“What deal?” I shouted over the music.
She pointed up to Evan, who was pouring himself another drink and glaring at the bottle darkly.
“If he wants to act like a toddler, what can I do about it?” I said defensively.
“If you want a ring on your finger, you have to go cheer him up,” my mother said, glaring at me. “I should have had a son. Then he could have supported me. Unfortunately, I didn’t. Now I have to rely on you, so you need to snag a rich man. You can’t let Evan slip through your fingers.”
“I’m not chasing after a man.” I crossed my arms.
“Then you’re going to lose him to Camilla.”
“He hates Camilla.”
“It doesn’t matter,” my mother insisted. “Camilla is the mother of his unborn child. She might be able to convince him to come back.”
The music faded out, leaving only a deep rushing noise in my ears. I blinked and swayed in my high heels, thinking I was going to faint.
“She doesn’t—that’s not possible. He said…” I trailed off, forgetting what excuse I was going to give for Evan.
“Men are liars,” my mother insisted. “I should know. That’s how I ended up ruining my life with you. I had to sacrifice—”
“Yes, yes, I know,” I said, cutting her off. She glared at me, but I didn’t care.
Evan is going to be a father? With Camilla’s baby?
“He’s known for ages,” my mother said. “Camilla just texted Imogen about it. She said she and Evan already talked about it and are making a co-parenting plan, but they are trying to keep it under wraps until after the wedding.”
“That fucking liar.”
“This is a good thing,” my mother insisted, shaking me. “He doesn’t want her. He wants you, but you’re giving it away too easily. You need to play hard to get. Drive him so crazy that he forgets about Camilla. Sure, he’ll have to pay child support, but it will be a drop in the bucket compared to the real prize of being Mrs. Harrington. Think of Tom Brady and Gisele Bündchen. He has a son with that horse-faced girl, but everyone knows Gisele is his favorite. But do you think she was just giving away the milk for free? No!”
“I just don’t want to be involved with any of it,” I mumbled, feeling heartbroken and sick. “I need some air.”
My mom patted me on the arm. “I’ll take care of it. That billionaire is my retirement plan. I’m not letting you give up that easily. You’ll see. I’ll have Evan crawling back to you.”
47
Evan
Camilla was pregnant. I looked at the ultrasound photo on my phone. My head spun as I drank to numb my thoughts. The salsa music grated inside my skull.
“That bitch.” Another swig of vodka.
I tried to do the math. She was how far along? The last time we’d slept together had been a few months before the wedding, so certainly enough time for me to be the father.
Fuck.
I had thought I had been rid of Camilla, but now I was tied to the cheater for the rest of my life. I poured another drink. This could not be happening. The worst of it was, I had to tell Ivy. She was going to kill me.
A small, hopeful part of me thought,Maybe she’ll be understanding.
Even I knew that was a lot to ask of a woman—to stick around for the drama, for the heartache. But Ivy had said she loved me, that she didn’t want to lose me. Sure, it was right after I gave her a series of mind-blowing orgasms, but Ivy had always said weddings and commitment meant something.
I had to believe it meant something.
I felt like the only way I would survive this was with Ivy. She was the only thing keeping me from walking out into the ocean and drowning. I looked around, needing to see her. I would have to tell her soon, before she found out. I couldn’t find her on the dance floor though.
The servers came by with another bottle and poured me a glass. I nursed it, still searching for Ivy. I had dragged myself up to go look for her when her mother, Tiffanie, returned to the VIP area.
