Books and Names
Ebony
“Oh my God, thisfeelslike déjà vu…” Priscilla spins slowly inside the grand ballroom, her brown eyes saucer-wide, shaking her head. “I mean, I get that you need to confront her—what she did was foul as hell—but are you really sure this is the best move? Couldn’t you wait until the shower’s over and corner her on the way out?”
Whitney and I exchange a brief glance.
“No,” we say in unison.
We’re absolutely on the same page.
First, I’ve given Hillary ample opportunities to reach out to me. And second, this is a three-birds-one-stone situation. Face Hillary, call Cornelia’s bluff, and figure out if Hailey will fire me out of sibling loyalty. At the end of the day, I need to know where my business stands, and they need to understand that I’m not an easy target.
Period.
Although, to acknowledge Priscilla’s point, my plan—ifI can even call it that—isn’t exactly ideal. Nor professional, per se. Cornering this woman at her sister’s bridal shower, thatIplanned, isn’t how I envisioned this going. I can’t very well walk out there, clear my throat, and interrupt the “What’s in my phone?” game.
What would I even say?
“Sorry, just checking on theshower. More tea? Hey, drama-magnet friend Renee, did Hillaryby chance mention she’s a two-faced, conniving homewrecker? No? Well, you’ll love Cornelia, but be careful—she’ll fabricate an entire cheating scandal out of thin airto tear you down. Anyway, enjoy your brunch. Hope we’re still good to go, Hailey…”
Uh, no.
Damn, thisis bad.
Then again, should I care about interrupting this event if I might get fired anyway? I’m done sitting back and waiting.
“In the words of the great divatante, Whitney Graves…” I plant my hands on Priscilla’s slender shoulders and project to the echoes of this magical, gloriously spotlit ballroom. “‘I’m not letting these bougie, low-vibrational folks define nor destroy my happiness another day.’”
My girls erupt into howls and cackles.
“But do y’allhearme?” Whitney presses, too serious. “The way we apparently need to say it a little louder for the duplicitous folks in the back…” She stretches her arms wide, eyes locked on the double doors leading out to the terrace where Hailey’s bridal shower is happening. Then she switches into full preach mode, delivering a one-size-fits-two sermon, undoubtedly aimed at Hillary just as much as it is at Cornelia. “Louder for those who think what’s done in the dark won’t come to the light.”
Priscilla nods, fidgeting with the hem of her chic layered ruffle number—they’re dressed for the occasion. “Yeah, you’re right, I guess.”
The thing is, after I told them about Linc seeing Hillary with Julian years ago, Priscilla and Whitney nearly lost it. Tatiana and Chanel were ready to book flights home. They were furious, too. Being with Julian wasn’t only betraying me; it was a betrayal of everything our friendship stood for. When we first formed the divatantes, we made a pact through thick and thin, sickness and health, come shitty men or matchmaking mamas, we’d always support one another.
Hillary broke that promise.
So, yeah, losing her as a friend only compounded the pain of losing my marriage. Our bond was a constant in my life, and without her, everything has felt off balance. We’re missing a piece of us. Luckily, Priscilla, Whitney, Tatiana, Chanel, and I remind each other daily how fortunate we are to have this friendship. Thisfamily.
But what Hillary did…
A betrayal of this magnitude can’t go unchecked. Might as well have two showdowns at the once, right?
After all, isn’t that what bridal showers are for? Spending quality time with your closest family and friends before the big day?
With my hand on the door handle, I meet Priscilla and Whitney’s stares, giving them one last chance to talk me out of this. I smooth my hands over my tailored, blush-pink silk chiffon dress paired with nude heels.
I’m protecting my reputation, integrity, and professionalism.
Well, two out of three isn’t bad.
“Okay, so I’m doing this.”
On a deep breath, I exit onto the terrace, forcing a huge, too-perfect smile as I casually make my way over to the buffet table. I take a quick inventory of the food and libations—the jasmine-infused mimosas, pre-portioned French toast dippers, and the salmon eggs Benedict platters, which are already looking a little picked over. All the while, I’m listening hard, trying to catch where the guests are on the agenda, and positioning myself just right to get the best view of the table.
We’ve transformed this outdoor space into a chic garden gathering straight out of a magazine. There’s a sprawling thirty-two-seat table nestled between the gardens, with a perfect blend of rustic charm and black-tie elegance. It’s modern, glamorous. The tablescape itself screams contemporary luxury—string lights suspended above, crisp white linens, taper candles, gold-rimmed glassware, floral-printed plates, and fresh blooms spilling from long-stem vases. And, of course, no upscale bridal shower is complete without those little towers of bite-sized cucumber sandwiches and flaky scones. Oh, and the simmering drama from the women in floor-length frocks, just waiting to boil over.
