“I think we should call in some experts,” I said to Meg.
She grimaced. “I feel so bad for firing Weddings in the City in the first place. What am I supposed to do? Call them and be like ‘LOL, never mind. Please come fix my disaster of a wedding, even though you probably already canceled all my orders and whatnot’? Besides, I was pretty harsh on the phone to Ivy. I feel terrible.”
“I feel worse,” I assured her. “Amy won’t even return my calls.”
“Oh no!” Meg said.
“This wedding is going to be a disaster,” Hunter said. “Sebastian, you need to go back to Manhattan and grovel to Amy. Beg her to come back and fix this wedding. Take her a nice present, like some jewelry or chocolate.”
“How about something with a bit more of an impact?”
53
Amy
“Next time,” I said as I stood outside of the courtyard, “when I tempt fate, please tell me to just shut the eff up.”
After drowning my sorrows with pizza, expensive champagne, and chocolate-and-raspberry cake, I had fallen asleep on the couch and woken up with a raging hangover. I would have just stayed at the office, but I really needed to water my plants.
Ivy had come with me downtown to my apartment because she was worried no one would be able to find me on account of my phone still not having any service.
“Is this even legal?” she asked as we stood in front of the boarded-up entrance to the courtyard.
One of the side doors to the building opened, and the landlord stepped out, whistling. Baxter bared his teeth at the man.
“Top of the morning, ladies!” he said.
“You can’t just board up my apartment!” I yelled at him.
He grinned maniacally at me. “As of this morning, I am officially no longer the owner of this property. It has been sold, and I let the new owners know about many structural problems to the building. They promptly had people down here, closing off the areas that could kill someone. You’re out of luck, sweetheart. Guess you and that fat little pony had better get a hotel.”
“Stupid Tatiana!” I kicked the plywood and almost broke my toe. “Why does this keep happening to me?” I complained, rubbing my foot. “My plants are in there. And all my stuff.”
“Let’s go back to the office and regroup,” Ivy suggested, using the soothing voice she used for brides who were about to lose it and go mega-bridezilla on her.
I started crying. “I’m not crazy!” I blubbered.
“I know.”
“You’re acting like I’m crazy.”
“You’re hungover,” Ivy said, petting my hair.
“I miss Sebastian!” I cried. “And my old life.”
“Maybe this is a good thing,” Ivy stated. “Lessons were learned, and we can all make some changes.”
She guided me out of the underpass onto the sidewalk. I blinked in the sunlight. Baxter took an immediate right and started trotting in the direction of the pretzel cart.
“We don’t have any money for pretzels! Come back!” I yelled at the horse.
“Actually, a pretzel sounds amazing,” Ivy said. “Don’t worry. It’s my treat.”
“They have really good cheese sauce,” I told her. “Ahmed makes it himself along with his own mustard. He has a sweet one and a spicy one. I keep telling him to open a permanent shop.”
Baxter was already at the cart, accepting a pretzel from a child standing there. I ran—well, did a slow jog up to the horse.
“He’s been fed,” I said as I huffed. I really needed to start exercising. “He just likes snacks.”
