Sweet Cheeks(30)

Is that why I’m sitting here cowering in disbelief instead of standing up and telling them to go to hell?

I hate that I don’t know the answer.

“He’s definitely better off without her.” Squeaky sighs out loud and I swear I can hear her eyes rolling with the sound.

“Right? They never fit together in the first place. The funny thing is people like her would kill to live the life Mitch could have provided.”

People like her? My blood boils and body vibrates at the insult that I wear proudly like a badge. I don’t want to be anything like them if this is the kind of person they expected me to be.

“So stupid on her part. Something has to be wrong with her. I mean, she’ll never get a chance again at a catch like him.”

“That’s the truth. Could you imagine how embarrassing that was for Mitch? And for his family to be rejected by trash? Good riddance.” Nasal draws the last word out.

My fist clenches on the pen in my hand. Cupcake girl across the aisle is oblivious of the decimation of my character and criticism of the crumbs she’s licking from the tips of her fingers.

“Not to mention the amount of money in deposits his family probably lost on the vendors because, you know, she didn’t care. She was originally from the valley so you know her family wasn’t paying for it.”

A snort that doesn’t fit their upper crust, snooty tones. “Most definitely not.”

“Good thing karma’s kicking her in the ass for it.”

And I’ve got to give it to Nasal because she just gave me whiplash with that comment.

“Wait! What do you mean by karma? Are you holding out on me, Tish?” Squeaky asks, now giving Nasal a name that is familiar but that I can’t quite put a face to.

“Not really. Just chatter I heard from the ladies at The Club. I guess Saylor started her bakery with the understanding that Mrs. Layton was going to encourage her friends to hire her to cater the desserts at their never-ending events.” I can all but see their lips forming into smug smiles.

Seriously? That’s the bullshit Uptight Ursula is telling people?

“Yeah, but since she left him and called off the wedding—”

“Thank goodness,” Squeaky interrupts.

“Totally. Think of the bullet he dodged with that one. Marrying someone that’s not one of us? What was he thinking? But back to my story. I guess since the breakup, rumor from one of her suppliers whose dad knows one of Mrs. Layton’s house staff, is that business has slowed down considerably. Like making-no-profit slow.”

“Oh, poor thing.” Her laugh is pompous as I blink rapidly trying to figure out where the hell they’re getting this shit. I am the supplier. Me and my weekly runs to Costco. “Go back to how the other half lives, sweetheart.”

“God, yes. Leave the upper class alone, little girl.”

“No matter, I’m sure once Momma Layton is done badmouthing her, she’ll have to shut her doors.”

“Good riddance.”

“Agreed. You ready?”

“Of course. Saks Fifth Avenue is calling my name.”

Their voices fade off as they leave and I sit where I am. Stunned. Deflated. Furious.

That conversation was not a plant. Ryder would never go that far. I’d rather be wrong. Rather think that vapid, shortsighted people like them don’t exist in the world.

But it wasn’t.

They were real and they exist.

My hands tremble. Heated tears burn in my eyes because I’m pissed at myself for not telling them both to go to hell. For not standing up for myself and making a huge scene to make them feel like the shallow *s they are. The problem is I’m so upset—so flustered—that even if I had turned around and said something, I know it would have come out a jumbled mess and made me look like the fool they were saying I am. Disgrace burns bright and it’s aimed one hundred percent at me for failing to find a backbone.

Their insipid comments repeat in my head. Their suppositions. Their judgments. Their everything.

So I do the only thing I can–my temper on fire, my mind dazed by its smoke. I dig in my purse until I find my phone. My fingers hit the wrong button several times as I fumble for the number. The one I recently entered in my contacts but swore I’d never use.

The phone rings. My body vibrates with a shame I shouldn’t feel, with an anger I own wholeheartedly, and with the notion that I was the na?ve one thinking Ryder’s assumptions were wrong.

“Ships Ahoy?” He sounds as surprised to be receiving my phone call as I am in making it.

“I need your help, Hayes. Offer accepted.”





What am I doing?

Dread over my decision filled me on the plane. The memory of Hayes’s words about my temper and the situations it gets me in taunted me. So I forced myself to sleep. To remember the catty words of the women at Starbucks. To hold on to the notion that I’m going to save my business. My passion. My dignity.

The one Ryder helped me fund.

Is this really worth it?

Doubt increased with each step through the airport on the way to the baggage claim. Horrible scenarios played out in my mind. Ones with me losing the nerve to attend the outdoor ceremony, turning to flee in the moments before Rebound Sarah walks down the aisle, and running smack dab into Mitch. Like literally body against body so we both fall backward, me landing on top of him, my dress over my head, Spanx-covered ass in plain view for all the guests to see. Or of me walking into the reception, tripping and falling head first into the cake. All the guests turning to see me stand up, face covered in icing.