"Everything will be ready for pickup tomorrow afternoon," she tells me as she processes my credit card.
I nod and blow out my cheeks. We're really doing this. I'm really bringing a stranger to my sister's wedding and trusting her to pull off the performance of a lifetime. This will no doubt end in disaster.
"So," I say to Blair while we head toward the elevator. "We should go for a coffee and talk about... logistics. Money. How this is going to work. The wedding is two weeks from Saturday. It's a weekend thing—rehearsal dinner Friday, wedding Saturday, recovery brunch Sunday. Very traditional."
"Okay." Blair grins. "And where did we meet? How long have we been dating?"
"All good questions," I say. "Let's figure this out together."
6
BLAIR
Isettle into the same chair I claimed last time I was here. Liv sits across from me, her tailored blazer replaced by a simple cashmere sweater.
She wastes no time on pleasantries after I insist on getting our coffees. "Three thousand dollars for three nights," she says, her voice pitched low enough that the couple at the next table can't overhear. "Cash, if you prefer. The whole weekend—arrival on Thursday, rehearsal dinner Friday, wedding Saturday, recovery brunch Sunday."
Three thousand dollars.Internally I'm calculating what that means to someone who supposedly needs money for rent. It's generous—extremely generous. I school my features into what I hope looks like barely contained excitement.
"That's..." I pause. "That's amazing. Are you sure?"
"Absolutely. I'll pay you in full on Sunday morning though," she continues. "I want to make sure you don't disappear with half the money after the rehearsal dinner."
"Fair enough," I say, spreading my hands. "You don't know me from Adam. For all you know, I could take your money and the suit and catch the first bus out of town."
"Exactly So let's talk details. Our story—how we met, how long we've been together."
I lean back in my chair, considering. "How about we stick as close to the truth as possible? The closer we are to reality, the easier it'll be to remember under pressure."
"Makes sense," she agrees. "What are you thinking?"
"We met right here." I gesture around the coffee shop. "I was looking for a place to sit, you were annoyed because I basically stole your table."
She rolls her eyes and smiles. "You were completely shameless about it too."
"And then I wrote my number on a napkin like some kind of romantic comedy cliché."
"Except you weren't being romantic," she points out. "You were being opportunistic."
"Right, but your family doesn't need to know that part." I grin. "As far as they're concerned, I was charmed by your wit and determination to hold onto your corner table."
Liv chuckles. "Fine. We met here fourteen months ago, you asked for my number, we've been seeing each other since."
"And my job," I say. "Finance director. What kind of company?"
"Mid-sized investment firm," she says without hesitation. She's clearly thought this through. "Nothing too flashy or high-profile. A company that manages portfolios for upper-middle-class families who want steady returns, not venture capital excitement."
"Conservative, stable, boring," I summarize. "I can definitely play boring."
"Excellent. I wouldn't worry too much about detailed questions regarding work," she adds. "The guest list is mostly family and friends from home. Wholesome people, locals. Andmy sister and her fiancé don't really know anyone in New York except me."
"What do they do?" I ask. "Your sister and her fiancé?"
"Emma runs a nursery—the plant kind, not children—and David has a gardening business. They're... earthy."
"Sailor! A double shot oat and a cappuccino for Sailor!"
We both turn toward the counter where the barista is holding up two drinks.
