Page 132 of Champagne Fizz

I smile. I wasn’t talking about me, but the fact that she thinks I was reveals more than she realizes.

“The wedding,” I say, not giving into the indulgence that she’s here because she wants to keep tabs on me. There’s no way that line of thinking leads to anything but Kendall even more pissed off. “You know Ned won’t cheat.”

“Do I?”

She’s grasping for straws.

“You do,” I nod, not letting her brush me off. “Tell me what’s really wrong.” Her eyes darken, because obviously there’s a lot wrong—particularly between us—and everything I say seems to be a double-edged sword for her. “Hey, I want this wedding to be perfect, too,” I press.

I do.

In fact, I need it to be if I’m serious about taking over a franchise on the mainland.

“Tell me why you’re lurking in the shadows at Ned’s bachelor party,” I ask again. “If you were actually freaked out about him doing something shady, you’d be inside the Gin n’ Lava chaperoning.”

Her face drains of color, and for a second, I wonder if she actually did go in and watch earlier. Of course, with those half-naked mermaids and luau-dancers undulating, her body wouldn’t have been able to handle it. Despite how unruly and vile she thinks the show is, her body would have a different, more primal reaction. I know her body well enough now to understand that’s a fact.

“You didn’t go in,” I conclude. “I can read you too well now.” Her eyes cut to me, not liking that. “Fess up. What’s really going on?”

Her shoulders slack, all the pomp and fight deflating out of her. “Ned’s mother is here,” she says finally, walking over to one of the empty tables and sitting down.

“Here?” I point into the bar, confused.

“No! Gosh no!” Kendall squeaks. “She’s here on the island. At the Atlantis. I picked her up from the airport this afternoon.”

“And that’s bad?”

“Unfortunately,” she confesses. “I grossly misjudged what kind of woman she would be, and if there’s one thing that would actually make Ned bail on this wedding, it’s his parents.”

“Damn,” I say in solidarity. “His dad’s not here, is he? His dad really screwed him over.”

“No, he’s not here. Thank goodness.” Kendall’s eyes flair, imagining the avalanche that would be the whole Voss family attending the wedding. “I thought it would be a brilliant idea for Ned’s parents here,” she says, her tone defeated. “Who doesn’t want their parents at their wedding? I thought I was doing him a favor. I thought I was doing something important, and helping Ned to have no regrets. But after meeting Mrs. Voss this afternoon, I’m starting to wonder if inviting her is what will actually cause this wedding to implode.”

“Wanting his parents here wasn’t a bad instinct,” I say, walking over and sitting in the chair opposite her. “You want families to be together.”

“Because I’m a naive romantic!” she chides herself.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a romantic,” I defend. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting Ned to have his family at his wedding. That’s a beautiful gesture, Kendall.”

“Only, I wasn’t thinking about Ned when I did it. I was thinking about me!” She balls up her hands in frustration. “I was thinking about what would make this wedding extra special—only my version of special, not his. I wanted desperately to prove to myself that I’m not my old boss, Veronica West. That I’m not a heartless wedding-factory who only cares about trends and décor. I wanted to prove I could do something she couldn’t. And what better way to do that than to bring a family back together at their son’s wedding?”

“Weddingsareabout families,” I support. “Though I see your point. You can’t force a family to heal just because vows are being exchanged.”

“Precisely.” She frowns. “So now I’m stalking my client and playing babysitter because I’m scared to death he’s going to bump into his mother in the next few days and ka-boom!”

Ah. That explains why she’s here.

“This is an awful way to run a business,” she gripes. “Sue Blade says to be accountable, and I’m trying to be”—she motions to the hooting in the other room—“but I’m afraid I’m not going to sleep and I’m going to forget all the other things I still need to get done, and Arie’s going to throw some crazy wrench at me during the reception, and despite all my efforts, Ned will still bump into his mom—because their hotel rooms are literally right next to each other, I couldn’t change them—and everything’s going to fall apart.”

“Those are all legitimate fears,” I say, trying to validate her. “But Kendall, you don’t have to do this alone.”

“The business is called Weddings with Hart,” she says, exacerbated. “Hart as in singular, as in one Hart: me.”

“Then ask for help.”

“I can’t afford help,” she growls. “Proving I’m not so great at this entrepreneur thing.”

“Some of us aren’t charging.”

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