“She’s coming tomorrow. You’ll meet her then.”
“Re-meet her,” Bri clarified.
“Of course. I’ll be right back, okay? I need to find Jonathan.”
But instead of heading back into the crowd, Marigold snuck into the cottage through the side door. Contrary to what everyone thought, she wasn’t a natural extrovert, and needed time to recharge. She secretly worried that Jonathan sometimes felt a bit cheated, resenting the fact that the rest of the world got the glamorous life of the party while he got the makeup-free couch potato.
“There you are!” Lulu emerged from the kitchen, beaming. “Did you see Paula? She’s been looking for you. I can’t believe she and Karen came all this way. You know how hard it is for them to travel.”
“Not yet. I just needed a little break. I’ll find her in a sec.”
Lulu looked out at the lawn, teeming with friends, family, and neighbors. “I’m sorry if this is all… a bit much for you. I think we might’ve gone overboard with the guest list. It was just such a wonderful opportunity to bring everyone together. But this weekend is supposed to be about you and Jonathan, and I’m so sorry if it’s not the wedding you wanted.”
“Mom, stop! This isexactlywhat I wanted, okay? I promise.” It was true, in a way. After everything she’d been through, her mother deserved one perfect weekend. “I’m going upstairs tolook for Jonathan’s present. If anyone’s looking for me, tell them I’ll be right back.”
“Do you want me to help you look?”
“I’m fine. You go have fun.”
Marigold headed back upstairs, as Natalie’s words echoed in her head.You don’t need to try this hard.
But that was ridiculous—as Bill liked to say, “Nothing that comes easy is worth having.” (Unless he was imitating one of his insufferable business partners when he said that? All of Bill’s impressions sounded the same, so it was sometimes hard to tell.) She’d struck gold when she’d found Jonathan, and he made her want to become the best version of herself. Was that so terrible? Wasn’t it a small price to pay to build the perfect life with the man of her dreams?
CHAPTER THREEOlivia
As she made her way to the bar, Olivia smoothed her sleek bob, more out of habit than necessity. She’d convinced Philippe to open the salon early so she could squeeze in an appointment before her flight, and his handiwork could withstand even the most egregious summer humidity. That’s why she shelled out over two hundred dollars per blowout, more than she could really afford even on a corporate lawyer’s salary. In order to justify triweekly visits, she’d have to switch from soul-crushing work to something that required theabsenceof a soul, like defending billionaire drug lords or members of the royal family accused of sex trafficking.
But at the moment, she didn’t feel an ounce of guilt; it was essential that she look her very best tonight. Yes, her prettier,youngersister was getting married before her, but no one would dare look at Olivia with pity tonight. Not in this dress. Not with this hair. Not with her name in bold onNew Yorkmagazine’s list of the most powerful lawyers under thirty-five. Yet that wasn’tthe real reason Olivia had invested nearly five thousand dollars in outfits for this weekend. That reason was standing by the bar in an impeccably tailored navy suit, accepting a glass of scotch from the bartender.
Olivia had harbored a secret crush on Andrew, Bill’s younger colleague and protégé, for years but had never made a move. She wasn’t afraid of going after what she wanted, or being seen as too aggressive, but Andrew was a handsome Harvard MBA who dated people like that Swedish princess who produced Oscar-winning documentaries. Olivia was no slouch, but Andrew was out of her league. At least, that’s what she’d thought until the Met Apollo Circle gala two weeks earlier. Andrew had been there solo—the first time she’d seen him at an event without a date—and he’d ignored the bevy of beautiful socialites circling him like fruit flies and spent all night talking to Olivia. At first, she’d assumed he was just being nice to his boss’s stepdaughter, but after three drinks and a conspicuous amount of knee touching, she’d stopped tamping down the excitement fizzing up from her stomach. He’d even walked her home and lingered by the door. The tension had been both agonizing and delicious, and just when Olivia felt positive that Andrew was going to kiss her, his phone had buzzed. “Sorry,” he’d said with a sigh. “I have to take this. But maybe we can pick up where we left off in Maine?”
Olivia had nodded. Or maybe she’d said sure. All she could really remember was the electric feel of his fingers as he’d touched her arm in farewell. She’d spent the next few days in a daze, succumbing to the kind of daydreams she hadn’t indulged in since she’d been a teenager. Slow dancing with Andrew at the wedding. Watching him smile with pride duringher witty, heartfelt toast. Seeing the look on her mother’s face when Lulu realized that this wasn’t just a weekend fling—that something real was brewing, and that she just might get to see Olivia happy and settled after all.
And now the moment was finally upon her. She’d even spent an hour in Central Park last week practicing walking on grass in her new heels to ensure that she didn’t stumble when she made her approach. The cottage had never looked more beautiful. Strings of fairy lights hung from the trees, twinkling like fireflies, while hurricane candles glowed on the dozens of tables that’d been set up on the lawn for the dinner. A jazz trio played off to the side, filling the night air with music that seemed to keep time with the sound of the waves lapping against the rocks. She was going to remember this evening for the rest of her life.
Andrew turned and caught her eye at just the right moment, when she was close enough to greet with a knowing, secret smile, but still too far away to say anything. He handed her a glass of champagne that he’d seemingly conjured out of thin air, then stepped back to survey her. “Wow,” he said, breaking into a grin. “You look amazing.”
“You don’t look too shabby either.” She tugged on the sleeve of his suit. “How’d you resist the siren call of baby-blue seersucker?”
“There’s so much about me that’s insufferable already. I can’t add seersucker to the mix.”
“That’s true. You already tell people you went to school ‘outside of Boston.’?”
“That’s slander! I’dneversay that.”
“I’ve heard you!”
“You must’ve imagined it.”
“At Bill’s birthday this spring. We were talking to Jimmy’s wife and you said that you had a ‘fondness’ for the Red Sox because you went to school outside of Boston.”
“That doesn’t countat all. It’s only douchey when someone asks, ‘So, where’d you go to school?’ And instead of just saying Harvard, you go, ‘Outside of Boston.’ This was a completely different context.”
“I’m not sure your reasoning would hold up in court,” Olivia teased.
“Hold on. Let me consult with my counsel.” Andrew reached over to tap the tanned, slender arm of the women standing to his right. She turned and flashed a blindingly white smile. A smile Olivia knew from somewhere…
“Emerson, this is Olivia. Olivia, Emerson.”
