Chapter 24
I wake up already feeling the weight of my actions, before I even have breakfast. I’m not even sure I deserve it at this point. Food, coffee, or any other pleasure in life.
I stayed up until about two in the morning helping Mila finish her vows, and trying to convince her to let go of her obsessive need for control, instead of trying to figure out what Robbie wrote in his vows before the right time.
Well, at least now Mila thinks Robbie is just trying to cover his best friend’s ass because of some million-dollar bet instead of, you know, cheating on her with someone named Samantha, so the vows are much calmer, more romantic, and more loving than they would’ve been if I hadn’t made something up just to calm her down. Amen!
When I went back to my room, I noticed the light in Jasper’s room was off, so I actually slept in my own bed this time.
Except I didn’t sleep. I spent the whole night searching for alternatives to my now very real unemployment.
I don’t know if I’m entitled to anything after telling my boss to shove my salary straight up his ass, so I had to do the math to know how long I have before needing to steal Robbie’s uncle’s credit card.
Or become his fifth wife. Or, the worst option yet, ask my parents for help.
If I start walking more instead of paying for transportation, and cut down on late-night Chinese takeouts, I get a total of four months. The problem is that, if I don’t find anything by then, I’ll have to start selling my furniture. Or pictures of my feet, whichever comes first.
I’ve already thought a thousand times about begging Mr. Kyle for my job back once I’m back in New York.
But, I have to admit, Jasper is right: those six years at the Chronicles were pure complacency.
I stayed because I knew I was good at that job.
And the second I step outside my comfort zone, I might find out I’m the worst sports journalist of all time and Columbia University is going to deeply regret giving me a scholarship.
Until now, I wasn’t willing to find out the truth.
The difference is that now I am. I just have no idea where to start.
The only thing staying up all night did for me was give me huge dark circles under my eyes. Which, by the way, is the worst day ever for that, because today is the rehearsal dinner in our garden.
I never really understood the concept of a wedding rehearsal, considering the only thing to do at the wedding itself is, you know, walk down the aisle, wait for the people to say what they have to say, hold back the tears so you don’t ruin your makeup, let the groom kiss the bride, and all that…
Everyone already knows how a wedding works.
So any kind of “rehearsal” just feels like an excuse to spend more money on food and drinks – mostly drinks – and, of course, another opportunity to wear a new pink dress.
But let’s be honest, just because I don’t understand the concept, it doesn’t mean I’m exempt from the never-ending list of tasks assigned by the happy couple.
So the moment I reach the last step of the stairs and see the chaos spreading across the living room and kitchen, I know I’m gonna need a coffee.
The pool is off-limits, and only the decoration team can go near it this morning.
The kitchen is full of trays and tablecloths, and it smells incredible. But it’s also off-limits. No one is allowed to eat anything being prepared in there.
Well, at least I got my coffee before being kicked out, and now I have my mug in hand as I go look for someone to help me figure out what I’m supposed to do to help.
According to the schedule, I should already be at the venue with the other bridesmaids, preparing the bridal suite and making sure Catrina, the wedding planner, is keeping everything in place.
That was supposed to be at nine. It’s ten.
So I’m almost sure they went without me.
The groomsmen were supposed to be there too, assisting with the stage setup and sound check, which now I suspect has something to do with Boyce Avenue.
So it’s weird, for both me and Mila, when Jasper shows up at the exact same time I do.
“What are you doing here?” we both ask at the same time.
“Where are the bridesmaids?” I ask Mila.
“They’ve already gone to the venue. I let you sleep a little longer,” she says, in a sweet tone she has used very little since we arrived in Cancún.
And that’s how I know this isn’t because I stayed up late helping her with her vows. It’s because I lost my job.
“And why aren’t you with the groomsmen?” she demands from Jasper, without even pretending to be polite.
He scratches the back of his neck.
“Funny story…”
“What did you do?” Mila doesn’t even let him finish.
She’s holding a stack of linen napkins that still need to be folded and put through personalized bronze rings, and she shakes everything with impatience, letting half the rings fall and clink on the floor.
“Don’t panic,” Jasper says, cautious. And he must be insane if he thinks that’s the right thing to say to a bride the day before her wedding.
“You saying that already makes me panic! Spit it out!”
“The bakery just called. Their car broke down and they can’t deliver the cake...”
Terrible, terrible information to give a bride the day before her wedding.
“So I said I’d go pick it up myself,” he finishes.
Mila ordered the cake in Mérida, the capital of Yucatán, practically on the other side of the peninsula, because, according to her, Cancún cakes are tacky and made for cliché tourists. And if there was one thing in her wedding that wouldn’t be cliché, it was the cake.
“That’s a three-hour drive!” she exclaims, already about to list all the logistical problems, which are also perfectly clear to me now that I’m starting to feel the magical powers of caffeine.
“I know. But they said everything will be ready, and they’ll protect the cake at all costs,” Jasper adds quickly, with his persuasive lawyer tone. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll handle everything.”
Which, knowing Mila, means she absolutely will worry.
Her gaze jumps from him to me. The napkins shake again, even more rings fall as she whips her head back toward him.
“Take Julie with you.”
“Julie?” Jasper repeats, making a face.
I narrow my eyes. I truly don’t understand anything. I think I need to catch up on the whole eight full hours of sleep thing, ‘cause my brain is starting to malfunction.
“You’re not going to pick up my wedding cake in Mérida alone, Jasper. You’re taking Julie.”
I raise my hand in the air like a student asking to go to the bathroom.
“Does Julie get a say in this?”
“Of course she does. She can let this idiot go to Mérida alone and ruin a four-thousand-dollar cake the day before her best friend’s wedding,” the bridezilla snaps. “Totally up to her.”
I turn to Jasper. He doesn’t seem offended at all by being called an idiot. He actually looks relaxed, as if everything is going perfectly fine.
Maybe the bastard really does need help bringing the cake back. Because he alone is a disaster.
So no, I don’t have a choice. Even if I desperately wanted one, I’m not arguing with Mila. Not today.
I would lose anyway.
“What time are you leaving?” I ask him.
“Now.”
“Now?” I exclaim, remembering how awful I look and how I need at least a few minutes to seem remotely presentable. “Seriously, Jasper, what the hell!?”
“See?” he tells Mila, pointing at me like a tattletale. “She doesn’t want to go.”
Mila shakes her dish towels again.
Clink! Clink! Clink! More rings everywhere.
“I’ll go! I’ll go!” I rush out before anyone drops dead from stress.
Could be me. Could be her.
Finally, one of the venue assistants arrives to help her with the napkins, and the two of them kneel down to pick up the rings.
“Just let me go change.”
Jasper uses the moment Mila is bent over to step close to me, lowering his voice to a whisper, “Bring your bikini.”
“What?” I whisper back.
Mila stands. Hands the assistant a handful of rings. Then crouches again.
“Don’t ask questions. Just grab your bikini…” he takes a good look at my sunburned chest“… your sunscreen, and meet me in the garage.”
Finally, Mila stands for good, balancing all the napkins and rings in her arms, and I go up the stairs to get changed, still dazed enough that I can’t fully process the fact I’m going to Mérida to pick up a wedding cake that costs more than all the money in my bank account right now.
I find Jasper in the garage exactly ten minutes later, I’m now wearing a summer dress, with my bikini shoved inside my bag. I don’t even know what’s happening, but honestly? I’m not in the mood for questions today. Not to Mila. Not to Assman. Whatever they tell me, I’ll just agree.
I’m just moving through life on autopilot until I can actually solve my own problems and think about anything else.
He’s already in the car, AC on. This time, I can’t even argue about who gets to drive. And who knows, maybe that way I’ll manage to nap on the road.
It takes me fifteen full minutes. Fifteen minutes in the car, in silence, before I find the strength to speak.
We’re stuck in the typical hotel-zone traffic: tourists crossing everywhere, buses and vans unloading passengers, rental-car drivers who have no idea how traffic laws work in another country. Just another normal day in Cancún.
The GPS isn’t even set to Mérida. The little green dot at the end of the route points to somewhere in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by thick forest, near Valladolid.
And guess what? Valladolid is deep in the peninsula. No beaches anywhere near it, so why the hell did I bring my bikini?
My survival instincts are clearly telling me I’m being kidnapped to God-knows-where and I haven’t even blinked. But, at the same time, I’m almost sure Jasper wouldn’t kidnap me. Because that would require him to spend way more time next to me than he can physically tolerate.
It would drive us both insane.
“We’re not going to pick up the cake in Mérida, are we?” I ask, bored.