“Ivy wouldn’t be homeless. I wouldn’t allow that to happen,” I said, eyes narrowed.
“Dude, if Ivy finds out your hands were in that shit pie, she’s going to have your balls,” Wes warned. “I’ll call the lawyers this afternoon and start getting the process moving,” he continued. “Might want to get the Svenssons to hold off a bit. Just tell them this is coming. They can cool it.”
“Thanks, man,” I told him, shaking his hand. “I owe you one.”
Wes grimaced. “I may or may not be in the market for a groomsman. It depends on how many bridesmaids Liz wants. I only have three cousins, so we may need a few brave souls.”
“Hey, I have way more experience with weddings than I ever wanted!”
44
Ivy
Ismiled after I finished texting with Evan. Then I screenshotted the conversation and sent it to the group chat with my friends.
Ivy:Welp, guess I’m dating Evan now.
Brea:Yay! It was the magic undies.
Elsie:*Face-palm*No, she had an adult conversation with him.
Elsie:Just please do me a favor and keep this under wraps until after Imogen’s wedding certificate is signed.
Ivy:*thumbs-up emoji*
“Where is my dress?” Imogen said loudly as the front door to Evan’s condo sprang open.
“In here,” I called, thankful that I had dressed quickly. I still wore the sexy lingerie under my clothes. I had been so worried that Imogen and Mika would come back any second as I was taking the picture to send to Evan that I had put my blouse and skirt on immediately afterward. Props to Brea though, the lingerie was the most comfortable underwear I’d ever worn.
Imogen regarded the dress.
“You’re going to look stunning in that gown,” my mother assured her. “You’re going to be the best bride ever. Ivy was telling me how Evan’s doing a whole magazine issue on your wedding. You’re going to be an international star!”
Imogen basked in the fawning praise. “I will, won’t I!”
Teddy arrived, followed by the concierge and several doormen wheeling a cart with the gift-box supplies. “Look, Immie! Our goblets are here,” he said.
“Are those the ones you had made on Murano Island when you were in Venice?” Mika asked.
“It was a romantic trip, wasn’t it, Imogen?” Teddy said, leaning over to kiss her. But Imogen didn’t kiss him back. Instead, she was glaring at the champagne flutes.
“They’re just so ugly,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “The girls and I were talking about it last night, and we agreed that we cannot use the ones from Murano. Tiffanie found these at a boutique. They’re much nicer than those handmade ones,” she stated as my mom unwrapped two very nice but somewhat generic gold-monogrammed crystal champagne flutes.
“But we designed these together, Immie,” Teddy said, obviously hurt. “They are a representation of our love.”
“Yes,” Imogen said impatiently, “but look at them—they’re hideous with all the burgundy and yellow and bubbly glass. They look like a child’s project. We can’t have these on the main wedding table, especially not with the magazine editors prowling around. What would people think? No, throw them out.”
“But I want to have them,” Teddy insisted.
“I’m already giving you a cigar bar,” Imogen said, raising her voice.
“Teddy,” her mother pleaded. “Just let Immie have this one thing.”
“She gets to have everything,” Teddy snapped.
The concierge and doorman looked at me in concern as they helped me unload all the gift-box items.
“I’m starting to think this is all about you and your wedding and not what I want,” Teddy said then pointed to me. “You. Wedding planner. I want to have a table dedicated to the New York Giants, since I can’t have these goblets.”
