How to Ruin a Wedding(92)

My years in a lower tax bracket will never let me dismiss a million dollars lost as “nothing,” but it’s not my relationship. It’s not my broken piece to put back together.

“You’re right.”

“I am,” she says. “And you and Anders were wrong.” She cocks her head. “You’re alike, but different. Anders wants to take care of everyone, but acts like he isn’t trying to. He wants to be invisible—on the sidelines, watching the people he loves be happy. You’re similar, but you want to be visible. You don’t mind getting involved, getting your hands dirty, being seen trying. You’re both pains in the ass.”

I laugh, then slap a hand over my mouth. I’m not sure it’s something I’m allowed to do right now.

Valerie laughs too—then frowns, like she hates that she let it slip.

“Look, you saw my shitty bridesmaids. You know I don’t have too many good friends. And unfortunately, I like you too.”

The present tense makes hope perk up in my bones. I sit up straighter, leaning forward.

“You said you wish you could prove you’re telling the truth. Do you mean that?”

“I do. Yes. Of course.”

“Okay.” She links her fingers together. “I’ve postponed the wedding. Not because I don’t love John—or vice versa—but if everyone around me is nervous, everyone who’s seen me through some dark times, then I want to ease some of the worry. This fall—I’m getting married. For real this time.”

“Okay.”

“Will you help plan it?” she asks, and it’s the last thing I expected. “If you want to prove you’re a good friend, then repair what you broke. Do the opposite of what brought you here. Help me get married. For real.”

“I’ve never planned a wedding before,” I stammer.

“But you’ve planned how to ruin one,” Valerie points out. “So you know the ins and outs. You’ve been trying to wreck weddings every which way—you probably know more than you think.”

I chew my bottom lip, trying to formulate a response—trying to process my workload—when she adds, “Is it Anders? Do you not want to be in Charleston?”

I don’t respond. I haven’t nailed down what my future looks like. I have a general idea, but I don’t want to get my hopes up.

She takes my silence as an admission.

“He’s not even going to be here much. He’s going back to the office in New York for a while—thinks he wants to get away from us, or give us a break from him, not sure. You’ll barely see him. Honestly, we’ve seen him more with you here. He usually works, travels—this is the longest he’s let us have him.”

“That’s not it,” I finally say, a flood of emotions rushing through me. “He’s not the problem. I—I actually have plans that’ll keep me here. In Charleston. But nothing’s for sure yet.”

“What is this, hide and seek?” Valerie asks. “You come here. He goes there. Are you purposely avoiding him?”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to avoid Anders.”

“But you won’t see him?”

“I’m not sure how.”

“I’m offended you found me more approachable than him,” she says. “But, Lucy, Anders is doing what he always does—putting himself on the sidelines. I don’t think he belongs there. I think you should pull him onstage, because he doesn’t know how to get there himself.”

I open my mouth, then shut it. I agree. I think Anders should be happy out in the open. I don’t want him to feel like he has to pull away—like he isn’t wanted.

But I’m nervous I’m not the one who can make him as happy as he deserves. Every relationship I’ve been in has failed. Even if his family forgives me, who’s to say our relationship can ever be healed? Shouldn’t he be with someone with less baggage?

“Can we revisit this conversation?” I finally ask.

Valerie rolls her eyes. “I’ve barely forgiven you, and you’re already taking advantage.”

“Sorry,” I say.

“Yeah, yeah.” She waves a hand. “What are these plans? If you’re not staying for Anders, why the hell would you stay in Charleston?”

“I’m going to buy K9 Friends,” I say. “I think. It’s actually not up for sale.”

“The place Anders adopted Sora?”

My heart stutters at the thought of Anders traveling so much, but between him and Olive, I know Sora is well loved and taken care of.

“Yeah. It needs a lot of repairs, a lot of funding, a new staff member—maybe more. Just an overall facelift. I think it deserves it. It lacks a lot, but not love. It’s loved so much, and I want it to have everything it needs. I want it to be better.”

“So”—Valerie frowns—“you’re going to buy a shelter that’s not for sale.”

“I don’t know if you know this about me,” I say before I can stop myself, “but I’m pretty good at convincing people to do things.”

When Valerie glares at me, I add, “Too soon?”

She frowns for a second, then tilts her head in a laugh. “I hate that I like you.”

“I love that I like you.”