“Oops. We wouldn’t want anyone to hear, would we?” I smile, feeling diabolically satisfied. “Then again, everyone knowsIwasn’t the one caught with my pants around my ankles.”
She drags in a long breath, fidgeting with her hands.
I shrug, loving every moment of her discomfort. “I don’t know, Cornelia, maybe it’s not about me living my best life in my townhouse with my beautiful Lexus and Ebony Grace Events thriving—despite your weak attempts to sabotage me—while I plan your son’s wedding. Which is just diabolical.” I jerk up my eyebrows. “No,maybeit’s that I’m not your little puppet, or that I’m not staying in a ‘woman’s place.’ Isn’t that what you said to me once? I think you thought I’d give up on love and waste away without the Livingstons. And shocker, here I’m gloriously in love…”
Hey, sometimes the ex-wife takes a wedding-planning gig and falls in love with the venue preservationist.
A cloud passes over the sun and Cornelia’s whole face darkens, the shadows around her eyes deepening until she looks on the outside like the monster I know she is within.
Good God.
Then, just as I planned, with enough trash talking, she reacts.
“You’re right, I hired Benson Marks. He did such a great job for you, after all.” She runs her velvety fingers through her silvery-gray bouffant, looking genuinely vexed, as if her underhanded move is the same as my daring to hire a PI to confirm my suspicions of my husband doing dirt.
Yeah, okay…
Her voice is low, her self-satisfied little grin glowing with superiority as she inches closer to me. “Didyouthink I’d sit back and let you ruin my son’s life? My good name?” She swallows, her smile taut. “I had you watched, even way back in college. I knew the Bridges boy couldn’t stay away. He comes from weak stock.”
And there it is.
She still thinks she’s got thewinning hand.
For a moment, I let those words sink in.Weak stock.My head is scrambled with disbelief. In so many words, she’s just admitted everything Linc’s parents told him was true.
It’s the little joker.
I have to bite my tongue to keep from smiling. Instead, I take the bait between my teeth, contorting my face in false horror. Really, I should be a contender for an Oscar, for the role I’m playing.
“What?” I manage, shaking my head.
If I could cry on cue, it would be over for her.
“Yes, Ebony Grace, I paid a young kid to keep tabs on you then.” She lifts her chin as she whispers, “I won’t be blindsided. Ever. Of course I knew. That’s why I ensured Julian proposed the instant you returned to Ellswood.”
“You’re crazy…” I stumble, making my hands tremble. A little too much, though, so I have to reel in the dramatics a bit.
Movement in my periphery snags my attention. Just off her shoulder, I see Hailey and Hillary talking with jerky hand gestures before Hillary turns and starts walking swiftly in our direction.
All over again, it’s the switch-up.
Except this time, there’s no fire igniting in my chest, searing through my veins. I can breathe just fine because the spotlight is on them. A few dozen pairs of eyes are directed their way, and I’m the one holding the APPLAUD NOW cards.
And then I catch Cornelia’s expression.
That sneer.
“Maybe I’m a little crazy…” She giggles, and as wild as it is, she waves her hands in the air, like she’s relieved to finally admit it. “Every mother is, in one way or the other. But also, once you’ve been in this town long enough, that’ll happen.”
I nod, biding my time until Hillary is within earshot, taking in the dark, desperate brown eyes attached to the woman who betrayed me to bed my husband. Her tall, lean frame in a lavender satin dress with lace trim. I barely even recognize her.
There’s no Black Girl Magic and nineteen years of friendship bonding us. She isn’t my ride-or-die, who knew the dark places I went after the divorce, whose hugs and laughter were like a balm to my heart. No, my ventricle and vessel feels like it’s weighed down with a ton of bricks, and I hate that I want her to feel even a fraction of my pain.
Howcould she do this to me?
I’m confronting the truth. Proving that even in the face of betrayal and sabotage, I’m still standing.
I lean into Savannah’s advice, willing it to calm me down. I halfway expect an angry hiccup to spill out of me. The thing is, though, I’m not so much mad anymore as I am confused and disheartened. Still angry. Disappointed that our relationship has come down to this.
