Page 110 of One Wealthy Wedding

Retaking means I wouldn’t be done with my degree for over two years. The company might be gone by then, sucked dry by my father and Arnold Worth the Fourth.

I’m sorry, Mom.

I drag myself home and compose emails to the board members of Peterson International, even though I just want to nap. Each one says some version of the same thing:

He’s ruining the company.

I’m the better choice.

I refresh my email for the rest of the day, but I don’t get a single response.

The bar is packed with Royals fans that night, and our shift is brutal. I’m grateful for the work and the way it keeps my brain quiet. And if I’m honest, I’m grateful for the way Blair took one look at my face and demanded we do shots before our shift.

But now we’re slammed, and I’m feeling the effects of the tequila. It doesn’t help that Blair’s arm is in a sling and she can’t use her left hand. I’m making cocktails while she’s pouring beers at half her normal speed.

“Is this going to affect the show?” I ask her as I make yet another vodka soda. I’ll never be able to drink one again after working here.

“The sling is a precaution. They have us doing some crazy dance that requires us to swing a partner under our legs. After a hundred reps, shit happens.” She lifts her uninjured shoulder. “I can’t afford an overuse injury. Belinda has a cold, so I think I’ll actually have to perform this week and next.” She rotates her shoulder and winces. “Ideally, I’d have two weeks off for recovery and performing, but—” She shrugs and winces again. “It is what it is. Maybe Joey can cover my shifts?”

“I can do it,” Daryl offers.

“No,” Blair and I say at the same time.

Daryl is an excellent barback, but he’s way too sweet and innocent to do the closing shifts like Blair does on Saturday nights.

“We love you, but no,” she repeats. “It’s for your own good.”

“Fine.” He rolls his eyes and goes to grab yet another keg. We’re tapped out again.

“I’ll ask Joey,” Blair says. “And then, I don’t know.” She chews her lip. “You can’t cover me, right? You have class.”

I nod. And events with Theo. “I can skip it. I haven’t missed any classes this semester.”

“No. Definitely not. They dock your grades for that, right?”

“They do. And Professor Singh and Professor O’Ryan are sticklers.”

“Not an option, then. I’ll figure it out.” Blair is playing it cool, but she’s worried. She’s been waiting for eight months for a chance to open the show. This is her moment, and I want to make it perfect for her. I’ll talk to Joey and Daryl and see what we can do.

“We’ll figure it out together,” I tell her. She shoots me a grateful smile, before I bend down to check the tap lines.

“How much light beer can one bar full of sports fans consume?” We’re already pouring foam. “Daryl better hurry.”

“What’s eating you?” Blair asks, as I mess with the tap line.

“Is it that obvious?” I stand.

“Yeah. I mean, you’re not sunshine and roses, but frankly, neither am I, and I know when something is brewing.” She tilts her head and watches me as I lean against the back of the bar, careful not to disturb the flavored vodka bottles.

“I’m failing one of my classes.”

“Shit,” she says. “I thought you were doing okay this semester.”

“I was.” I sigh. “The whole marriage thing has been distracting. First there was the partying, and then we had to go to events, and then—”

“What?”

I check to make sure no one is listening before I lower my voice and say, “I came way too close to sleeping with Theo.”

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