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The simple reminder that Zachary Sun would no longer need a reason for me was enough to send a wave of despair spiraling through me.
“Oh, Eileen.” Constance frowned at the silent—and shocking—act of resistance but accepted a stack of pamphlets from her future daughter-in-law. “There’s such a thing as a heart too pure. Unsavory people will take advantage of it.”
I caught her underlying meaning.
She must’ve seen me in the worst way possible.
Could I blame her? I’d barged into her son’s life, broken into his home, tried to steal from him, and traded orgasms with him in exchange for legal help and a boatload of money.
Hardly a beacon of altruism.
All the while, I vowed to follow through on my lifelong promise to never engage in a relationship. To never become Dad and Vera.
Constance held the booklet to the light. “Isn’t this venue lovely?”
It took me a moment to realize she’d spoken to me. I couldn’t help it. Even though I knew it would hurt, I glanced at the photo.
The Botanica.
A lush haven of soaring trees, hundreds of thousands of rare flowers, and hand-carved outdoor furnishings. It hit like a bullet to the gut.
What is wrong with you, Fae? Weddings make you cringe. You’ve always called them a waste of a down payment.
“Stunning,” I agreed, meaning it. With the fake smile still plastered on my face, I deposited the remaining brochures onto the table and offered a little bow, bending my knees with flourish. “How else may I be of service to you, Mrs. Sun?”
It worked.
Constance looked completely devastated by my good mood. “Actually… Eileen, darling, why don’t you show Miss Ballantine the wedding gowns that are our frontrunners? I’m sure she’ll have some interesting input.”
Eileen’s eyes widened. She looked horrified by the idea.
I couldn’t blame her.
I no longer bothered wearing my maid uniform, so my fashion style—or lack thereof—was evident to the naked eye. I wore black leggings paired with a fuzzy green and yellow sweater.
“I’m sure Miss Ballantine has things to do with her time…” Eileen trailed off.
Time wasn’t my problem. The thought that I wanted to curl into a ball and cry until I died of dehydration was.
Because choosing a wedding dress for Zach’s bride was the height of angst for me. I had a literal physical reaction to it. Like scorpions were crawling all over my skin.
But again, I couldn’t let Constance win. “I’d love to take a look.”
With a sigh, Eileen clasped a stack of glossy brochures tabbed with Post-it notes, sifting through three of them until she flipped to the right pages.
She fanned the options before me. Classic A-line dresses with extensive tulle and enough lace to open a French bordel.
Zach would absolutely hate them.
He enjoyed contemporary, artsy things. Grecian silk. Pleated cuts. Maybe something diamond-embellished.
It frightened me that I knew his likes and dislikes so well.
I swallowed down a desperate scream, shrugging as I tapped one of the pictures. They all looked the same to me, anyway. “This one is gorgeous.”
Eileen brightened. “This one is my favorite.”
For a moment, I pitied her.
