“Exactly,” Maria says, not looking up. “When you build the house yourself, you know exactly which floorboards creak. And you know no one’s planted a trapdoor in the middle of the aisle.”
I pause, the cold wire slipping through my fingers. “You think they’d actually try something? Tomorrow?”
Maria finally looks at me. Her brown eyes, much like mine despite no blood relation, is seasoned with a few more decades of seeing through people’s bullshit. “Robert and Elaine don’t see this as a wedding, Harley; they see it as a merger. And they’ve made it very clear they don’t like the terms of the contract. If they could find a way to make you look unreliable, or if they could steer the narrative back to what they want, they would. It’s exactly why I agreed to help you set up. This is your and Skyler’s wedding, not theirs. I’ll do anything to help make it yours.”
“They won’t do anything,” I say, and I realize I’m gritting my teeth. That’s why we’re here at three p.m. on a Friday. Because every centerpiece, every candle, and every scrap of ribbon was bought by me, not them. “They don’t get to claim the beauty of this day as their own work.”
“Amen,” Lily says, finally getting the tulle to drape in a way that doesn’t look like a shroud.
Once finished, she climbs down, her sneakers squeaking on the polished parquet. Then, she walks over and bumps her shoulder against mine. “You okay, Harl? You’re vibrating.”
I let out a slow, jagged breath. “I’m fine.”
Am I?
As best I can be right now.
I love Skyler.
And the finish line is right there.
“Tomorrow is the end of it,” I say, more to myself than them. I pick up a roll of white silk ribbon. “We say the vows. Drink the champagne. Go to the airport. Then we have weeks in St. Lucia where the only Thompson I have to deal with is the one I actually like. And then we go back to the city, to our apartment.”
“And if they feel like they can randomly show up?” Lily asks, raising a brow.
“Then I’m changing the locks,” I say.
Maria walks over, wiping her hands on a damp cloth. She reaches out and tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re strong, Harley. But don’t let that strength turn into bitterness. You’re marrying Skyler, not his father’s bank account.” Maria knows about the bribe and why I chose this venue.
“I’m trying,” I whisper. “I really am.”
“Screw ‘em,” Lily says, picking up a stray eucalyptus leaf and flicking it toward the trash can. “If Elaine starts acting out, I’ll accidentally-on-purpose spill red wine on her Chanel suit. I’ve been practicing my ‘clumsy’ face in the mirror for months.”
I laugh, and for the first time tonight, the knot in my chest loosens. “Don’t you dare. I want a peaceful wedding, Lily, not a bloodbath.”
“Why not both?” She grins, but she leans in and gives me a quick, fierce hug. “We’ve got this. Look at this place. It actually looks like you now, not a corporate retreat.”
As we step out into the cool night air, away from the stifling scent of the club, I stare at the stars. The sky is vast and indifferent to the dramas of the Thompsons.
“We made it,” I whisper.
I believe it. I have to. Because tomorrow I’m walking into that room, and I’m taking what belongs to me. I’m marrying the man I love, and I’m leaving the past few months behind us.
Chapter 15
Skyler
The heavy crystal of my watch catches the light as I check the time. Minutes. I’m minutes away from the foyer, from the music, from marrying the love of my life. Guests are already seated, and my groomsmen are lined up ahead of me.
Then, the phone in my pocket buzzes.
I answer quickly. “Harl? You’re supposed to be in the chair.”
“Skyler.” Her voice isn’t the soft thing I fell for. It’s flat, lifeless. “Tell me you’re joking. Tell me this is some kind of sick prank.”
A drop of sweat tracks down the small of my back. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“The ballroom. I came down early to check the flowers. The rustic cedar accents we spent months sourcing. Do you know what’s in here?”
