How to Ruin a Wedding(91)

When I open my mouth—almost like she doesn’t want me to get the jump on her—she speaks first.

“You reached out to me before Anders? Why?”

The mention of Anders steals some of the moisture from my throat. I haven’t responded to a single message or call, and they dwindled until he finally stopped trying.

“I hurt you the most,” I answer, trying to sound like my heart doesn’t feel bruised. “So I wanted to see you, to say that I’m sorry—and to let you rip into me, because you deserve the outlet.”

She narrows her eyes. “Is this reverse psychology? You want me to feel bad for you so I don’t tear you a new one?”

I shake my head. “I want you to do whatever you want. Whatever will make you feel better.”

She tilts her cup back and forth. “And if spilling this all over your head would help?”

I push my coffee toward her. “This one’s full—use it instead.”

Valerie slams her cup down. “I don’t get you. You do something horrible, but you look like I just killed your childhood pet. You could have stayed the hell away from me, knowing how pissed I am, but instead, you’re sitting here, willing to let me humiliate you? Anders hired you to ruin my wedding, yet you tried to shoulder all the blame and make it seem like you manipulated him into it?”

At my wide eyes, she gives me a look.

“Did you really think Anders would let that slide? He told us the truth. All of it. Start to finish. I don’t get you, Lucy. Are you a good person or a bad one?”

“I don’t know.” I look down at my lap. “I’m just a person.”

She rolls her eyes, downs the rest of her chai, and glares at me. “If you think just because you’re sorry I’m going to forgive you, you’re embarrassingly mistaken.”

“I’m not sorry because I think you’ll forgive me. I’m sorry because I misunderstood, and I did a horrible thing to you.”

She looks me up and down. “So you don’t care if I forgive you?”

“I’d like you to. But I understand if you can’t.”

Her bottom lip trembles. She bites down on it before snatching my coffee out of my hands.

“I thought we were friends,” she says. “I knew you were Anders’s girlfriend”—she uses air quotes—“and that came first. But you made me feel like you were a safe space. That was a lie.”

“I lied a lot,” I admit. “But if you needed me—if you still need me—I’m here for you. That part was never a lie.”

She looks away, sips from my drink, but her hand is shakier than she probably wants it to appear.

“I really like you, Valerie. I like that you don’t care if you’re being snobby, because you’re still kind. I like how you defend your family and yourself. I think you’re brave, and funny, and a little careless with your words in the way only a self-proclaimed nepo baby can be. I like that no matter if you’re in a good mood or a bad one, you own it fully. I like so much about you.”

She pulls back like I’ve insulted her. “What the hell is this?”

“A confession,” I say. “A real one. Maybe a few months—or a few years—down the line, you’re bored and think of me. I can still be a friend. If you need it.” I shake my head. “Not need. You don’t. You stand on your own. But if you want.”

She traces circles on the table with her curved nail, eyeing me, inspecting my face like she’s trying to peek into my brain and decode my thoughts. Figure out if I mean it. Figure out if she even cares if I do.

“You came all the way to Charleston for this?”

“No,” I admit. “This was part of it. But I’ve got other things to see to as well. Still, this was one of the most important.”

“You had me—all of us—fooled,” Valerie says. “It’s hard to tell if this is real, because you’ve already proven to be a good actress.”

“I wish I could prove it to you in a way you’d believe,” I tell her.

She shuts her eyes, tilts her head in a stretch, and then opens them again. “John isn’t who you or Anders thought he was.” She looks down, swirls my latte, looks up at me. “And Anders finally admitted that,” she adds. “He came over after everything, said he was wrong about trying to intervene. I know he projected all his own stuff onto John because he didn’t want me to get hurt again. But he gets it now. He sees that we love each other deeply.”

My chest tightens. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

“I know he’s not what anyone saw for me,” she says. “And yeah, John made that mistake with the money. But it wasn’t anything like what Nick did. Everyone screws up. John just does it while meaning well. And that counts for something. He’s naive, but it just makes me want to protect him more. And I’m emotionally all over the place, and he is always patient with his care. It’s a messy love, but it’s both our lives to sloppily go through together. I don’t need a perfect partner. I just need genuine love.”

She goes on. “I know he makes mistakes, but when Nick hurt me, it was on purpose. And there’s so much more to John that his mistakes feel like nothing, in the grand scheme of things.”