Both Melissa and Brad loved posting to Instagram, and whenever possible, Bradley would always use #girldad. He’d always tag her, too, and Melissa’s influencer status was growing. Ophelia was always a hit, though Melissa had to be careful not to let her know she was being photographed, or she’d get a stony stare. #LoveMyNiece #LegalGuardian #FosterParent #FosteringSavesLives #FosterKidsMatter #Niece #Auntie #Motherhood. It worked . . . Sandra Bullock followed her! （It wasn’t blue-check verified, but even so!）
Stella Maris helped her numbers grow as well—she used the same professional organizers Gwyneth Paltrow had, and they tagged her closet! Not only that, a Real Housewife commented on the fact that they had the same purse!
And now, the wedding. Everyone on social media loved a wedding, especially one that was expensive and gorgeous, which Melissa’s certainly would be. With Dennis, she had just needed the marriage certificate and the ring on her finger （which, yes, had been a diamond band）。 With Bradley, she would swing for the bleachers, and no one did that like Hannah Chapman Events, according to Cape Cod Life, the Knot and Martha Stewart Weddings.
Hannah had style, unlike her sister, Melissa thought as they sat in the parlor of her very charming and posh office. She wasn’t pretty, and she was old （well . . . the same age as Bradley）， but she knew how to dress. Perfect manicure, great haircut, fantastic lipstick. An arrangement of white orchids was in a low vase on the coffee table, and the place smelled fabulous, thanks to a pear-and-freesia-scented Jo Malone candle.
Hannah and Melissa could be friends, maybe. That was one of the only flaws in Melissa’s new life. No friends. Not yet, anyway. Not that she’d ever really had anyone super close, but . . . well, there’d been her roommates back in Kansas, but she’d had to block them, since they obviously knew she hadn’t gone to that Wesleyan. One woman at yoga seemed nice, and they’d had coffee once, but after Brad left Lillie, she’d stopped speaking to Melissa. Whatever.
Kaitlyn had been her friend, once. Before the drugs and drinking and slutting around. Once upon a time, they’d laughed together so hard their parents had yelled at them to settle down. If only Kaitlyn had tried harder, they could be living this life together.
What a strange thought. Melissa cleared her throat and squeezed Bradley’s hand. The ring on her finger （which she’d insisted Bradley pay for, since she was giving him everything else） had been made here on the Cape, another way to make friends and influence people. A two-carat solitaire diamond flanked by two tapered-cut baguette diamonds. Flashy but classy. She’d already spent tens of thousands in town, at the galleries and shops, the wine store, the church. She’d have friends, especially after they came to the wedding of the century.
“So,” Hannah said, pouring more tea into Melissa’s cup, “now that you’ve told me about your love story”—she swallowed hard, but Melissa let it pass—“give me some adjectives of what you want your wedding to be.”
“I just want it to be simple and personal, you know?” Melissa said. “But beautiful.” This was a lie, and Hannah seemed to sense it.
“Simple, personal and beautiful, of course. This is such a special day,” she said, not looking at Bradley. “We want it to reflect you as a couple, the things you love most, that reflect what’s important to you.” Another swallow. Bile? It didn’t matter.
“Exactly, Hannah,” Melissa said. “Personal, intimate and lovely. Right, babe?”
“Right, babe,” Bradley echoed. “And, Hannah, again, thank you for being so professional about this.”
“Of course,” Hannah said. “This is my business, and I want you to have a stunning day.”
Or at least cash the check, Melissa thought. Because she was going to spend so much on this wedding, and she was going to invite just about every resident of Wellfleet. Hannah charged 10 percent of the event budget plus a nonrefundable $20,000 deposit, so she’d be making at least $200,000 on this little soiree. Melissa would make sure she earned it.
In the two weeks since Bradley had moved in with her, Melissa had already improved him. His beard was four days of perfect stubble and no longer gray. His glasses were now tortoiseshell Armani, replacing those silly Harry Potter gold rims. She was thinking he should get LASIK, but there wasn’t time before the wedding. Highlights in his blond hair. Pants by Tom Ford, shirt by Burberry. She’d surprised him with a Jaguar convertible, and she had to admit, he was adjusting to his new life quite well.