“Just drop it. I need more coffee,” I say, walking off.
He doesn’t follow. Maybe he thinks the wedding will fix everything. He probably thinks I’ll go back to being compliant, accommodating Sydney. Or he’s already calculating his next move.
Sorry, Mason. Your reckoning is coming. Wedding or not.
Ivy stands at the center of the kitchen, ethereal in her robe. The perfect picture of a bride about to step into the life she’s meticulously planned. She leans against the counter, a satisfied curve to her lips.
“Morning, Syd.”
“Good morning, Ivy.” I keep my head down and go straight for the coffee pot.
“Lovely day for a wedding, isn’t it?”
My hands shake as I pour coffee into my mug. I blink back the tears I’ve been holding in since James walked out of the room.Oh God. Is he really going to marry her? Why hasn’t he called it off yet?
Before Ivy can dig the dagger in any further, the front door opens, and Darrell and Vera enter, carrying a large white box.
“Good morning,” Vera calls cheerfully. “We brought pastries.”
Footsteps thunder across the floor, and Anna barrels into me, wrapping around my legs. Jules scans the room, trying to piece together what she walked into. I shrug. I wish I knew. Margaret follows, greets Vera and Darrell, then hugs Ivy.
Jules strides to the speaker and clicks it on, breaking the quiet like a raised eyebrow.
“Good morning, wedding people! Thought I’d crank the vibe up to ‘It’s wedding day.’ You’re welcome.” She smirks as the lyrics kick in.
Usher croons about losing control, being swept up in someone. Someone who’s usually in control but suddenly finds themselves entangled beyond reason. She’s the best and the worst.
Thanks for that, Jules.
While she steals everyone’s attention with her over-the-top dance moves, Vera drifts over to me. She leans in, her voice low. “Goalong with this.”
I blink, but she’s already crossing the room, slipping into conversation with Margaret and Ivy. I stand there, confused as I watch her continue chatting. She stops, hand half raised mid-conversation, then clutches her chest, her breath catching.
“Oh… my…” Vera whispers before crumpling to the ground.
“What’s wrong?” Margaret drops beside her.
“My chest… it’s… so tight,” Vera gasps. “I… I can’t breathe.”
Jules and Tom rush forward, instincts kicking in. Their voices are calm but urgent. “What are you feeling? Is it radiating down your arm? Can you breathe? Mom, aspirin now!”
Margaret’s already dialing 911 as she ransacks the cabinets.
At the center of the kitchen, Ivy stands frozen. She watches the action taking place in front of her with a detached calm. There’s no worry or urgency in her eyes, only the fading of her smile.
Vera closes her eyes. “I don’t know… it’s so tight…”
Through the blur of movement, through the crowd pressing in around her, she darts a look right at me:Go along with it.I blink, stunned, and in complete admiration.
She’s faking this whole thing.
My own acting skills kick in. “Darrell, call James. He’ll want to meet you at the hospital.”
The corner of his mouth twitches before reining it in and calling James. “Your mom collapsed. We’ve called an ambulance. I’ll text you when we’re on the way.” A beat—James must say something. “Yes, I know. I’ll tell her.”
Darrell kneels beside Vera, still clutching her chest on the kitchen floor like she’s halfway to the pearly gates, and whispers something I can’t hear. Vera gives the faintest nod.
Oh my God. This is happening.
