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So, here we are on Monday as I get my shit together. I stop by the office and drop off bins and start cleaning and itemizing. Jillian and I check in with the delivery drivers and one of our assistants to make sure all the props were placed back in the storage unit. Jillian has to take Ainsley to a doctor’s appointment, and I’m set to meet Will at a restaurant in Greenwood Village at noon.
It’s a cold, crisp morning, yet the sun pours down, warming the day. I have my coat on, yet it’s open, and I walk down the cobblestone sidewalks to the restaurant. I’m a few minutes early. My phone is in my hand, and I’m checking the weather for the rest of the week when I hear an angry squeal. It’s high-pitched, surprised, and very close. Looking up, I come face-to-face with a woman I haven’t thought about in a while.
Allison Lalayne.
Yes, the woman who Will was engaged to when we first kissed is standing on the sidewalk, glaring at me with hardened brown eyes and a scowl on her face that is anything but the happy bride turned sad ex-bride I met weeks ago.
“Hey,” I say to her and start to walk faster because the look on her face is making my heart speed up in an uncomfortable way.
“You bitch!” Her words have me halting my feet and clenching my eyes and ears closed.
I turn around very slowly and face her. Allison is wearing a pastel-blue peacoat. It’s a sweet-looking color for a very irate-looking woman. There’s a large iced coffee in her hand that she’s clenching as if it were a sword.
“Excuse me?” I say even though I heard her. Loud and clear.
Her face softens just a touch before settling back to her pissed off pout. She takes a step forward. “I’ve thought what I would say to you, and now, here you are, and all I want to say is … you’re a home-wrecker!”
“Allison, please understand—”
“I haven’t been able to look at my social media because everything makes me so sad, especially your posts because you were supposed to be my wedding designer. Then, I started feeling more like myself, so I went on and saw your post from a wedding you did. You madeAMidsummer Night’s Dreamevent. There was a video, and … I don’t understand. Why was Will with you at that wedding?”
My social media.
Why was I an idiot who didn’t think she’d see it? I mentally berate myself as I hold up my hands to explain. “My assistant was sick, and he offered to help.”
Allison looks down at her heels and shakes her head. Her eyes flicker, like there’re a million thoughts running through her head. “My friends saw you with him at a table at Lone Tavern. They said he was having drinks with a woman, and they sent me a picture of you two together. I didn’t want to believe it was you, but then I saw Instagram, and he was withyou. Will called off the wedding after our brunch. It was you. You stole my fiancé!”
“That’s not correct.”
“You two met, and he left me. You saw him at brunch and wanted him, which is why you started talking about how horrible marriage was. You wanted him to break up with me. When he did, you swooped in and started hanging out with him.”
My ears boil red as steam pours out of them. “That’s not how it happened at all.”
“You stole my fiancé!”
“It was just drinks at the bar!” I defend. “And, yes, fine, I might have kissed him first, but that was before I knew he was engaged. He didn’t know I was going to kiss him, and he pushed me away. It was a shove really and a very embarrassing one for me. The next day, we saw each other at brunch, and I was shocked and mortified, and the entire situation was shit, especially when he ran into me at Target, but I sent him away. Then, I was in his cell, and we made a truce, and it was never meant to be anything but a simple kind of friendship.”
Now, it’s more. So much more.
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I instantly regret them. I always knew my diarrhea of the mouth would outdo me. Today is definitely the day. Stupid mouth.
“Allison, this is a conversation for you and Will. I shouldn’t be involved in any of this.”
I start to move, but she keeps following me down the sidewalk. I ignore the curious glances of passersby. The virtual scarlet letter on my back, blaring in neon red for all to see. Seriously, it’s like a bad Demi Moore movie out here.
“You’re too old. He’ll never settle down with you.”
“You’re right.” I lift my hand in agreement.She’s right. He could go for a much younger girl with boobs that don’t sag.
“You’re not even pretty.”
“I’m haggard.”Okay, so I was feeling pretty this morning but I’m not about to argue with her about it.
“Your ass is huge.”
“Way too fucking big.”Geez, she’s really hitting below the belt, no pun intended.
“Don’t you have kids? I’ve seen them on your Instagram. Your daughter never smiles and your son is a brat. Will would never be able to stand them.”
