How to Ruin a Wedding(51)

Dainese pulls out an individually wrapped treat. “They’re five dollars each.”

I’ll probably overdraft for this, but I say, “I’ll take ten.”

When Olive reaches into her polka-dot wallet, I grab her hand. “Olive, get the big guns. Let’s clear it out.”

“You got it,” she says, then sprints off in search of Bethany.

Dainese laughs as she runs my card. “I can spot a true dog lover a mile away, and you’ve got the heart of one.”

I nod. “I volunteer at this shelter in New York every week. I love them so much.”

She raises her brows. “Not from here?”

I shake my head. “Here for a couple of months.”

Dainese reaches over and hands me a business card. “If you ever have the time to volunteer while you’re visiting, I work at a tiny shelter by Folly. It’s not much, but we love what we do, and there are never enough hands.”

I pocket the card in the tiny bag I received from a vendor. “Will do.”

Olive returns with Bethany in hand. “I got her.”

“Oh.” Bethany takes one look at Sora and hands over her black card. “We’ll take it all.”

“Thank you!” Dainese squeals.

“Leave the treats,” Bethany says when Dainese reaches in the container. “Consider this a donation. Add a zero to whatever it is. Sell the rest if you can.”

Dainese begins this stammer of gratitude, and though it has nothing to do with me personally, I hold Bethany’s hand in mine and squeeze. “Thank you.”

Bethany pokes my nose. “You softie.”

We wrap it up here, and the employees scramble to put together a bag with human treats and a thank-you card for Bethany before we go.

“Now,” Bethany says, “I’ve worked up an appetite. Let’s get some food.”





16.


I don’t admit I’ve never had high tea before, but the way I examine each tiny sandwich and delicate pastry, I’m sure it’s obvious to Bethany. But she only laughs at each declaration as everything I bite into becomes my next favorite food of all time.

I grab a stack of chocolate from the top of the three-tiered silver platter between us and make the same announcement.

“Lucy,” Olive says as I take another bite. “Are they going to kill Sora if nobody adopts him?”

I choke on the cake, pounding on my chest while I cough it out. Olive shoves a glass of water toward me, too hard, and it spills on my dress. The water drenches my entire top, dripping over the skirt.

“Sorry!” Olive yells while Bethany shoots up and shoves a napkin all over me.

“It’s okay,” I say, taking the cloth and blotting my chest while Bethany flags down a waiter for me. “I was getting too hot anyway.”

The waiter offers me plenty of napkins, and I wave off Bethany’s aid. While I dry myself off, I answer, “It seems like Dainese really cared about Sora. I think she’s going to take care of him as best as she can.”

“So he will die?” Olive says simply, then turns to Bethany.

Bethany immediately holds up a hand. “No, you know I’m allergic.”

“But I’m not.”

“Good for you.” Bethany squeezes Olive’s cheeks. “But until you have your own place, you live under my—what I like to think are—pretty easygoing rules.”

Olive scoffs. “I can’t have a phone. I can’t have a dog. It’s like you hate me.”

“If I hated you, darling, you’d be shipped off to some boarding school by now, but I like waking up to this pretty little face every morning.”

“Stop it.” She jerks away. “You’re being so selfish.”

“Me?” Bethany points to herself. “You want me to suffer every morning in my own house?”

“Who cares if you have a runny nose every now and then?”

“You cute little brat—”

“The shelter Sora is at is a no-kill,” I interrupt, holding my hands out. “I’m planning on visiting Sora sometime this week. You can come with me and check on him.” I look to Bethany. “If that’s okay with you?”

“Please.” Olive grips Bethany’s arm.

“Of course. Now take back what you said.”

Olive grins. “You’re generous and pretty and smart.”

Bethany laughs, then faces me. “Anders said you worked at a shelter when you could. I guess the love runs deep—and I understand that. You love dogs, and I’m a horsewoman myself. Ride every weekend at my favorite farm. Volunteer there, too, when they need a hand managing things.”

Again with Anders speaking about me. Of course, it could be from Bethany just having a conversation with him like we’re having one now. But the idea of him speaking about me without me around feels like we’re real.

And we’re absolutely not.

“It does,” I say. “I’ve always wanted to run my own shelter.”

“So I hear,” Bethany says. “You know, there are plenty of opportunities here in Charleston. Lots of places to invest in, buildings to lease out.”

“Are there?” I say, my words stretched out to hide my shock.