Page 82 of Rivals Not Welcome


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“Well, it shows,” Mrs. Trolio said. “The creative director position is practically yours. The board just wants to finalize a few details.”

Creative director? What? Why did it feel like I was being stabbed in the eyes with little needles. Oh god, was I going to cry? Fuck no. No, no, no.

“We’re thrilled, of course,” Mrs. Gable interjected, her glacial smile thawing when she addressed Mrs. Trolio. “Hudson belongs at a publication with Modern Wedding’s prestige. The Gable name and the Modern Wedding brand are perfectly aligned.”

“Indeed,” Mr. Gable agreed. “Our son is the best out there.”

My mind whirred. Creative director. Modern Wedding. My app concept. Hudson had been planning this all along.

Shock strangled me first, then confusion, then a sickening clarity that made my skin feel too tight.

Hudson’s gaze finally found mine, guilt flashing across his features before he looked away again.

“The beginning offer is quite generous,” Mrs. Trolio continued. “We want to make the transition as smooth as possible.”

He was getting a fancy new job because of me.

With my app.

“We’d want you starting by the end of the month,” Mrs. Trolio replied. “The next issue will announce your appointment, alongside your feature on this wedding.”

God, he’d been planning this. I knew he’d gotten a spread with Modern Wedding. We’d talked about it. But now it made sense whyhe’d never given me any details about what the spread would contain. This wasn’t new. This had been in motion for months. All while he was sleeping in my bed, accepting my ideas, making me believe we were building something together.

My chest constricted, but my face remained perfectly composed. Professional Mari. Competent Mari. Mari who didn’t cause scenes at clients’ weddings. Damn, I hoped Anica would’ve been proud. She was the one who’d have to deal with the fallout if I threw a hissy fit.

“You must be very proud,” I said to Hudson, my voice remarkably steady. Fuck. Had someone slipped shattered glass into my champagne? It certainly felt like it. “Creative director of Modern Wedding. Quite an achievement. Glad you have such stupendous and inventive ideas.”

He flinched and reached for me, but I backed up with that godforsaken smile plastered on my face.

“Mari—”

“If you’ll excuse me,” I cut in, “I should check on the cake cutting timeline. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Trolio, Gables.”

I spun on my heels and walked away before anyone could respond. Keeping my back straight, my smile fixed in place, I hid that inside something essential was crumbling. Thankfully, no one watching would ever know.

I made it to the service corridor before stopping, pressing my palm flat against the cool wall, focusing on breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Don’t hyperventilate. Don’t cry. Don’t throw up on your three-hundred-dollar shoes.

My phone buzzed with a text from Anica.

The maid of honor just posted pics. Venue looks STUNNING. You’ve outdone yourself! I’m so proud of you, Mar!

I stared at the screen, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in my throat. If only she knew. My business partner, my best friend, would be devastated to learn that our expansion plans might now compete with Hudson Gable’s stolen version of my app.

I typed back a response.

Everything’s perfect. Talk tomorrow.

Perfect. What a joke.

The bathroom door banged open nearby, and two bridesmaids stumbled out, giggling.

“—never seen Lia so happy,” one was saying. “And that first dance? I literally cried.”

“Same. And did you see Manny’s face during the vow exchange? God, I want what they have.”

They spotted me and smiled, tipsy and radiant. “This wedding is amazing!” the taller one gushed. “You’re the planner, right? Lia said you’re, like, a genius.”

“Co-planner,” I corrected automatically. “Thank you. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”