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"Umm, Lila... Not sure I’m the person you should be talking to about this."
"You aretheperson I should be talking to about this," she retorts.
"How so?" I narrow my gaze on her.
"My so-called 'friends’" —she makes air quotes with her fingers— "are too overwhelmed by my money and my father’s status to tell me what they really think. As for my family?" She cuts her palm through the air. "They don’t care about my happiness. They simply want the family’s status to be maintained. And Liam is a catch, from that point of view."
"He’s a catch from any point of view." I look away.
"See? You couldn’t even meet my gaze when you said it." She juts out her chin.
I raise my hands. "Just trying to tell you what everyone thinks of him."
"But that’s not what you think of him."
"Umm, no?" I rub the back of my neck. "But my opinion really isn’t important here."
"On the contrary..." She reaches over and grips my arm. "Your opinion is what matters most. Considering, you’re the only one who doesn’t give a damn about my wealth or status."
"Not true—the reason this wedding is so important to me is because of your wealth and status."
"That’s the actual event—" She flips her hair over her head. "But when it comes to me, although I’ve known you for a relatively short time, you’re the only one among all of my friends and family who really sees me."
Her lips turn downward. So does my heart. Hell and damnation. Why do I have to be so outspoken with my opinions? Why can’t I have a filter and be discerning about what thoughts I choose to air and to whom?
"Also, you were the only one who was truthful when I asked your opinion about that truly horrendous wedding dress."
"It was horrible." I wince.
"Terrible." She shudders. "And the most expensive of the lot. Just because it was a designer who would have immediately had me trending on social media, is no reason to wear a dress that makes me look like an upside-down cake."
"Actually, a Victorian sponge cake," I offer.
"Ugh!" She snatches up her still full tequila glass. “Also, Lila and Liam. What would our wedding hashtag sound like? #lilum?” She makes a face.
“You do have a point there,” I admit.
"Which is why I really need your opinion on this. And I honestly don’t want you to hold back. This is my life we’re talking about, after all."
I know. And I like Lila. For all her moneyed upbringing, she's surprisingly down-to-earth, intelligent, and shares the same quirky sense of humor I have. Which is why we hit it off so quickly. Which is why I know I don’t have any choice but to tell her the truth.
She tosses back her alcohol without even blinking, then slams it upside down on the table. "Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been going out of your way to avoid him."
"I haven’t been avoiding him—"
"You made sure your assistant was the one to oversee the last wedding rehearsal."
"Only because I was taking care of the wedding cake, and the wedding cake is very important."
"You told me you would be there. Then, when I messaged you to say Liam was turning up for the rehearsal, you sent your assistant instead—without giving me a warning."
I grimace. This is true. But the reason I didn’t go is not that Liam was going to be there. At least, not completely. Okay, I m-a-y be stretching the truth here. I wasn’t looking forward to seeing his sourpuss face, so yeah, maybe I decided to send my assistant instead.
My phone alarm buzzes. Shit, I need to take my supplements. It’s okay to wash them down with alcohol, right? I’m sure it is. And if not, too bad. I’d better take them now while I still remember. I slide the bottle from my bag, shake out two of the pills, and gulp them down with the beer.
"Uh, what are you taking?" Lila’s forehead crinkles.
"Vitamins, I forgot to take them earlier."
