Page 121 of Champagne Fizz

“And Kendall?” I ask.

“Your responsibility, man,” Connor says, pointing at me with his paper. “Girlfriend, or fuck-buddy, or whatever you want to call it, she’s your responsibility. Keep her as far away from Arie as possible.”

“You know they’ll inevitably see one another.” I motion to the restaurant. “This place isn’t very big. You think Kendall can decorate for a wedding without Arie breathing fire and pulling rank?”

“She can if you do your job, and I do mine,” Connor snaps, shaking his head. “You realize I also have to throw a bachelor party tonight, organize all this bullshit, and make sure my brother walks down the aisle on Saturday. I kind of have my hands full already, so the least you can do is keep Kendall in her lane.”

Right. I forgot about the bachelor party.

“Bachelor party’s at the Gin n’ Lava, right?” I ask. “Do you need help with that?”

“I need you to keep Kendall on the straight and narrow,” Connor answers. “Mason knows how to throw a tit-show, trust me. He’s been like a kid on Christmas morning planning it.”

“You know Ned’s going to blow a gasket,” I warn. “Especially if Mason’s in charge of the strippers.” I know how hard Connor worked to get Ned to attend his own birthday party, much less a bachelor party with exotic dancers involved.

“I plan on it,” Connor says, a wicked gleam in his eye. “Please don’t ruin this for me. It’s one of my great joys to torment my brother, particularly with tits and ass. This wedding was supposed to be fun, so please stop throwing grenades at me.”

“I wasn’t trying to—”

“We all think with our dicks sometimes,” Connor concedes. “I get it. But what I need, is for you to pretend your dick is broken—at least for the next few days—and promise me you’ve got this handled.”

“I’ve got this handled,” I say softly. If I know one thing for certain, it’s that my dick isn’t getting any action, so that won’t be a problem.

“You better.” Connor frowns. “Now piss off. You’ve hijacked my entire day already.” He motions to the storage closet he now has to clean.

I nod tersely and stalk down the hall.

Yup, a second location is starting to look real nice. Which means Ineedthis wedding inHollywood Bride. And I need it to look phenomenal. Not good. Not fine, but fucking out-of-this world.

All my entrepreneurial wheels start turning, and it feels like a fire has been lit under my ass—not the bad Arie-kind of fire, but the good-kind that means I’m excited and serious about this.

I’m dead serious.

33

KENDALL

Speeding away from Flambé, I look at my to-do list and try not to panic.

I have this under control. I’ve booked all the vendors. I’ve created the seating chart. My calligrapher has hand-inked two hundred antler bones with properly-spelled place cards. Becca is a maven with the florals, and I know my designs are top notch. You’re on top of this, Kendall. You’re a boss-witch who gets things done!

Still, I have a hundred things to pick up and double check in three days, including Ned’s suit and Olivia’s gown at the seamstress. An appointment that I’m currently late for. I punch in the address in my phone, and start weaving my two-door coupe through traffic. I remember Veronica West had a hundred minions to run these errands for her—me being one of them. I need to figure out how to afford an assistant. They say many hands make for light work, but when your planning fee barely covers your overhead costs … well, you learn how to juggle like your career depends on it.

I just have to trust that Simon will hold up his end of the bargain and Flambé will be ready. Except, trusting Simon is a recipe for a panic attack. He couldn’t be trusted with my body, or my secrets. Why the heck would he pull through when it comes to my career and business?

I laugh as a cruel thought runs through my head: I can trust Simon with this wedding because he caresmoreabout his business than he does about me. Looking good inHollywood Bridematters more to him than his betrayal. I’m disposable, but his business isn’t.

The truth stings.

His relationship with Arie and their restaurant is a long-term commitment. I’m just the flavor of the month—the saccharine yellow marshmallow that’s too sweet on the tongue. Spit me out and leave me in the trash with all the other unpalatable candy.

Focus on your bride and groom, I tell myself. Your personal life needs to be kept separate. Sue Blade says, “Balance is not better time management, but better boundary management.” And boy, do I need to construct boundaries of steel. Boundaries of brick and diamonds!

A car honks behind me, indicating I’ve sat at the light too long. I wave politely and put my car in gear, only to have my phone ring just as the angry car swerves around me, making less-than-kind hand gestures in my direction.

“Have a nice day,” I call out in a mockingly-sweet tone as I click accept on my phone. “May your day be fast and furious and fuzzingly wonderful!” I turn to my phone. “Weddings with Hart, this is Kendall speaking.”

“Where are you?!” An angry voice snaps on the other end.

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