And what was up with all the secrecy about him and weddings?
I was still thinking about the odd look on Dr. M's face when I heard voices coming from one of the stalls.
"Why is he even here?" a feminine voice said. "I mean, we didn't even send him an invitation. No one thought he'd actually show."
"Maybe he ran out of money," another voice said.
"Or he could just be here to celebrate you and Marco," a third voice said.
"Or maybe"—this was the first voice again—"he's looking for an angle."
"A what?"
"An angle," she repeated. "Hayden isn't stupid. He must've realized we were getting closer to Grandma C, so he came back to put a stop to it."
"Constance hates you, Phil." A laugh. "I don't think he'd have anything to worry about there."
"You're right. The old bat doesn't like me—which is crazy. I'm exactly what a Davenport lady should be, well-groomed, rich, and beautiful. I mean, what more can she expect?"
"I don't know. Maybe a few goals that don't include adding to your Louis Vuitton collection?"
"Shut up, Annabelle, it's my wedding day."
"Oh trust me, we're all aware."
There was a tense silence then the second voice said, "Stop arguing, you guys. Hayden can't just waltz back in and take our inheritance. He's shown his true colors, and Grandma Constance was none too happy."
"Yes, but I still don't understand why he's the favorite."
"You don't know that. Maybe she likes me best."
A scoff. "Come off it, Delaney. Grandma Constance wouldn’t leave all her money to you if you were the last Davenport on Earth."
"Hmph."
There was some rustling, and then the third voice said, "I still don't see what you have against Hayden. He never did anything to you."
"He hogs all the attention without even trying. It's enough to make my blood boil. Speaking of which, who does that girl think she is? Who wears a red dress to a wedding? How tacky."
I looked down at myself, smoothing the satin material of my dress to my frame. The ruby red material wasn't tacky at all. Mom had said it was one of those colors that never went out of style. And it played well with the olive tones in my skin and dark hair.
"He probably hired her from an escort service," said voice number two.
Laughter rang out in the bathroom as my cheeks flared.
"Phillipa, can you just pee already, so we can get out of here?"
"Okay, fine, I'm going."
I tried to get over my shock, was just moving toward the door, when I heard a flush. That had to be the fastest pee in the history of existence, I thought. I hadn't even made it two steps before the door to the end stall was flung open. Three girls came out, two of them bridesmaids and the other one the bride.
They paused when they saw me.
I was frozen with my foot half-up in the air.
Then Phillipa, the bride, walked forward as if they hadn't been gossiping, and started washing her hands.
"Enjoying the wedding?" she asked.
