“Really keeping it classy out here in rural New York,” I said and took a swig of the wine. “This is disgusting.”
“I paid for it, so drink up,” Ivy ordered.
“I just can’t believe Camilla would cheat on me,” I complained as I took another swig of the wine. Though it was cheap, the alcohol was welcomingly numbing.
“It happens to a lot of people,” Ivy said.
“Yes, but not to people like me,” I said bitterly. “I mean, look at me! I’m incredibly good-looking, I’m a billionaire, for fuck’s sake, I bought Camilla everything she wanted, and she cheats on me with fucking Arnold. I mean seriously. Arnold’s spent the last seven years pissing away his trust fund, and he’s losing his hair.”
“Yeah, I’m shocked that she would give up such a great catch,” Ivy said dryly.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I asked, taking another swig of the wine.
“Your hedge fund has been acquiring magazines and laying people off, buying up housing and kicking people out, and aren’t you in business with the Svenssons now?”
“What’s wrong with the Svenssons?”
“They’re crazy and grew up in a polygamist cult,” she said flatly.
“Well, look at Ms. Judgmental with her nineties Toyota,” I said meanly.
“Gee, and he’s shocked that karma just up and punched him in the face,” she said to the night sky.
“That’s cruel,” I told her. “I’m the victim.”
“You’re a whiny little man,” she snapped.
“I’m not little,” I purred, leaning into her. The cheap wine had gone straight to my dick. Along with being generally unpleasant, Camilla had subjected me to a serious case of dead bedroom. In the wine-fueled haze, Ivy was starting to look not so bad. She was cute in a curvy way.
I could definitely hit that.
The wedding planner glared at me. “How much did you have to drink?” She snatched the bottle out of my hand and shook it. The remaining dregs sloshed in the empty bottle.
“For someone who complained about the quality of the wine, you sure drank that entire bottle quickly.”
“I needed some gas in the tank of my love machine,” I told her.
“Your breath smells like alcoholic grape juice. You’re like an adult toddler.”
“And you smell like fish, but you don’t see me throwing that around, because it’s rude, and weird smells are between a woman and her doctor.”
“Welp.” She stood up and dusted herself off. “Thanks for the terrible evening. I’ll be calling your friends now.”
“Wait.” I grabbed her hand.
Ivy pinched one of my fingers between her nails.
“Ow!”
“A number,” she said impatiently.
I tipped my head back and watched the bugs bounce off the streetlights.
“I can’t deal with them right now,” I said quietly. “I can’t deal with my friends and their pity. I can’t deal with my sister, who’s just going to say ‘I told you so.’ I can’t deal with my stepmom, who is going to want me to give Camilla another chance because she’s a sorority sister of Camilla's mom’s. And I definitely cannot deal with my fucking father, who all through my life could never resist screwing over his only son and now has literally screwed me over.” I looked up at Ivy. “I just I need a break.”
She glared at me then rolled her eyes. “I’m not paying for a hotel. My credit card is already on life support as it is. So you can sleep outside, or you can call a friend. But me and my phone are leaving in the next two minutes.”
“Or,” I said, smiling slowly, “there’s a third option.”
