Self-loathing hits so strong it makes me nauseous.
I pull up the security app on my phone. I installed the new surveillance system myself last winter after my father fired the night watchman. My parents can barely operate the microwave, let alone a cloud-based security grid, so I stayed on as the admin.
I tell myself I'm just checking the perimeter.
But really, I'm checking for her.
Ivy walks back from the main house. She wears a yellow dress, her head held high, her posture perfect.
But then, as she reaches the cottage door, she stops.
She leans her forehead against the wood. Her shoulders slump. She stands there for a long minute, breathing.
Then she straightens up, puts the mask back on, and goes inside.
I close the laptop with a snap.
I can't be here. I can't be there.
I pick up my phone and call the one person who might understand, even though he will definitely punch me.
"Mark," I say when he answers. "Are you in the city?"
"Brooks?" Mark sounds surprised. "Yeah, Laurie and I just got back. Why?"
"I need a drink."
"It's Sunday afternoon."
"I know."
Mark sighs. "Okay. Meet me at The Avery. What's wrong? Did the deal tank?"
"No," I say, loosening my tie. "Everything's fine. I'm the disaster."
An hour later, I am sitting in a dark booth at The Avery, staring into a whiskey I haven't touched.
Mark is sitting across from me. Mark, the man whose wedding I tried to ruin. Mark, who looks happier and more rested than I have ever seen him.
"So," Mark says, leaning back in the leather booth. "I hear congratulations are in order. My mother called me this morning. Apparently, the grapevine says you're engaged to our bridesmaid, Ivy."
I wince. "News travels fast."
"In this tax bracket? It travels instantaneously." Mark swirls his scotch. "But you have the girl. You have the deal. Why do you look like you just kicked a puppy?"
"It's fake, Mark," I say. "The engagement. It's fake."
Mark doesn't look surprised. He just nods. "I figured. You're engaged to the woman who tackled you at my wedding. It was either hate or lust, and you usually handle lust with NDAs, not jewelry."
I freeze. I stare at him. "You saw that?"
"Brooks, I was the groom. I was standing ten feet away facing the congregation. I saw everything."
"But... you didn't stop the ceremony."
"Of course I didn't," Mark says calmly. "You stepped forward and took in a breath. You had that look on your face, the 'I'm about to say something logical and destructive' look. I knew you were going to object."
I look down at my drink, shame heating the back of my neck. "I was."
