Page 83 of The Trouble with Love and Ink
In another life, he was mine.
Another text came in while I ugly cried. I ignored it, rolling onto my side, trying to hold myself together with my arms because it felt like my heart was going to leak out through a gap between my ribs.
My phone buzzed again.
“God! What do you want?” I yelled at my phone.
Amanda had sent both texts.
We have a situation.
The other text was a picture of the five-foot mirror on which I’d made the seating chart. It had a crack from top to bottom.
“Oh, fuck,” I whispered into my hand. That piece had taken me hours.
She sent me another text.
Someone ignored the fragile labels on the box.
Yeah. No shit. My thumbs hovered over the phone, ready to text something akin to, Sorry to hear that. Best of luck! Because I had no interest in going back to that resort. I could all but picture running into Beck and Reagan—hand in hand. Or worse, making out in that hot tub like Kat and Jake had that first night at the resort.
But then I thought about Victoria. After all the deception, I owed it to her to make this right.
Me: I’m going to need masking tape, a level, an X-Acto knife, paper towels, Windex and white acrylic markers-chisel tip!
By the time I’d changed into something other than my panties and an oversized T-shirt, I had another text.
What’s your location? I’ll send a driver.
Chapter 24
Victoria set me up in a conference room in the resort and led me around a maze of boxes filled with wedding items: the hexagonal name plates I’d finished, glass bottles for the guests to cork their sand for a keepsake, mystery macrame pieces, and lanterns.
The new mirror was as large but not nearly as fancy as its predecessor. A rough wood bordered this mirror instead of the former gilded frame. It was probably the best they could do with the wedding so close. I wondered who’d been in charge of finding it at the last minute and imagined poor Amanda sobbing in a rental, driving down dirt streets in Costa Rica until she found a mirror large enough to fit the names of one hundred and forty-eight guests.
The original mirror lay sideways, propped against the wall. It looked as though someone had drawn a bolt of lightning down the length of it, splitting the canvas in two. My heart could relate.
“Here are your supplies,” Victoria said, indicating a plastic bag on the table. She looked back at me, but I dodged her eyes, knowing mine were puffy from all the crying I’d done. “Thank you for doing this. I want you to know I’m not mad about what happened. When I talked to Beck yesterday, I told him I wasn’t mad about that, not really.” She smoothed a hand down her skirt and then lifted her chin. “I wish the two of you had been upfront, but what really upset me was Beck keeping secrets. We don’t normally do that.”
That problem had been a main source of stress only a day ago. Knowing Victoria didn’t harbor resentment against my sister or me, something internal should have lifted, but my heartbreak over Beck felt too heavy.
“It’s a relief you’re not mad at me,” I said.
“But that’s not why you’re upset,” Victoria guessed.
I picked through the plastic bag, starting to unbox my acrylic markers. “You’re getting married tomorrow. I’m not dumping my issues on you.”
“Yes.” She squared her shoulders. “I am getting married tomorrow. And I’m not going to sleep tonight if I’m worried about my little brother.”
My ears perked up at that. What did he have to be upset about?
“Why don’t you ask him?”
I’d had Amanda print the document I’d made months ago with the sizing of the letters for the mirror. I taped it up, desperate to look anywhere besides Victoria’s face. She was the last person I wanted to have this conversation with.
“I’ve tried. He won’t answer my texts. He hasn’t been with the group. Every time someone goes to check on him, he’s not in his room.”
I shook a marker a little too aggressively. “Have you checked Reagan’s room?” As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them.
