Page 11 of The Lovers
She’s still stunning. I still feel heat between my thighs when I see her, but I would never, ever go there again.
Her eyes flick up from the bar, where she is clearly fine-tuning the offerings on the charcuterie board that was just delivered. Picking it apart just like she does everything else in life.
Like she did me.
Her eyes trail up and stop right on my face. Something flickers in them. Not hate, not love, probably not any human emotion since she’s practically soulless.
“You’re here,” she says. Her voice is bright and bell-like, a perfect match to her flawless Connecticut socialite persona. The Cunninghams are one of those families with ties that go way back to the first settlers off the Mayflower, and they are so out of touch with popular culture that they still brag about it at dinner parties.
“Of course I’m here. I’m the wedding planner,” I say, dry, matter-of-fact. “You’re the one making a surprise appearance.”
“I was coming anyway, even if Ellen hadn’t shattered her leg.”
“Being here as a guest is different from attending as a bridesmaid.”
She’s unreadable, and I immediately feel paranoid. When a person breaks your trust over and over, it’s easy to see them as a villain, to believe the worst. I have a hard time believing that Piper didn’t know I was Millie’s wedding planner, and that this knowledge didn’t influence her behavior.
I’m not saying she somehow sabotaged Ellen in a plot to get her bridesmaid spot.
But I’m notnotsaying it either.
She doesn’t look away from me as the bar attendant delivers an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne and four flutes. “Thanks so much. All looks great. Can you please have this waiting in the bride’s room for her two p.m. arrival?”
I have to pull it together. Piper sucks, but she didn’t brutallyinjure someone just so she could spend the whole weekend here with me.
The bar attendant nods, walking away with the offerings.
“Wasting no time making sure you have Millie under your thumb,” I say. My tongue is a sword slicing her open to expose her true nature. Bomb people with love, then squash their spirit. Piper gets what she wants, and she gets it no matter the cost.
“I don’t know what you mean by that, Julia. I’m just giving the bride a welcome present. It’s proper etiquette.” Etiquette, of course. She had an honest-to-God coming out party—the debutante kind, not the closet kind. She’s still in that second one as far as I know.
“Right, and etiquette is important to you.” Socially, she’s a saint. Her reputation as an opportunistic,whatever it takesjournalist is a better indicator of her true personality. Her face twitches. A little tremor of hurt passing over it. I don’t have to stand here and be emotionally manipulated, either. I turn to go, and she rushes up behind me.
Her fingers graze my wrist but don’t hold on. “Wait.” One word, a plea in her voice. I stutter to a stop as if her desire still has a hold on me. I twist around so I can glare in her face. “I’ve wanted to text you so many times over the last year, but this is better. This way we can really talk.”
“I don’t have anything to say to you.” I step away from her. I feel words bubbling up in my throat, threatening to spew like acid. There are a lot of things I’ve wanted to say to her over the last year, but none of them are kind or professional.
And I’m here to work. Not be vindicated.
“Oh thank God, Julia, there you are.” Zoe’s voice comes from the Oasis entrance. “We have an emergency.”
I let my molten stare cut through Piper one more time before walking away. Zoe’s eyebrows dance, and then her eyes flick back and forth between us. She has the presence of mind not to ask the details.
“What’s the emergency?” I ask as we walk.
“Geometric altar drama,” she says. And then she adds with a squeak, “Guess it’s good you arrived early.”
“If I hadn’t, then you would have handled it.” Her posture immediately grows with pride. “I need to drop my bag at Homebase and then you can take me to the ceremony site.”
Shake it off, Julia. Just shake. Her. Off.
Chapter Five
Kit
A sunburst right overhead is the perfect Universe-delivered final touch to this selfie photoshoot at Cabazon Dinosaurs, a kitschy roadside attraction on the way to Joshua Tree. The giant green and white T-Rex with the red heart inscribed with “Be Mine” on his chest looms just off-center in the shot. I do a quick “natural” edit and post it on Instagram with the caption,Just a little me time in the desert. #loveyourself #breakingupishardtodo
That will keep fans and foes alike busy for hours. Most of my followers are supportive, light-centered, love-driven humans on a genuine quest for spiritual growth. Some of them are dudes who can’t get past Instagram’s safety features to send me dick pics but do leave comments on my photos. And a small percentage are people who can’t wait to shit on anything I do, no matter how magical or mundane. They like to fight it out in comments or share my posts in stories with derisive asides, but my blue check means I basically never see anything unless it’s from people I follow.
