Page 83 of Puck Yes

Stefan sets a now washed-and-dried blender back on the counter with a satisfied grin. “Fucking well is the best revenge.”

He’s not wrong, especially when Hayes sets down his mug and comes to the door. “By the way, when you’re at this meeting, I’m going to jerk off to those pictures of you. So…feel free to picture that.”

I drop off Roxy at home, then head to the meeting, certain I’ll have a hard time thinking of anything else.

32

THE EX AMBUSH

Ivy

October in San Francisco is one of the hottest months of the year, so here I go, in this sleeveless top. It’s the opposite of Simone’s retro rockabilly style. I’m verynow, and I need this fashion armor as I meet her and my ex in a boba shop.

I’d rather not see either one of them, but I’m trying to approach this meeting as a reporter. She’s simply someone I’m covering, and so is he. I grab the door handle and prepare to meet the woman who used to be my mentor.

How did I miss all the signs that I couldn’t trust her? Or…the man by her side at the pristine white table in the corner of the shop?

Xander’s dressed in plaid pants and suspenders and wearing a fake-ass smile to go with his equally fake horn-rimmed glasses.

I stride over to their table, plastering on a faker smile. “Hi, Simone. Hello, Xander.”

“Hey, girl!” she says cheerily, waving her bejeweled hand at me, the engagement diamond sparkling like fire. It matches the silvery shade of her headband, holding back all those blond locks. He’s the Ken to her Barbie. Well, he’s a hipster Ken.

Xander clears his throat. “Hi, Ivy. You’re looking very professional.”

Can you sayunderhanded dig?

“Thanks,” I say evenly as my gaze strays to a…jar on the table that appears to be full of yeast and stuff. “You brought…your sourdough starter?”

He clutches the glass lovingly. “Salinger,” he says with obvious pride. There must be a warp in the time-space continuum. Did he actually name that thing he was growing when I was with him?

Xander confirms what I didn’t ask. “He needed a name.”

And a gender? “The sourdough starter is ahe? And you carry him around?” I can’t not ask.

“It’s safer that way for Salinger,” Xander says, gripping the jar more tightly. “Simone’s cat likes to knock things over.”

My stomach twists. What did I ever see in him? I can never date for real again until I diagnose the problem with my taste. I put that on my mental to-do list as I go to the counter to order a brown sugar milk tea. Once Simone and Xander’s drinks are ready, too, we sit back down, and I open up a notebook and uncap a pen.

“What do you want me to know about the wedding?” I ask, eager to get down to business. “I’d love to do a preview for my…newsletter and my social.” I don’t even want to tell them my handle. They’d probably mock me for my paltry number of followers. They’d break out their artisanal ice cubes, drop them in their small-batch cocktails garnished with edible flowers, and laugh atlittle me. And yet, I swallow my pride, then add, “And for you, Simone.”

After all, a deal’s a deal.

Simone brightens. “Yes, let’s talk about the big day.” She chatters on about what she’ll be wearing, and when she’ll reveal it to her one million followers, and I take notes in the purple notebookmy husbandgave me.

That gives me a little zing.

When Simone’s done talking, I set down my pen. “That all sounds—”

Xander points at my left hand like I’m wearing a spider. “Your ring. What happened?Howdid that happen?”

Like me being married is differential calculus. And for a second, I hesitate to say anything. But Hayes is wearing his ring, his teammates know, and it’s only a matter of time before word gets out beyond the Avengers. It’ll happen soon enough at the upcoming golf event.

“Well, I met this guy—”

“I just can’t believe you’re marriedalready.”

Ohhh. Right. He can move on while he’s with me, but I ought to mourn The Dapper Man till the end of time. I square my shoulders. “Yes.Already. It was a whirlwind romance because when you know, you know, right? I’m married to Hayes Armstrong on the Avengers,” I say, sitting up straighter, owning it. “My plus-one at your wedding, as a matter of fact. You might have heard of him. The hotshot new hockey star in town.”

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