“Thank goodness,” Squeaky interrupts.
“Totally. Think of the bullet he dodged with that one. Marrying someone that’s not one of us? What was he thinking? But back to my story. I guess since the breakup, rumor from one of her suppliers whose dad knows one of Mrs. Layton’s house staff, is that business has slowed down considerably. Like making-no-profit slow.”
“Oh, poor thing.” Her laugh is pompous as I blink rapidly trying to figure out where the hell they’re getting this shit. I am the supplier. Me and my weekly runs to Costco. “Go back to how the other half lives, sweetheart.”
“God, yes. Leave the upper class alone, little girl.”
“No matter, I’m sure once Momma Layton is done badmouthing her, she’ll have to shut her doors.”
“Good riddance.”
“Agreed. You ready?”
“Of course. Saks Fifth Avenue is calling my name.”
Their voices fade off as they leave and I sit where I am. Stunned. Deflated. Furious.
That conversation was not a plant. Ryder would never go that far. I’d rather be wrong. Rather think that vapid, shortsighted people like them don’t exist in the world.
But it wasn’t.
They were real and they exist.
My hands tremble. Heated tears burn in my eyes because I’m pissed at myself for not telling them both to go to hell. For not standing up for myself and making a huge scene to make them feel like the shallow assholes they are. The problem is I’m so upset—so flustered—that even if I had turned around and said something, I know it would have come out a jumbled mess and made me look like the fool they were saying I am. Disgrace burns bright and it’s aimed one hundred percent at me for failing to find a backbone.
Their insipid comments repeat in my head. Their suppositions. Their judgments. Their everything.
So I do the only thing I can–my temper on fire, my mind dazed by its smoke. I dig in my purse until I find my phone. My fingers hit the wrong button several times as I fumble for the number. The one I recently entered in my contacts but swore I’d never use.
The phone rings. My body vibrates with a shame I shouldn’t feel, with an anger I own wholeheartedly, and with the notion that I was the na?ve one thinking Ryder’s assumptions were wrong.
“Ships Ahoy?” He sounds as surprised to be receiving my phone call as I am in making it.
“I need your help, Hayes. Offer accepted.”
What am I doing?
Dread over my decision filled me on the plane. The memory of Hayes’s words about my temper and the situations it gets me in taunted me. So I forced myself to sleep. To remember the catty words of the women at Starbucks. To hold on to the notion that I’m going to save my business. My passion. My dignity.
The one Ryder helped me fund.
Is this really worth it?
Doubt increased with each step through the airport on the way to the baggage claim. Horrible scenarios played out in my mind. Ones with me losing the nerve to attend the outdoor ceremony, turning to flee in the moments before Rebound Sarah walks down the aisle, and running smack dab into Mitch. Like literally body against body so we both fall backward, me landing on top of him, my dress over my head, Spanx-covered ass in plain view for all the guests to see. Or of me walking into the reception, tripping and falling head first into the cake. All the guests turning to see me stand up, face covered in icing.
The irony, that I’d be covered in frosting—Mitch’s worst nightmare. But at least I’d be unrecognizable.
What if Hayes doesn’t show?
That’s my thought as the tropical air hits my face, and I take in everything around me.
The island is absolutely beautiful. The beaches are picturesque. Its main street colorful and full of sleepy island life as we drive through it.
I repeat the promises I made to myself when I stepped foot onto the plane at the crack of dawn this morning: I’m here to save my business and in the process put to rest the two men I’ve loved in my life.
Because saving my business is first and foremost. Proving to the Laytons and their friends that I’m confident and happy when I’m certain they assume the exact opposite.
And that leads me to my next promise to myself. To use the time here to rid myself of any lingering doubts I may have in regards to Mitch. To reaffirm that I made the right decision walking away and feel nothing for him other than complete indifference.