like I've been electrocuted. My pulse spikes, my hands start trembling, and there's this terrible flutter in my chest that feels like hope and dread having a knife fight.
"Liv?" Sophie's voice seems to come from very far away. "Did you hear what I asked? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I manage. "I've got to take this. Give me a minute."
I head toward the lobby and swipe to answer.
"Blair?" I clear my throat. "Blair Davis? I did some digging after your helicopter exit. Imagine my surprise when I discovered you're not a struggling personal trainer at all."
There's a pause on the line. "I'm sorry, Liv. I wanted to tell you?—"
"But you didn't." I blow out my cheeks. "And your brother? How is he? I assume that wasn't a lie from the way you reacted and suddenly took to the sky? Or was it?"
"No, I'd never lie about anything like that. Danny had a really bad head injury. It was an accident while he was playing with his friend. They put him in an induced coma and he had surgery. It was touch and go, but luckily he pulled through and he's recovering now." She pauses. "I've been at the hospital with him the whole time. I know I should have called you earlier, but?—"
"That's okay," I interrupt, fighting against the sympathy threatening to crack my resolve. "I'm glad your brother is going to be fine. That's all I wanted to know."
"I'll probably be here for a while," she continues. "But can we please meet up when I'm back in New York?"
"No, Blair," I say. "As I said, I'm glad your brother is going to be fine but as far as we're concerned, we're done."
"Please, Liv. I just want to explain?—"
