If it had been any other bride, she would have just been joking, but Addison was dead serious.
“We are here supporting our significant others, but we will be working on your wedding tonight,” Ivy assured her.
“You better,” Addison said sourly. “Nothing you have shown me so far has lived up to my expectations. I am paying for quality and good service. Now I don’t know what significant others two wedding planners have. I assume you’re here as a plus-one for the catering staff.”
“Nothing wrong with caterers,” I said. “Anyone who makes the food is okay in my book.”
Addison made a face. “Just don’t eat over my wedding photos.”
She looked past me, her eyes lighting up.
“And look who came to congratulate me on my upcoming wedding,” she boasted.
I looked over my shoulder in time to see Chris approaching.
Addison crossed her arms.
“Did you come to apologize and tell me how much you regret breaking up with me?” she asked haughtily.
Wait, what?
I looked between Addison and Chris. She was his ex? I felt dumpy and round in my dress compared to Addison with her ballerina stature and perfect makeup.
No wonder Chris seems put out by having you in his house, if Addison is what he’s used to.
I expected a lot of bedroom eyes and mild flirting from Chris. But instead my fake husband gave her an assessing look.
“No,” he said after a moment. “I didn’t. I came to ask how you knew my wife.”
Addison’s mouth flopped open, and she clutched her bag.
Chris wrapped an arm around me, tucking me under his arm. Then he leaned down to press a kiss to my cheek.
“I thought it was a rumor. You can’t marry my wedding planner!” she sputtered.
What was Chris doing?
Ivy had her professional smile plastered on. We could not afford to lose a client.
“I hear they’re the best in the business,” Chris said mildly.
“You don’t even love her!” Addison insisted, nostrils flaring.
“Wrong,” Chris said. “I never loved you.”
Addison tucked her clutch under her arm.
“We understand that in light of this potential conflict of interest—” Ivy began in a rush.
Addison bared her teeth, white against her dark-pink lipstick.
“You’re not weaseling out of planning my wedding this easily,” she said. “We will discuss this at the meeting in a few days.”
I reeled after she left.
“I need a drink and a snack.”
“You cannot have her as a client,” Chris said darkly.
