“If it wasn’t you, he was going to chew me out about not being able to sell that penthouse at the top of the Brookview hotel that we just built.”
He pointed to a familiar picture on the wall in the waiting area. It was the same one that was on Ivy’s mood board.
“It cost us millions to fit out that penthouse,” Mike told me. “Each one of those clock windows was like a hundred fifty thousand dollars. I don’t suppose you want to buy it?” He grinned at me.
“After I close out this deal with your brother, I never want to touch real estate ever again,” I told him.
Mike laughed. “That’s what I said after my first deal. But you’ll see. It will all work out and be amazing. You’re going to turn into a real estate shark!”
* * *
I’m not goingto be anything, I thought as I rode in the town car to my penthouse uptown,if I don’t find a way to make Orson Sutherland give me that land.
Then I remembered Imogen. My half sister was marrying Sutherland’s nephew. I’d heard Teddy talk about his uncle on occasion. They seemed fairly close. Maybe being in the wedding party would help me score the land without having to deal with Camilla. I could put in a good word with Teddy and have him talk to Sutherland on my behalf.
As much as I didn’t want to go near another wedding, it couldn’t be that bad, right? I mean, the wedding planner did all the work. I just had to show up.
9
Ivy
“Another day, another wedding,” I told Fergus the next morning. I was trying to psych myself up for my meeting with Imogen. She’d been texting me all night about the dress, about how she was worried that the signature cocktails weren’t going to be any good, and how the flowers had to be better than the ones at her friend Serena’s wedding. I had tried to be as reassuring as possible, but I was still seething about Evan. It felt like a slap in the face, him sending the lasagna. Like, “Oh no, I won’t pay you the money you’re owed, or even ask someone else to pay the invoice. Instead I’m going to gift you all this lasagna even when I know good and well you have nowhere to store it.”
I angrily heated up a piece of it and ate it for breakfast. I needed the cheese and carbs to take the edge off. Imogen had taken a brief break from texting at around two in the morning then started back up again at five.
I gave Fergus the lasagna plate to lick. You weren’t supposed to feed cats lasagna, but that was probably nice, well-bred indoor cats, not cats that had lived outside for years, were half-feral, and ate garbage. Besides, the only time the Maine Coon let me pet him was when he was occupied with food.
After gingerly running my fingers through the fat cat’s fur, I steeled myself for my first bridal appointment of the day.
“Today is going to be a good day,” I assured myself as I wrapped my scarf around my neck. “Any day is a good day if you don’t have to deal with Evan Harrington.”
* * *
I arrivedat Imogen’s luxury condo ten minutes early.
“There you are,” she barked when her half sister Mika opened the door.
I had been to Imogen’s condo before, and I always had serious envy. The biggest positive was you couldn’t see the bed from the kitchen. Beyond that, it was a beautiful space—floor-to-ceiling windows, a large chef’s kitchen that had never been used, a floating curved staircase up to the second floor, and a long reclaimed-wood dining table.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she told me dramatically. On the table before her were headshots of her bridesmaids. Several girls who had originally been in the wedding party were conspicuously missing.
“Can you believe Kaitlyn?” Imogen huffed. “What kind of sorority sister gets pregnant when she knows her friend is getting married. Honestly.”
I counted the headshots. There were only four women left in the bridal party, down from eight.
“This will be a small, intimate group. There’s still enough for pictures,” I assured her.
Imogen bared her teeth at me. “I can’t only have four bridesmaids. Serena had seven bridesmaids in her party. Now I look like I don’t have any friends.” She crossed her arms and pouted.
“Maybe you have some cousins or coworkers?” I suggested.
“I already have Mika,” Imogen said in disgust, pointing to her half sister, who was bringing a platter of snacks and drinks to the table.
“Take those away, Mika. You’re trying to make me as big as you are. I have to look like a model on my wedding day. Speaking of—Ivy, did you get my messages about the dress? I cannot have my dress look dirty. The off-white dress is going to look like I’m a D-list celebrity on the red carpet, not a bride on the most important day of her life.”
“You did like the fabric when you originally picked the dress,” I gently reminded her.
“Yes, but I don’t think I like it now.”
