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“You’re a pig, Enzo,” the cousin whose name I think was Isabel said. I could see little drops of spit come out of her mouth in the stage lights behind her.
“I’m just having a little fun,” he said.
“While your girlfriend is back at home with no idea,” Isabel said.
I sucked in a breath. A girlfriend?
“We have an understanding,” he said.
“Who? You and Monica? Or you and whatever her name is that you’ve been toying around with?”
“Mila’s her name. And she knows all about Monica. It’s just something to pass the time. We’re on the same page.”
“Actually, I don’t know anything about Monica,” I said, coming out from behind the pillar, my hands on my hips.
Lorenzo cussed under his breath.
“Enzo,” Isabel said, pushing him on the shoulder. “You’re really something else.”
“I thought I told you,” Lorenzo said, giving me a quick lift of his shoulders like it was no big deal.
I felt like the biggest idiot. To think I’d been hoping for some kind of future with this guy. How could I be so stupid?
Shocked and hurt, I turned away from Lorenzo and his cousin, covering my face from the sting of tears that had formed in my eyes, and in my hasty getaway, I walked straight into Harper and Oliver’s beautiful cake. Like right smack-dab into it. The cake was on a grand stand, so it didn’t fall over right away. When I pulled back, there was a perfectly shaped indentation of my torso and head right in the center of it, the stand wobbling in my wake.
And then it fell over. Cake and icing splattering on anyone within a ten-foot radius. This included the bride and groom.
Someone screamed, but I couldn’t see who. Maybe it was Isabel, since she was the closest. I was covered in frosting and cake, from my head to my toes.
“My cake!” yelled Mr. Walsh, his voice loud enough to be heard over the band playing “Uptown Funk” by Bruno Mars.
Much later, Isabel outed Lorenzo to Harper, telling her what he’d done, so he was given some of the blame for the mishap and it wasn’t solely on me. But I think, to this day, her dad credits me.
Last I heard from Harper, Lorenzo was on divorce number two. I felt quite smug when she told me this, and simultaneously grateful for small favors. Even if those favors came at the cost of Harper’s wedding cake.
Mila
HAVE YOU EVER MADE A fool of yourself in front of someone and then had to take a flight to Hawaii with them three days later?
Let me tell you something—I don’t recommend it.
I don’t know what got into me on Saturday night. I’d love to blame it on alcohol, but I’d only had maybe two drinks. I’d claim temporary insanity, but I was fully in my right mind. Well, sort of.
Grayson and I nearly kissed. I think. I’m pretty sure, actually. And I don’t know if he leaned in first or if it was me, but I think it might have been me. He’d made some comment about me being a good friend to Nadia, and then, like in a movie, a quick flashback of all the weddings I’d ruined came into my mind and I kept thinking,What kind of friend am I to put Nadia in this position? To jinx her wedding? How did I agree to this?
Then, when I’d told him I was worried, he’d pulled me in toward him, and I don’t know … it felt sort of like I was safe with him. Like he could see me—reallysee me. That’s when my brain sort of left the building and my hormones took over, because all I could think about after that was his lips. How soft they looked, how I’d like to run my tongue over the bottom one, and then he leaned toward me like he was thinking the same thing and then I leaned in too. We were so close, I honestly thought it was going to happen before Grayson pulled away. Well, it was more like a jump-scare thing on his part.
Thank goodness he did pull away. This is what I keep trying to tell myself, but really, I feel kind of rejected. Which is dumb because he’s my boss, and that whole thing is complicated—something I know firsthand.
The way he left, though—without saying goodbye—that hurt a little.
We definitely shouldn’t have kissed. It was for the best. I have a boss thing, and he’s my boss. It’s best if we keep everything professional between us. I’m just going to have to keep reminding myself of this. I’ll do that while I also try to play it off like it never happened. I’ve thought about it since Saturday night and decided it’s the best way to handle the situation.
My plan, which I thought about all day Sunday (I was even going to ask Everett for advice at dinner but then thought better of it since he never lets me live this stuff down) was to walk into work on Monday, my head held high, looking like the confident woman I am—even though I’ll be faking that part—and act like Saturday was never a thing. I’m excellent at compartmentalization, so I will just put that night in a box in my head and set it toward the back to rot with the other boxes I’ve also been avoiding, like the one filled with everything involving Monty. I never want to open that box again.
But I didn’t see Grayson all day. He was in and out of meetings, and so was I, both busy prepping everyone for the rest of the week. I’ve left Britain in charge, so my people are in good hands. Plus, this is a work trip and I’ll be fully accessible, except for maybe during the flight (you can never count on the Wi-Fi working) and the four-hour time difference. And I guess the wedding on Friday. I doubt Nadia would want me working during her big day.
The only communication I had with Grayson yesterday was a quick message from him over Slack about meeting me at the airport this morning.
