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No Pinterest board can rival this.
Cassie rests her sunglasses on the crown of her head.
Ciara and I follow her cue.
Cassie’s green eyes meet mine. “Are you going to post a yacht tour on your YouTube channel?” she asks me.
Cassie and I are full-time YouTubers.
Her DIY channels have made her a multimillionaire. She didn’t purchase the app in the end. The business consultant we hired advised against it. We went into business together for three months, but it just wasn’t for me. I don’t have Cassie’s passion for these types of décor projects. Lost—again—I wasn’t sure what to do with myself until she suggested I become the face of luxury real estate in New York. Most of the YouTubers doing those tours are men. After consulting with Bryce, I shot my first video—okay, it took me like fifty takes, but the end result was ah-mazing. My real estate license and my fiancé’s connections opened a lot of doors for me—literally. My YouTube channel Luxury Zip Code focuses on luxury home tours in Manhattan. Luxury Boroughs focuses on the four other boroughs. If you can’t afford to live in a fifty-million-dollar home, my channels give you a taste of what it would be like. After my first business debacle, I didn’t expect this second venture to explode as fast as it did.
The worst event in my life, turned into the most amazing ones. Without asshole Brad, I would’ve never met Cassie or Bryce, and I would never be on my way to becoming a YouTube multimillionaire.
“No,” I shake my head. “This is for close friends only.”
“The video would go viral, though,” Cassie says.
“True,” I say. “There are going to be too many high-profile people here today. I don’t want to infringe on their privacy.”
“I get it,” Cassie says. “But talk about the life of the rich and famous close and personal.”
“What she said,” Ciara agrees. “Any socialite or trust fund baby can secure the best wedding venues in Manhattan, but how many people can claim a bona fide Contessa volunteered to not only host your wedding, but take care of every last detail with the help of a wedding planner she hired—and your involvement, of course.”
Bryce and I are getting married on Mariella’s yacht in the Greek islands. The Contessa spared no expense for my dream wedding, stating, Bryce is the son she never had. From Greece, we’ll sail for three days to the Amalfi Coast. We’ll bid goodbye to my family and friends, and we’ll embark on our Italian honeymoon.
My whole family is here.
Mariella also invited a group of friends—code word for very important people—who know Bryce well.
I had to twist my fiancé’s arm to invite his brother and ex-wife. They’re a no-show. Sibyl gets seasick, and three days on a boat with three young kids might be a nightmare she’d never recover from. Her words. Not mine.
Bryce and Liam aren’t hanging out or anything like that, but my soon-to-be husband made the effort to meet his niece and nephews.
“I just had to show up with my dress!” I say.
“Your designer dress purchased in Milan because your friend—the Contessa—is well connected,” Ciara corrects.
“And let’s not forget the princess tiara––with real diamonds, as opposed to the ones made with cubic zirconia––her fiancé bought for her while they were in London at a chic secondhand boutique on New Bond Street,” Cassie says.
“I still have to pinch myself–– Ouch!”
Just because she loves to goad me, Ciara pinches me.
Cassie giggles.
“I want to make sure your eyes are wide open so you don’t miss a second of this epic day.”
I can’t be pissed off at my baby sister. She’s right. I want to commit to memory every millisecond of this unforgettable day.
So much has changed in the last eight months, I still struggle to wrap my head around all the amazing things that have transpired in my life, leading to this day.
My big day.
“Even with a lobotomy, there are zero chances I’ll ever forget this day,” I say.
Ciara takes me into her arms. “Cinderella ain’t got nothing on you, sis.”
“No, she doesn’t,” Cassie says.
