I take a deep breath. The hostess seems equal parts stunned and irritated, as if she’s having a hard time believing I said all of that without the need for oxygen. She rolls her eyes and holds out her hand. With an audible squee, I offer up my boarding pass. She checks it, picks up the scanner, and the loud, electronic beep confirms that she’s decided to take pity on me.
I breathe a sigh of relief and smile. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“Oh honey, don’t thank me. If you’re going to the wedding of your best friend to your ex-fiancé, you should be thanking god for the tequila you’ll be drowning yourself in at the reception.”
I smile, but inside I’m dying. Not because I feel anything other than hatred and disgust for Chase right now, but because it finally sinks in that I’m on my way to this wedding, and now there’s no way out.
I watch the hostess as she opens the door and radios the plane. Okay, this is it. I’m doing this. I’m really doing this. I’m a strong, single woman. I don’t need an asshole like Chase to make me feel validated as a person. I am woman, hear me—
“Well, don’t just stand there. Go,” the hostess says.
I shoot her a sheepish grin.
“Right, going.” I run down the jetway, carting Claire’s wedding gown and my carry-on case. As I hurry onto the flight I’m met with a whole bunch of unimpressed faces, all glaring at me. The attendant checks my boarding pass and directs me down the aisle to coach with a dismissive hand gesture. I glance around the first-class cabin and meet Claire’s anxious gaze.
“Where were you?” she whisper-hisses.
I set my carry-on at my feet and blow my sweaty bangs out of my face. “Deciding whether or not to light your dress on fire.”
“Oh my God.” Claire places a hand over her heart.
“Don’t worry, it’s still in perfect condition, and I haven’t let it out of my sight.” I gesture to it, and then glance at Chase sitting beside his bride-to-be. “You might want to think about doing the same with Chase, since he has a tendency to wander.”
Behind them, Leo chuckles. So does the Hottie McHotpants beside him. I blush and attempt to move past, but Claire grabs my arm. “Don’t smoosh it all up in the cabin back there, will you?”
“I’ll sit it in my lap. Hey, Chase, isn’t that what you did to Claire?”
“Ooh,” Leo says. Claire turns to glare at him.
“That’s enough, Poppy,” Chase says.
“You know what? Just give it to me. I’ll handle it myself,” Claire huffs.
“That’s what she said,” the dark-haired man beside Leo chimes, and hits an imaginary cymbal like you would at the end of a bad joke.
I smile at him. He winks back, and Leo all of a sudden looks pissed.
I clutch the dress tightly and turn my attention back to Claire. “I can do this. I have this.”
“No.” Claire attempts to snatch it from me. “I’d really rather take care of it myself.”
“Okay, sure. Here you go.” I dump it into her lap and feel as if a weight has been lifted. With a curt smile to the air hostess, who was more than likely coming to kick me off the plane, I pick up my suitcase and move down the aisle to my seat beside Katherine. She shoots me a smug smile and says, “You made it. For a second there I thought you’d miss the flight.”
“Nope. I’m here.”
“And the dress? You didn’t forget the dress, did you?”
“No, I didn’t forget.”
Katherine blushes. “Well, where is it?”
“In first class with Claire.”
“Oh, great.” She clears her throat and flicks through the notebook in her hand. “Well hurry up and get sorted. I want to go over the plan for tonight’s luau. I was looking at our event timeline, and I just don’t think it’s going to work. We’re going to need to shuffle a few of the speeches, and given your behavior in the last week we should just get rid of that maid of honor speech all together.”
I repress an eye roll, stow my luggage in the overhead compartment, and slump down in my seat. The one beside me is empty, and I’m grateful for small mercies. Once Katherine’s finished reorganizing everything and everyone, maybe I’ll get some shut-eye. Between the coughing and sniffling all week, God knows I could do with more sleep.
“Fine by me,” I say, when I realize she’s actually waiting for a response.
As I listen to Katherine drone on I find myself wishing I’d missed the flight. Then Claire really would have had something to be angry about. I’ve bent over backwards since she asked me to be her maid of honor, and all I got in return was a slap in the face. She doesn’t trust me with Chase because she doesn’t trust Chase. She doesn’t realize that even now I’d never hurt her, not the way they did me. A lump forms in my throat. I swallow back my frustration. I don’t love Chase, so why does their betrayal hurt so much?
Maybe it’s because I love Claire. She’s been a part of my family since before we were old enough to wear training bras, long before Chase ever came along. Maybe it stings so much because she was supposed to have my back, and instead she was schtüping my fiancé behind it. Whatever the case, there’s nothing for it now. I still have a job to do and a wedding to oversee, and I intend to make sure it goes without a hitch.
***
A short time into the flight, a man taps me on my shoulder. I glare at him from my computer, take in his dark hair, hazel eyes, the tattoos, and that smirk that’s strangely familiar. It’s Leo’s seatmate. “Little Poppy Porter, all grown up. It’s good to see you again, Pop Tart.”
Pop Tart? Only two men in the entire world have ever called me that infuriating name and two of them happen to have a surname that rhymes with Ass, but surely this is not . . . no. It can’t be. Can it?
“Jasper?” I roll my gaze over him appreciatively.
“The one and only.”
“Oh my God, looks like I’m not the only one who’s grown up,” I say, scooting into the empty seat so he can sit down. A quick glance at Katherine shows she’s still asleep with her eye mask in place, her mouth open, and a thin line of drool escaping her lips to pool on her shirt. I lower my voice to a whisper and turn back to Jas. “How are you?”
“Well, I’m not heading to some douchebag-who-left-me-at-the-altar’s wedding with what looks like the zombie plague, so I’d say I’m feeling a shitload better than you are right now.”
“I’m fine. It’s just a head cold, and he didn’t leave me at the altar. He slept with my best friend before we could even make it there.” I take a deep breath and release it slowly, focusing my anger on something more productive, like landing that promotion. Jasper’s mouth quirks up in the corner, as if he can’t figure me out. He no doubt thinks I’m crazy. “But enough about my awesome life, what’s new with you? You are heading to the douche bags’ wedding, right? Please say yes. One weekend alone with only your brother to torment me was enough.”
He laughs, and it lights up that perfect hazel gaze. “I heard about that. My condolences. And yes, I’m headed to the same place you are. Not sure why. Chase and I were never friends, but it will keep the robots happy and there’s free booze. So hey, who am I to turn it down?”
He presses the call button and an annoyed-looking stewardess comes to see what he wants. When she recognizes his face, she balks. “Mr. Nass, is everything alright? You’re not in your seat.”
“No, I’m not. Great observation there . . .” he glances at her name tag, “Sandra. Four bottles of champagne please.”
“Er, I’m afraid I can only bring one at a time per person here in coach, but if you’d like to return to your seat—”
“And miss talking to this beautiful young woman? Not likely.”
“Jas, you don’t have to stay,” I say, touching his forearm. He glances down at my hand on his and grins.
I’m suddenly struck by the fact that I’m no longer talking to Jasper Nass, the little curly haired boy who followed Leo, Chase, Claire and I around when we were teens. This is an entirely
different person. He’s a man now, and while he’s incredibly different from his brother, he certainly has those Nass good looks. Those boys hit every cell in the genetic gene pool, and then some.
“I want to,” he whispers. “Besides, sitting next to you is a lot better than sitting beside my brother. I’m surprised his snoring hasn’t brought the plane down.”
I laugh. “He does snore pretty loudly.”
Jasper cocks a brow and gives me a wan smile. “And you would know this how?”
I roll my eyes. “Er . . . no, it’s not like that at all. I shared a room with him in Vegas and . . . he may have helped me through a rough spot a couple of weeks ago.”
Jasper’s brows shoot skyward. “Really?”
“Uh-huh.”
The stewardess saves me from having to discuss it further by returning with our drinks. We thank her, and she sashays away, though she doesn’t look happy.
Jasper leans over, unclasps my tray table, and pours champagne for the both of us, and just when I’m about to turn the conversation onto safer subjects than Nass the Ass, he asks, “What kind of rough spot?”
“Oh, you know. The kind where you get so drunk you head out for cupcakes and wind up falling face-first into a cab, and they call the paramedics, and then you’re forced to fight off some big crazy freak who thinks you need his help to get home safely because you have a concussion.”
“Um, nope. Can’t say I know that feeling well,” Jas says with a grin.
“Just me then?” I raise my plastic cup and clink it with his before downing my champagne in one go.
“So, what happened then? He spent the night? That’s not like my brother, unless there’s wild sex involved.”
“Nope, no sex. I passed out on the couch and the bastard took my bed. I woke in the morning and he was shaking the walls with his snoring.”
“Man, what an ass.” Jas winks. “I mean, how dare he help you get home safely and make sure you didn’t fall into a coma?”
“Right?” I laugh. “I’m so glad you understand.”
Jasper and I talk for a while longer. We order another round and he tells me all about his latest band, his plans to stay in New York, and Leo’s newfound celibacy. That last one takes some convincing. Eventually, he decides to head back to his seat, but he surprises me by kissing my cheek before he stands. “You’ll save me a dance at the reception, yeah?”
“Oh, come on, you don’t want to dance with me. There will be scores of young women wanting to skip the dancing and head straight back to your bungalow, I’m sure.”
“Well naturally, but I only do that with the ones I actually like.” He gives me that all-too-familiar Nass grin and walks away.
I sink down into my seat and let out a deep breath. Jasper Nass is fully grown, and just as big a flirt as his brother, it seems.
“Okay, who was that?” Katherine asks, and I turn and find her eye mask pushed up on her forehead.
I clear my throat and hope to hell I’m not blushing. “I thought you were sleeping and didn’t want to be disturbed?”
“It’s a little difficult to sleep when the person next to you is cackling like a hen at everything he said.”
“Well, I would have introduced you, but Jas only dates women who don’t have sticks up their asses,” I say. It just slips out, and before I can do anything to cover the gaff, a sense of pride swells within me.
Katherine stares at me with her mouth gaping open. I shouldn’t have said that, but honestly, I’m tired of taking shit from everyone. I’m turning over a new leaf.
Poppy Porter will be a doormat no more.
Chapter Nineteen
Pop! Goes the weasel
Poppy
A few short hours after we land, I decide I can’t hide out in the bungalow any longer. I can’t avoid Claire and Chase—and worse, my mother—forever, so I slip into a simple off-the-shoulder Kate Spade dress. I keep my hair pulled back in a low and tight chignon, and my makeup simple. It’s eighty-five degrees out, and thanks to my late-night stroll through Manhattan in the rain, this sickness is giving me hot and cold sweats. I don’t need to look like even more of a hot mess with makeup running down my face.
I’m sure Katherine will be baying for my blood because I wasn’t there to help her oversee the setup of the luau. As if she’d be doing any of the physical work anyway. What I wouldn’t give for a drink right now, but I just took another dose of cough medicine, so I decide not to raid the mini bar in my bungalow, grab my purse and my room key, and head out.
The resort is incredible. Like most in the Maldives, there’s a main building housing restaurants and ballrooms, and little huts sit perched in the shallow crystalline water, which you can only get to by following the sprawling boardwalks.
By the time I’ve reached the main building, I’m dizzy from the heat. I grab a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and gulp it down as if it were water, setting the empty flute back on his tray before he has a chance to walk away. So much for not drinking tonight.
Across the garden, my father stands talking to Leo. Directly opposite them, my mother, Mrs. Nass, and Mrs. Vanderbilt are huddled together in their pastel twin-sets, no doubt gossiping about the guest list. Because I know I can’t avoid my parents all weekend, I choose the lesser of the two evils.
“Ah, button. Good to see you.” My father opens his arms wide as I approach, and I move into his embrace.
“Hello, Daddy,” I say, kissing my father on the cheek. I step away, and glance at Nass the Ass. “Leo.”
“Hey, Pop Tart,” Leo says with a smirk, resting his hand on my waist and pulling me closer. I can only stand glued to the spot as he leans down and kisses my cheek. He tucks a wayward strand of hair behind my ear and whispers, “Should you be here right now? You look like hell.”
I grunt and back away as quickly as possible without making it obvious that I want to shank him for touching me. And what the hell was that hair thing? Our temporary truce was done with the second he left me sound asleep and late for work in his apartment five days ago. This man has no right to be tenderly brushing the hair out of my face.
“How are you holding up?” My father takes a glass of champagne from a nearby waiter and hands it to me. I guzzle this glass too because . . . champagne, and it’s my ex-fiancé’s wedding, so the next few hours are automatically guaranteed to be hell.
“I’m great. Just great.” I’m also far too chipper to be believable.
My father frowns. “Button, you don’t have to pretend with me.”
“I’m not pretending, Daddy.”
“Poppy darling, there you are.” I freeze. Oh no. I swallow back the bile that threatens to climb up my esophagus and turn to face my mother with a plastered-on grin. Leo and Chase’s mothers flank her on either side. The three musketeers. Honestly, Claire was lucky her parents were never a part of the Vanderbilt/Nass/Porter madness that was growing up in our families.
I’m drawn in and hugged by all three women. I’m also given plenty of pitying glances, and reassuring pats on the forearm, and told that I just have to hang in there, and wasn’t it good of me to come? When Mrs. Vanderbilt hugs me, she whispers in my ear, “I have prayed to any god who would listen that Chase will change his mind.”
“Oh,” I say, because what else can you say to that?
“He was a fool to leave you.”
“Well, that’s not really what—”
“Claire is lovely, but she’s hardly blue-blooded, and I hear she’s Jewish. Imagine the chaos at Christmas time. Who doesn’t love Jesus?” Mrs. Vanderbilt asks. Mom and Eleanor nod along as if Glory’s comments aren’t completely offensive.
“Actually, Claire celebrates both holidays,” I say. “Her dad is Jewish, and her mother is Catholic.”
“Valerie, if we’d just found a way to keep our children together all this mess could have been avoided,” Glory says.
I gulp back the rest of my champagne, set the glass down on a nearby table, and bite my tongue. Then I
decide life is short and to hell with it. “Hmm, well I suppose you’ll have to get used to the fact that Claire is marrying your son, because Chase is a lying, cheating prick and I wouldn’t take him back if he begged and groveled on his knees.”
Leo laughs. Champagne sprays from his mouth and showers Glory’s face and jacket. He clears his throat. “Shit, sorry.”
“Leo,” Eleanor chastises.
He hands Glory his napkin. “I’m sorry, Glory.”
“Leo.” I grab his forearm. “I’m going to need something stiffer.”
His brows shoot skyward. “Well, I can certainly help with that.”
“Excuse us,” I say, and drag him away from the Three Musketeers and their angry nattering. I lead him through the bushes and out of sight, then I let go of his hand and rub at my temples. “I’m going to need a Xanax and a whole lot of liquor to get through this.”
“That was pretty impressive. I think my mom might have a legitimate lady crush on you.”
I glance at him and shake my head in disbelief. “Tell me I didn’t make a mistake in coming here. Tell me this whole weekend isn’t going to be like this?”
“Oh, it will definitely be like this. The bride will spend the weekend hating on you, your co-worker is a pushy bitch, your ex-fiancé is marrying someone else, and Chase’s family all still wish you were together.”
“No, they don’t.”
“Yeah, they do. You clearly don’t spend enough time at Palace Vanderbilt. It’s all they talk about.”
“That’s just because they never got to know Claire.” I shake my head. “They never wanted to because they’re all elitist assholes.”
He frowns. “How can you defend her after what she did to you?”
I exhale a breath. “Because I’m an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot. You’re too loyal for your own damn good, but that doesn’t make you an idiot.”
“What does it make me?” I ask.
Cake Page 9
