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“I’m here because you’re my friend.”
Her eyes fill with tears, and I’ve already known her long enough to know that doesn’t happen very often.
“Thank you,” she says simply.
She sits up straighter. She moves some papers from one side of her desk to the other. “Tobias canceled,” she says.
“I figured.”
“There are seventy-two hours till the wedding,” she says. “Or—until the moment formerly known as a wedding. We probably have less than twenty-four hours before Weggers sees the Tobuary news.”
I’d known this was coming, but hearing it laid out that starkly makes my stomach hurt. Because it’s pretty obvious what needs to happen. And I need to be the one to say it.
I take a deep breath.
“If you need me to,” I tell Hanna, “I’ll marry Shane.”
41
Ivy
Hanna texts Shane, and when he doesn’t respond right away, she calls him and leaves a voicemail.
“January cheated,” she says bluntly. “Their wedding’s off again. I need you to come back here. I need you to marry Ivy.”
She looks up at me, then away.
“I’m sorry, Shane. I know this is—complicated. But I need you.”
If her tears are rare, I’m guessing a straight-out ask for help is even rarer.
And I’m also guessing there’s no way Shane will turn it down, no matter how uncomfortable he is.
Obviously that’s what we want, and yet the thought makes my chest so tight I can barely breathe. Less than seventy-two hours from now, I’m going to stand across from the man who broke my heart and say I do. It will be the hardest acting job I’ve ever done—and the most painful by far. And he’ll be looking into my eyes the whole time, so even if the rest of the world believes my brave face?
I’m pretty sure he’ll know the truth.
Sonya keeps asking me if I’m sure, and I keep saying yes. Because there’s too much at stake here to let my hurt feelings rule the day. I knew what I was getting myself into from the very beginning. Shane never lied to me about what he was capable of. If I let myself believe otherwise, it’s because I failed to learn the lesson Anthony should have taught me once and for all.
“You should go home,” Hanna says.
“I want to help. There must be vendor calls to make. We have to reinstitute Plan A. Or Plan B. Whatever the hell I am.”
I almost laugh because if you take the broken heart out of the equation, it’s pretty funny. But I’m not there.
Honestly, I’m not sure I’ll ever be there.
Sonya touches my arm. “We can do all that in the morning. Go home, grab something to eat, get some sleep, and meet us back here tomorrow morning. By then Shane will be here, and we can figure this out.”
I know I won’t be able to eat, and I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to sleep, but I agree to meet them back at Hott Springs tomorrow morning around ten to dive into the thorny details of tweaking a wedding that’s only seventy-two hours out.
Then I do as instructed. Or well, mostly. I go home. I take a shower. I stand in front of the refrigerator and stare into it, my stomach clenching.
And then I lie in bed for a long, long time before fitful sleep comes for me.
In the morning, I get up, shower, and spend way too long contemplating my clothing options.
Do I dress to make him regret all his decisions?
