Page 2 of Shared By my Ex's Best Friends
“I could say the same,” I reply, trying for casual but landing somewhere between strained and awkward. “Didn’t know you were back in town.”
He crosses his arms, navy linen stretching slightly over his biceps. “Just visiting. Danielle invited me.”
Of course she did. Why wouldn’t she invite her beloved big brother?
The silence between us is louder than the clink of silverware and the bubbly chatter of nearby brunch-goers. I catch a server eyeing us warily, probably wondering if she should offer coffee or call security.
“So…” I fumble, pushing a strand of brown hair behind my ear, “how have you been?”
Nick laughs. Once. It’s short and sharp, not at all amused. “You really want to have that conversation here?”
I flinch. “No. I just…” I swallow. “I didn’t know you’d be here. I’m trying to be polite…”
“Would you have shown up?” His eyes pin me in place. “If you knew I was going to be here?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
He shakes his head and scoffs. “Figures. You’d flake on poor Danielle just to spite me.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” I insist, irritation bubbling up within me. “Despite what you might think, my whole world does not revolve around you.”
He rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Don’t screw this up for her, got it? Do your job—if you can really call this a job.”
Asshole! He knows exactly where to hit where it hurts, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of watching me squirm.
“Excuse me,” I snap. “I don’t want to be late.”
I lift my chin, smooth the mask over my face, and walk past him like he’s nothing more than inconveniently placed furniture. I can feel him glaring after me, but I don’t look back. I won’t give his ego that satisfaction.
I weave through tables draped in ivory linens and polished to perfection. Crystal flutes sparkle under chandeliers, catching the light and shimmering like glitter. I can’t look at anyone.
My fingers curl around my phone like it’s a lifeline. The notification still flashes across the screen.
Unread Email: Welcome to the Bridal Party!
A week ago, I opened Danielle’s initial offer with a glass of grocery store merlot and every intention of deleting it. I reread it more times than I care to admit.Bridesmaid.Discretion guaranteed.$5,000 honorarium.
The words felt like a dare. Or a bribe. Or both.
I’ve been working as a “bridesmaid for hire” for a few years now, but I’ve never gotten a potential payday like this. Not surprising, though, for an Anderson with their old money privilege and snobbery. But Danielle’s an exception to that. She was alwaysnice to me when I was dating Nick. Always warm and accepting, even when the rest of her family thought he was slumming it with me.
Still, my first instinct was to turn down the job, obviously. It would be way too awkward. I’d have to see Nick, and try to tolerate his family… but then I thought it over.
And I accepted.
I need the money. Desperately. And if I’m being honest with myself, I need something to yank me out of the rut I’ve been marinating in. A change. A challenge. Something—anything—that doesn’t involve sitting alone on my couch watching reruns and eating cereal for dinner.
Even if thatsomethingmeant designer tulle, passive-aggressive brunches, and navigating the minefield that is my ex-boyfriend’s uppity family and bubbly sister.
“Maya!” Danielle’s voice floats through the air, crystal-clear and perfectly pitched.
I glance up. She’s perched at the far end of the room in a soft blush dress that hugs her curves like it’s been tailored (probably has), with pearls at her throat and a smile that’s all socialite shine. Her long blonde hair falls in soft curls around her shoulders.
She’s everything I’m not—elegant, poised, untouched by awkward reality—and she looks genuinely relieved to see me,like she half-expected I wouldn’t show up. Would Nick have put that worry in her head?
I paste on a smile. Tight, but not fake. Polished enough to pass inspection.
I make my way over, and she pulls me into a hug.
