Page 26 of Give In

Maybe there’s a chance the Heath I’ve known for the past twenty-four hours is—as Kiki is implying—not the man he really is.

But somehow I doubt it. I think Kiki’s “full picture” is a load of bullshit. Maybe she was too selfish to see the man he was when she had him or maybe she just can’t stand the thought of him finding happiness with someone else. Or maybe she’s just the kind of person can’t stand it when the focus is on someone else.

I’m sure she would love to see this ‘tête-à-tête of ours end with me in humiliated tears and with the spotlight away from Juniper.

Too bad. Neither of those things is going to happen. Not on my watch. Nothing is getting in the way of my sister’s wedding day.

Besides, I’m looking forward to getting to know Heath myself.

“That’s really thoughtful of you,” I say, and I mean it pleasantly and I mean it to land, and I can see from the slight shift behind her eyes that it does. “I appreciate you looking out for me.”

She blinks. Reassembles. “Of course. I just know how he can be.”

“I’m sure you do.” I smile. “Can I get you a mimosa?”

It’s not a victory exactly. It’s more of a draw, which with a woman like Kiki I am choosing to count. She takes the mimosa and drifts away toward the window, and I turn back to the room and find Emma looking at me from the settee with an expression of open appreciation.

She raises her glass slightly. I raise mine back.

Lizzie leans over and says quietly, “Well handled.” She glances around the room, then lowers her voice even more. “I’ve only met her a couple of times, but she does love to stir up trouble. All in the name of attention. Much like my toddler.”

That makes me chuckle.

I feel pretty good. I feel, in fact, quite excellent. I handled a thing. I stayed. I did not call 9-1-1 and flee the scene.

And then Kiki, who has drifted to stand near Juniper while Pilar finishes her makeup, says something.

I don’t catch all of it. I catch the shape of it. Something about whirlwind romances. Something about these things said in a tone that classifies these things as a category of mistake. Something about the best intentions and so young that lands in the vicinity of my sister’s face while my sister is sitting in her wedding dress forty-five minutes before she marries the man she loves.

I set my mimosa down on the nearest surface.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

My voice comes out different than it was before. Not loud. Not hot. Just very clear and very direct, stripped of all the pleasant social padding I had deployed up until this moment. Every head in the room turns.

Kiki turns too. She looks mildly surprised, which satisfies me.

“Did you just suggest that my sister’s marriage is a mistake?”

“I was simply⁠—”

“Because I want to make sure I understood you correctly.” I cross the room, not quickly, not with any drama, just steadily, until I am close enough that this conversation is clearly between us and not for the room. “Juniper is the most level-headed person I’ve ever met. I trust her judgment implicitly. While I haven’t known Leo for long, I’ve seen him with my sister and there are no doubts as to how he feels about her. No, they haven’t known each other for long, but time only measures time. It doesn’t measure anything else.” I hold Kiki’s gaze and I do not look away. “So if you have something to say about her choices, on her wedding morning, in her bridal suite, I am genuinely curious what you think gives you the standing to say it. Is it the length of your first marriage? Or perhaps the sheer number of husbands you’ve had?”

Am I being kind? Absolutely not. But you do not go after my sister. It is the only time I release my claws.

The room is very quiet.

Kiki looks at me for a long moment. The careful, beautiful face doesn’t crack exactly, but something behind it shifts.

“I meant no offense,” she says. Which is not the same as an apology and we both know it.

“Great,” I say. “Then we’re all good.”

I pick my mimosa back up. My hand is completely steady, which surprises me, because my heart is going at approximately twice its normal rate.

Rebecca, from her position at the window, makes a small sound that might be a cough or might be something else entirely. When I glance at her, she is looking out at the beach with an expression of perfect composure, except for the fact that she’s grinning like a fool.

Juniper catches my eye in the mirror.