“Seriously, Mom? Let the man talk.”
She sucks her teeth, incensed, shooting daggers at poor Dad.
“He’s working with the woman, Teddy.” Her eyes darken, and I swear there are red flames in their depths. “Don’t.”
As soon as she says the word, though, Mom knows she’s made a mistake. The man respects his wife, but they never tell each other what they “can’t” do.
Dad exhales a deep sigh. “It’s not as dramatic as your mother’s making it seem,” he says, but everything about his stiff posture says otherwise. Whatever he’s about to say, Theodore Bridges is actively downplaying it.
“Oh, hell, Teddy. You really burn me up.” Mom turns her back to him and folds her arms across her chest, fuming.
“What your mother and I share—it’s not a love you let go of easily, son. You fight for it,” he starts, then proceeds to tell me that not only was he the escort for Cornelia Livingston—formerly Sterling, and yes, ofthatSterling real estate conglomerate—but their cotillion arrangement left their parents wanting more for such a perfect pair. The wealthy debutante princess and the straitlaced but strong-willed football phenom. They got to the point where their parents were discussing marriage. There was just one minor hiccup: he was already in love with the Ellswood girl.
“Wait, wait, wait, wait,wait!” My heart is beating a million miles a minute, and I’m still grasping for straws because… “Are you telling me Mom stole her man?”
Mom jolts, indignation billowing off her. “First off, we were spending time togetherbeforeCornelia beat me to the chase and asked him to be her escort. So,no! I absolutely did notstealyour father!”
I rest my elbows on the table and drop my head into my hands, still wrapping my mind around this bomb they just dropped.
“You knew y’all’s parents were talking about freakingmarriage, and you did what? Go behind her back with Mom? Help me understand, because none of this is making sense.”
They share a loaded glance, Mom’s expression screaming ayou didthisaccusation, and I’m guessing she’s hanging him out to dry, because she goes tight-lipped.
“Listen,” Dad says, “this was a long time ago. Back then, parents were always making plans and arrangements for us while leaving us in the dark.” The crease between his thick eyebrows deepens. “I wanted to be your mother’s escort, but all the women in the family said it was too late because Cornelia had already asked, and I said yes. So I was going to take her—as a friend. When it was over, I was always going to choose my Lottie.”
I nod, still processing. “And you didn’t know about the marriage?”
“No.” He shakes his head, but his gaze is faraway in time.
Suddenly, I am too, shifting so many missing pieces from my past into place. I know why Cornelia hates my family. Why she rejected me from Zion & Zara. Why she went out of her way to ensure I never felt remotely good enough. Why, now, Ebony’s theory about sabotaging her business maynotbe just about her.
Everything makes so much more sense.
The same way Cornelia claims Ebony’s business should rightfully belong to a true Livingston, she believes the Bridges stole the life that was meant for her.
I’m the collateral damage of a betrayal that happened long before I was even born. And now, I’ve got to consider that her revenge plan is either two-fold, or may not even be about Ebony at all.
Slipping my phone from my pocket, I tap out a quick message to Ebony.
Lincoln
Hey, can’t stop thinking about you. I know you told Vincent you’d think it over, but are you actually considering coming with me to Dawsonville this weekend? I’d love to spend some real time with you. Also, got some new stuff to share about your Cornelia theory. Let me know. Talk soon.
Chapter Seventeen
The L Word
Ebony
I glance at my phone,where the divatantes—minus Hillary, of course—are still double-checking their calendars for Hailey’s bridal show next weekend. Relief floods through me at the thought that we’ll finally be in the same space and able to get to the bottom of whatever’s going on with her.Temporaryrelief. Because then, on the screen, Tatiana pulls her hair into a giant, messy bun atop her head and asks, “Can we please get back to Lincoln Bridges saying he’d love to spend time with you?”
And just like that, I start freaking out again.
The texts.
I let out a full-chested sigh. “Yeah, so, then he says,Let’s make a day of it…” I shrug, fresh panic surging through my veins. “We’re supposed to be sourcing replacement crystals for the grand ballroom chandelier. Like, sir, why do I need hiking boots and a swimsuit? I’m just along for the ride, not to scale a mountain or dive into the deep end.”
That’s what I say out loud.
