Mari’s professional mask slid back into place so seamlessly it was terrifying. “Just doing our job,” she said with a warm smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Let’s get you and Manny to your getaway car in style.”
The send-off was flawless. Golden light from dozens of sparklers illuminated Lia and Manny’s faces as they ran through the tunnel of well-wishers, stole a final, cinematic kiss, and climbed into their waiting car. As the vehicle pulled away, guests cheered and waved, the perfect end to a perfect day. At least for the newlyweds.
As the crowd dispersed and vendors began breaking down, I finally cornered Mari in one of the backrooms. She stood alone at a table, gathering discarded papers, her back to me. The string quartet had packed up, the DJ had dismantled his equipment, and the catering staff were clearing the last of the dessert displays. We were nearly alone for the first time since everything had imploded.
“Sweetheart,” I said quietly, approaching her with caution.
Her shoulders tensed, but she didn’t turn. “I have vendors to oversee.”
“Please. Give me five minutes.”
She continued collecting papers. “I don’t think there’s anything to say. The wedding’s over. This is over.”
“No.” I stepped closer, stopping when she stiffened. “We haven’t even started. What happened tonight?—”
“What happened,” she cut in, finally turning to face me, “is that I discovered the man I was sleeping with, the man I trusted, has been stealing my ideas and passing them off as his own to advance his career. Did I miss anything?”
“Mar—”
“Don’t. I don’t want to hear your bullshit.”
“The app,” I began, throat tightening around the words. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”
“Like what? You getting caught?” Her laugh was hollow, nothing like the full-bodied sound I’d grown addicted to. God, she was empty.
“When I first mentioned a digital platform to Mrs. Trolio, it was just a vague concept. I was trying to impress her, to show I had innovative ideas beyond traditional wedding planning.”
“Myinnovative ideas,” Mari corrected.
My chest constricted. “Yes.” I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “It was… I saw the designs for the app before you told me. It was an accident.”
“Oh, I’m sure it was.” She slammed the pile of papers onto the table. “And you accidentally took credit for it. I’m sure this whole thing is one giant fucking accident. And the business plan she mentioned? The proposal?” Mari’s eyes narrowed. “Was that an accident too?”
I swallowed hard. “After our initial conversation, she asked for more details. I couldn’t back out, so I... expanded on what you’d shared with me. Added some financial projections, user interface concepts.”
“User interface concepts,” she repeated, voice dangerously soft. “You mean the sketches I showed you that night in the office? The ones I’ve been developing for years?”
I’d used them, incorporated them into my proposal without a second thought.
“I’m sorry.” The words felt pathetically inadequate. “I know it was wrong. I knew it then. But my parents were almost proud of me for the first time, and they were watching, expecting me to fail, and I just... I panicked.”
“So you stole my idea to impress Mommy and Daddy?” The professional mask slipped further, anger bleeding through. “That’s your excuse? God, you’re a fucking idiot.”
“I know. I know. And it’s not an excuse. It’s an explanation.” I took a step toward her, stopping when she immediately backed away. “Mari, I never intended for it to go this far. I thought it would be a one-time conversation, something to get my parents off my back. I didn’t know she’d offer me a position based on it.”
“And yet you didn’t correct her tonight,” Mari pointed out, her hands crossed over her chest. “You didn’t say, ‘Actually, this is Mari’s concept.’ You stood there and took the credit. Again.”
She was right. I had no defense.
“I should have,” I admitted, the back of my neck burning. It didn’t help when I rubbed it. “I wanted to. But it all happened so fast, and my parents were there, and?—”
“Stop.” She held up a hand, the gesture cutting off my words. “Just stop. I don’t want to hear about your parents or your pressures or your pathetic justifications. I don’t want your shitty excuses, Hudson. You stole from me. This app was mine, and you fucking stole it.”
The raw pain in her voice made my stomach clench. “I know it’s important?—“
“Important?” She laughed, the sound brittle and dangerous. “It’s not just important, Hudson. It’s my dream. My future. Something I’ve been working toward for years. You were the only person I trusted to tell.”
She stepped closer, close enough that I could smell her perfume—the same scent that had lingered on my sheets for the past week.
