Page 12 of Forget Me

4

MIMI

By the timethe photographer finished with us bridesmaids, my cheeks ached from the rigid smile I’d pasted on my face.

Bree and Josh, who had to stay behind for even more pictures, looked just as fresh as they had when they saw each other for the first time this afternoon, when he peeked under her veil and they couldn’t stop laughing. Now they gazed into each other’s eyes, sharing secrets while the shutter snapped. Their happiness was indecent, really.

Not that I was jealous.

I had a great job and an even better opportunity with the foundation if I could impress Larissa with my work on the gala. I wished she could see Bree’s wedding reception at the Conservatory of Flowers. Bree and Josh had wanted something in an outdoor garden, but it would be too cold at their late-December wedding. So I’d suggested the conservatory. The greenhouses were warm and overflowing with color and fragrance.

It was my best event idea since I’d asked our prom queen’s mom, a wannabe social media influencer, to decorate the school gym as a showcase and promised that every attendee would tag and repost. We had the most blinged-out prom ever.

We’d used the freed-up decorations budget to rent a chocolate fountain. Not my idea—I was allergic to chocolate—but I’d approved it. And in the end, I regretted it. A bunch of drunk high-schoolers and molten chocolate aren’t a great combination. As the prom committee chair, I personally received dozens of dry-cleaning bills from angry parents.

My stomach growled. I hadn’t eaten anything since a cup of coffee and a mouthful of pastry while we had our hair done this morning. I passed up a waiter’s offer of a glass of champagne and started toward the appetizer buffet.

Before I could snatch as much as a cheese tartlet, the too-familiar smell of Paco Rabanne overpowered the earthy, leafy smell of the greenhouse and turned my stomach inside out. I froze, six feet away from the buffet table, wishing the potted palm to my right was thick enough to hide behind. But it was a spindly little thing, and its soft fronds provided neither cover nor defense. I turned, knowing who’d be there.

I used to think his smile was cute, but now it looked smarmy, a flash of whitened teeth. He looked impeccable as always, his suit pressed and his tie knotted in its usual half Windsor.

He straightened his round glasses and settled his arm around a woman’s waist. She was petite, probably a hundred pounds dripping wet, with a button nose and silky-smooth hair. It was like Byron had deliberately chosen my exact opposite.

“Mimi. Funny seeing you here,” he said, pulling himself up straight to look me in the eye. In my heels, I was the same height as him.

I swallowed to coax some moisture into my mouth. I wished I hadn’t passed up the champagne.

“I’m in the wedding party.” I gestured at my navy-blue satin bridesmaid gown like he didn’t already know. “What are you doing here?”

He tucked the woman into his side. “This is Tanya. She’s Josh’s cousin. Small world.”

“Small world,” I echoed.

Tanya smiled uncertainly.

None of this was her fault, and now she was Bree’s family. I stuck out my hand. “Nice to meet you, Tanya. I’m Mimi. Bree and I have been best friends since we were eleven.”

Her hand was limp in mine, and I suddenly felt too much. Too forceful, too big, too loud. The uncertainty that had flattened me after Byron had stolen that job from me crept back into my heart, cold and prickly. He’d never cared about me. I’d been a fool to think he could.

“We miss you at SquawkClip,” he said. “No one can close out the month as quickly as you did.”

The prickles subsided. “Tha—”

“You should have stayed on the team. I’d have made you my assistant.”

“Wait. What?” I blinked so hard my fake eyelashes tangled. “Your assistant?”

“You could be my right-hand person. I have seven people reporting to me now.”

My chest heaved with all the words I wanted to say. To yell. I deserved that job. Even Byron had told me I did. But he’d drawn on his network behind my back and taken it for himself.

I held it all in. I couldn’t make a scene at Bree’s wedding. Not in front of Tanya, who was part of her family now.

“I’m happy where I am. I’m a senior accountant on a fantastic team. And I believe in Synergy’s mission.”

“SquawkClip is the hottest, most exclusive social media video site out there. Everyone wants an invitation.”

“I know.” I’d watched it rise in popularity and media mentions since I’d left. But I’d always felt like a hypocrite working at a company that promoted invitation-only curated video feeds from beautiful people. My teenage self would have consumed those videos like potato chips and felt just as queasy afterward.

---