“But Immie, none of our friends had round invites,” Teddy said, waving the sandwich around. A wet slice of tomato fell out onto the table.
“Probably because they have better sense,” Mika said.
“I have an even better idea,” I said, earning me another annoyed look from Ivy. “The wedding invitations should include a drink coaster with the information.”
“We already sent out save the dates,” Ivy said. “And due to the guest list discussions, we are very behind on sending these invitations out.”
“I’m not signing off on them unless they’re round and include a beer coaster,” Teddy said defiantly. “Evan, don’t pay for them if they aren’t what I want.”
And lo, a groomzilla was born.
“You’re my brother, Evan!” Imogen complained. “You have to do what I want!”
“It’s Teddy’s day too!”
29
Ivy
“You are such an awful person,” I said, turning on Evan after his family left.
“I don’t understand why you have to be so emotionally invested,” he retorted.
“It’s literally my job,” I snapped at Evan, stacking the invitations back into the carrying case.
“I just don’t think weddings are that serious,” he said. “They’re just a reason for people to spend a bunch of money to act snotty.”
“They are a declaration of love and a joining together of families,” I told him, pausing to look him in the eye. “They’re beautiful.”
“I just don’t think it’s honest,” Evan replied with a scowl. “People just marry because that’s the thing to do. They force a casual sexual relationship into something more serious, something it’s not meant to be.”
“Look at you being all smart and philosophical,” I said. “I never would have thought.”
“And yet you respected me enough to make out with me,” Evan replied, wiping the mayo off of two of the invitations and handing them to me.
“No, I found you attractive enough to make out with you. Everyone knows there’s an inverse correlation between attractiveness and intelligence. It’s shocking you’re even able to form a coherent sentence,” I shot back.
“Because I’m so hot?” he said with that stupid-sexy crooked grin.
“I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”
“You know you want me to fuck you.” The casual way Evan said it, as if it was an inevitability, as if he could read all my dirty thoughts about him, was loosening the bonds I had strapped down over my desire for him.
“I’m not sleeping with a client, especially not after a wedding-planning meeting.”
“Yes, because we don’t want to disrupt the sanctity of Imogen’s wedding.” Evan rolled his eyes.
“Hey, I need people to believe in marriage. That’s literally my livelihood! And I’ll appreciate it if you stop throwing wrenches in the wedding-planning operation,” I retorted.
Evan quirked an eyebrow. “Look at you manipulating people into weddings just for your own financial gain.”
“It’s not the same thing as what you’re doing!” I protested. “I’m doing this because I care about the brides!”
Evan smirked. “You can’t fool me. You’re a ruthless capitalist at heart. If I had one of the bridal magazines my company owns do an exposé on your firm, you’d throw off your clothes and beg me to fuck you in exchange.”
I tried to keep my expression neutral. “We are quite busy as it is,” I told him. “So no thank you.”
In my head, I was thinking,Holy shit! Where do I sign? We could raise prices, maybe rent office space, and I could actually get laid.
