“Who died?” I joke, knowing that Hudson’s mom isn’t the kind of woman to miscount.
“We were supposed to be sitting with Grant’s great-aunt and uncle, but I think they bailed after the boat ride. No one’s seen them on the property since,” Vanessa says, sliding a plate over to me.
“Their loss is my gain,” I say, reaching for the roll on the plate, tearing off a piece to pop in my mouth. It’s delicious, warm, and buttery, and it melts in my mouth. “I’m absolutely famished.”
“Multiple orgasms will do that to a person,” Vanessa jabs, and I almost choke on my roll. “What? You were gone for like thirty minutes, and your lips have that extra, just-got-fucked pout about them. So, unless you snuck out for a quick Botox session, I’m assuming you ran off with Hudson?”
Instinctively I bring my hand to my face. “Oh God? Do they?”
Vanessa chuckles as the door opens, Hudson making his way into the room, his cheeks flushed and the green of his irises flickering like gemstones as his eyes cut through the crowd to find me. There’s a subtle smirk on his face, similar to those shared between children sneaking ice cream for dinner, as he takes his place at the top table.
Taking another bite of my roll, I feel my phone vibrate in my bag. I sneak a glance at Hudson, wondering if he’s sending me dirtytexts from across the room, but the anticipation burning in my belly is snuffed out when I read the notification.
Your review has been removed by poster.
I read the message again, stunned by the words on the screen.
Your review has been removed by poster.
Removed by poster. That would mean ... Phoebe.
My stomach tightens as I grip the phone, opening a browser and searching for my business name. The sinking two-point-five rating has been replaced by a perfect five stars.
I wait for the joy, elation, peace, that I thought would come, but all I feel is hollow. My phone buzzes again, messages and emails coming in, but there’s one that stands out among the rest.
New Message from Planning by Phoebe
My finger hovers over the notification.
What could she possibly have to say to me after all this time?
Will this be a heartfelt apology? A plea for forgiveness? And if so, do I even want to hear it?
I’m still deciding what I want to do when I hear a shrill voice behind me say, “What do you think you’re doing?”
Susan is glaring down at me, making me feel like a student who got caught checking her phone during class. How could Hudson be a product of this uptight, overly judgmental woman?
“Typically, people don’t want photos of them eating,” I explain, putting my phone away.
“And so what? You think you can just take a break? I’m paying you to do a job, I expect you to do it.”
“Mom,” Hudson says, voice stern as he rushes up beside me. There’s fire behind his eyes and I know he’s ready to defend me, but I shake my head, telling him to stand down.
His lips tighten into a scowl.
“Hudson, go stand with your stepfather. I’m going to get my family photos.”
Quickly, I gather my camera, taking a few test shots as Susan places everyone against the far wall, but I can’t focus on placement or lighting choices—all I can think about is Phoebe.
“Are we all here?” I ask, bringing the viewfinder to my face.
“One second.” Susan holds a finger up towards me. “Katherine. Come join us. You’ll be family soon enough if this one knows what’s good for him.”
It’s one thing to hear how much Hudson’s mother adores Katherine, but to see it in person makes me feel inadequate. She’s effortlessly chic, with a clean girl aesthetic that makes her seem as if she’s stepped off a page ofInStyle. As she slips in beside him, even though Hudson’s hands stay at his side—his body is stiff, a fake smile plastered on his face—I can’t stop wondering what’s going to happen when we start dating for real. How will he explain our relationship to his family, who are under the impression that he and Katherine are so in love they’re on their way to getting engaged? Will they think I stole him from her? Will they judge me as harshly as Phoebe’s friends did?
Fear and anxiety prickle my skin, but my body goes on autopilot, snapping photos as Susan reorients the group, removing one person and adding another. Click. Flash. Move. I react accordingly, checking the LCD screen for proper lighting but not really looking at the image.
Without that review standing in my way I can go back to my regular life, I can go back to weddings, to my business, to stability.
