After they hung up, Ani lay back on her bed and stared at the ceiling. An ornate white and crystal chandelier blinked down at her. That was one mercy, that Sanan still wanted to work together. Didn’t hate her for keeping that secret from her.
She had been worried about Sanan finding out, butRaffi. What he must think of her, if he even saw?
Then her phone rang. Probably Talar, pursuing a new avenue after Ani ignored her texts.
It was Raffi.
Ani bolted upright. Shit. She wasn’t sure how to explainherself. For the first time in a while, she considered declining. Thatnottalking to him would be easier than talking to him. Then that thought made her panic. Did that mean she and Raffi were on shaky ground? Did that mean she didn’t really love him? She didn’t know. Why wasn’t there someone out there who could just tell her all the answers?
On what she imagined must be the phone’s very last ring, she picked up.
“Hi,” she said wanly.
“Ani? You okay? Can’t believe I’m making a call like this again. I’m not kidding, as soon as the wedding is over, if you want me to, I’m flying to the fuckingDaily Mailoffice and punching Basil Wentworth in the face.”
Ani traced a finger along the edge of the duvet. “I think they all work from home now anyway,” she said, feeling small.
“Ani,” he responded, frustration in his voice.
She took a deep breath. “It’s true, you know,” she said. “The article.”
“What? Which part? What do you mean?”
Ani sighed, fell back on her bed, and closed her eyes. “That I’m in debt. Less so now, since Grace and Kami paid me half of the planning and project-management fees. But that was the real reason I took on the wedding. Not because I was hung up on Kami. Not because I wanted to do a luxury wedding. Because I needed the money.”
Silence on the other line. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Raffi said finally, but he didn’t sound angry. Or accusing.
Just…sad. Like it hurt him to know she’d been carrying this alone. Curious, too, like he was trying to piece together how she could trust him with so much—but not this.
Ani’s eyes snapped open, and she sat up. Her chest tightened, heat rising to her face—not just from frustration but from the awful, twisting shame of it. “Because. You wouldn’t understand. Fifty thousand is nothing to you. It’s crushing to me. Crushing. It’s been weighing on me like a backpack full of lead for almost an entire year. And it’s all because I was too trusting, too ignorant to see the truth of the situation.”
Ani had heard him swallow when she mentioned that the amount of money was nothing to him. She knew it was true. “How did it happen?” he asked.
So Ani recounted the Avedissians’ deceit, including how she tracked them down but discovered they’re in Bali so that was a dead end. It was on her to make up the money herself.
“I’m going to be honest. I’m feeling a little embarrassed buying you that dress, taking you out to those dinners. What did you think of me? God. Meanwhile, I could have just…” Raffi said.
Ani’s eyes narrowed. “Donotsay you could have just given me the money. I know you could. I didn’t ask. I could have asked Talar, too. I never did. The article makes me out to be some poor, dumpy little wedding planner charity case, and I will not turn into that.”
“Of course not, Ani. Of course you’re not.” He sounded firm, and so sure of himself. But instead of building her up, it only made her feel smaller. Like she had tricked him somehow into thinking she was some great person when she was not.
Ani looked at the time. She couldn’t burrow away in here any longer. “Listen, I have to go. I just need—I need a little time to think.”
“About what?” Raffi asked. “About us?” He sounded panicked.
“I have to go. We’ll talk later, okay?” she said, and hung up.
She was feeling absolutely miserable. Like the ground had been yanked out from under her, and she had to pretend she wasn’t still stumbling. Undeserving of her sweet boyfriend, with his gentle steadiness that never wavered, even when she was at her lowest.
She had been publicly humiliated, been dragged through the mud, and had her name splashed across headlines like some kind of cautionary tale. And today, she had no choice but to step right back into the public eye, bruised ego and all, with nowhere to hide.
But none of those feelings mattered, because there was a wedding to tend to, and her job—her reputation—depended on perfection. So she would push down everything, put on her best face, and do what she did best—make something beautiful, even if she felt like a disaster inside.
30
Raffi
Raffi was notdoing well when he pulled into Ô in preparation for the wedding festivities. The place was surrounded by reporters and paparazzi again, and this time? This time Raffi was not feeling so charitable. He whipped out his phone and looked up the local police station number.
