Page 24 of Married to the Devil

Marnie puts a hand on my knee. “Not even a little.”

I squirm, not sure I agree, but unable to push. Marnie’s not in a good place right now. The divorce has her deep in a men are scum phase and I doubt anything I say can help.

But seeing Rafe… hearing Hattie… it has me thinking.

Why can’t he be in her life?

Even only sometimes? Just so she knows it was my choice to raise her on my own.

For years, I’ve told her that her father lives somewhere far away and that he’s not in our family. She’s been too young to really understand, but that’s changing.

He was here. He clearly knows she exists now…

God, this is so confusing.

“Maybe you’re right,” I say at last, taking a long drink to calm my nerves. “It’s better this way. Hattie will be fine.”

“Damn right. I’ll love that little beast more than any asshole man ever could. And if her dad tries to get anywhere near her—“ Marnie mimes scissors with her fingers. “I’ll cut his tiny dick right off.”

I smile to myself. If she only knew. “Thanks, Marn. That actually makes me feel better.”

“Damn right it does. Now, how about you tell me more about this wedding you’re planning and let’s not think about men for a while?”

“Sounds good to me.”

8

JUNE

Ilose myself in work.

It’s easy, tumbling headlong into planning a wedding. I love the thrill of bringing a bunch of disparate pieces together, building moodboards and image binders, growing a unique aesthetic out of nothing. It’s my favorite part, the way the wedding looks and feels.

Nothing’s easier than a cookie-cutter ceremony. But that’s why people hire us: I go above and beyond to make it unique. Even when the bride and groom have no idea what they want, I find ways to tease it out, until I make the space come alive.

I don’t have any direction this time.

Left on my own, I build a wedding I think is perfect.

It’s not easy. Problems arise. Money gets spent. More money gets wasted. Beth looks like a zombie every morning at our prep meeting. We agree never, ever to do this again as we push forward.

One week turns to six days turns to five then four.

Marnie keeps the house together. She cooks and cleans. She has whispered, cursing, angry conversations with her lawyer in the basement.

Hattie doesn’t ask about her father again.

“Showtime,” Beth says on the evening before the event. We lucked out and the mansion owners agreed to let us get prepped earlier—for a massive fee, of course. Normally, we’d do this all the morning of, but because of the timeline issues, we didn’t hire outside help.

Flowers, ribbons, streamers, decorations. So many decorations. The mansion itself is filled with charm and beauty but I bring it out, emphasizing the 1920s. It’s a period-piece come to life. Like a real robber baron’s party.

We work our asses off. Ten rolls around and we’re not close to finished, but Beth decides to call it. “Meet here at six tomorrow?”

“Sounds good. Well, not good, but you know.”

“Get some sleep.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage a solid five hours.”