Fun.
“Oh, a wedding. Okay, wow…” It’s a little on the nose, if you ask me, but to each his own. “Congratulations. Yeah, the gardens would be great for the ceremony…and maybe then take the reception inside the grand ballroom once I’m finished—”
“By September, Mr. Bridges,” she says, steady. Then, with cold precision, she throws down the gauntlet. “If we’re going to host a Livingston wedding here, I need you to move up the timeline for the restoration. Bring in additional crew if you must—”
“Mrs. Livingston, we discussed anywhere from six months to a year.” I scrape a hand over my mouth, dumbfounded by her audacity. “Memorial Day is next week. That’s, what, four months, give or take?”
What the…?
“I’ve done most of the preliminary work,” she insists, like fundraising and phone calls cover everything but logistics.
I suck in a lungful of air.
“Listen…” I even my tone, hoping this woman will hear reason, if not the risks involved when it comes to her precious son’s physical safety.Jesus.“There are structural repairs required to preserve the historical integrity. I’m sourcing rare and custom materials to match the original construction. We’re still waiting on some of the city permits. We can’t just skip preservation guidelines because of a wedding.”
Her smile is too perfect, the kind that doesn’t quite reach her eyes when she speaks. “Mr. Bridges, I’ve interviewed countless preservationists, and you’re the city’s preferred vendor. I believe ‘the expert’ was the term I heard most often.” She pulls in a short breath, smiling. “I have all the faith in the world that you’ll get the job done.”
Frustration flares in my gut.What the hell is shethinking?“It’s notrealistic…” I stress the word, mentally calculating how much more crew I’ll need and which corners can be cut while still honoring the building’s historical foundation.
This is bull.
“It’ll have to be,” she replies, seeming unfazed, her attention drifting to her phone. “The wedding’s been set for Saturday, September twentieth, and I’m not asking you—I’m telling you. We’ll need rehearsals the day before, and the vendors are going to require access well ahead of time to set up—florists, caterers, sound, lighting, the whole team. I expect you to coordinate with the wedding planner…” She breaks off, her focus trained on the phone.
Her thumb glides over the screen, her eyes briefly flickering at its content. Then, with a subtle shift, she lifts her gaze to mine, a glint of delight in her dark irises.
“You can’t be serious—”
“The manor’s going to be the backdrop for my son’s wedding, Mr. Bridges,” she cuts me off, leaning in slightly, a hint of iron in her voice. “I won’t have anything less than perfection. Nor will Ebony. Do you understand?”
I want to say no.I absolutely cannot comprehend a word of whatyou’re saying because it’s ludicrous. This timeline isnot unrealistic—it’s dangerous.
But then my mind reels back, halting at the name.
“Uh, I’m sorry…” My throat dries up. “Wh-what did you say?”
Cornelia grins, that smug, knowing smile of hers. “I just got the email confirmation from the wedding planner. You remember Ebony, don’t you?”
A jolt of fire surges through me, and my pulse quickens.
Ebony Grace Livingston. The name feels like a sucker punch. Cornelia’s ex-daughter-in-law. My high school crush. My college one-night stand that lives rent-free in my mind. My former friend. The one who got away.Because she was never mine to beginwith.
My head spins, her words scraping across the thinly dusted surface of my mind.
I never want to seeyou again, Lincoln Bridges. Stay away from me and stayaway from my family.
I swallow as all the tension I buried comes rushing back. The thought of working with her churns in my gut, dredging up old regrets and unanswered questions. The thought of being in same room as her, the same space asher, unsettles me more than I care to admit.Damn.
“If I’m remembering correctly, you two have somewhat of a…shared history.” Cornelia’s high-pitched voice lifts with sinister joy. “She’s also graciously agreed to take on the wedding, short notice. So, I guess this will be a reunion of sorts.”
Yeah, of sorts.
I trace my tongue over my teeth, tension tightening the cords of my neck as I stare at this diabolical woman in utter disbelief.What areyou trying to do, Cornelia?
This just keeps getting better and better.
First, she finalized the contract, shaving months off my timeline, and now she’s thrown in a wedding that will require me to work with the one woman who loathes my existence.Yeah…this is going to gosideways so fast.
Cornelia straightens, practically glowing. “I’m going to rejoin the tour now, but I sent her your contact. Please take care to ensure everything’s seamless.”
