Chapter 21 Liv
LIV
Istep back to assess our progress, brushing dirt from my hands as I survey the metal frame that Marcus delivered an hour ago.
The basic structure is elegant—wrought iron with delicate scrollwork.
Now, with layers of ivy and wild grape vines woven through the metalwork, it's starting to look beautiful.
"Can you hand me that longer piece of ivy?" I call to Blair, who's standing on a stepladder. "The one to your left."
She passes it down, and I wind it around the base of the arch, stepping back periodically to check the overall effect.
Behind us, the two florists are working at one of the round tables.
They've halved the watermelons and are inserting white roses and greenery directly into the bright red flesh.
The fruit holds the stems in place while keeping them hydrated—a trick I learned from a sustainability-focused wedding I planned last year.
"Those are going to be lovely," I say, watching one of the florists add the final touches to a centerpiece. "Especially when we add the lights."
The battery-powered string lights I sent Marcus to find will go inside each centerpiece, creating a soft glow over the table. They’re not the candelabras Emma originally planned, but it's certainly romantic.
Blair stretches to reach the highest point of the arch, her white t-shirt riding up to reveal a strip of tanned skin above her sweatpants. I catch myself staring and quickly look away.
Was I imagining things earlier, or did we almost kiss?
I could have sworn she was leaning closer.
I wanted her to. Even lingering embarrassment from last night can't take away that physical pull.
I'm sober and I still want to sleep with her.
It's not wine-fueled desperation now—it's a clear-headed attraction that I can't seem to shake.
Sex. That's all I want. Like an itch I need to scratch.
"Can I ask you something?" Blair's voice comes from above me.
I nod, continuing to weave ivy through the lower section of the arch. "Anything."
"Why weren't you Emma's wedding planner in the first place?"
The question stops me mid-motion. I've been anticipating this conversation, knowing it would come up eventually.
My hands still on the vine as I meet her eyes, and for a moment I consider giving her the easy answer—too busy, couldn't get away from work, scheduling conflicts.
All technically true, but not the whole truth.
I hesitate for a beat too long, and she notices. Blair seems to notice a lot.
"Between you and me, I don't believe in marriage," I finally say.
She frowns. "But you're a wedding planner."
"Yeah, but it's just a business for me." I shrug.
"And for most of my clients, it's often not much more than a transaction either.
Sure, sometimes there's real love involved, but even love is often an illusion.
People get caught up in the romance, the fantasy, the idea of forever. But statistics don't lie."
Blair climbs down from the ladder and regards me. "Are you saying you don't believe in love either?"
"Don't tell anyone. I don't think it would do my reputation much good if people knew that.
" I let out a sigh. "Look, Emma has fallen into the trap of marriage, and I struggle to support that.
I would never tell her as much—I was always going to be here with a smile—but to orchestrate it, to actually organize it, that was just a step too far for me.
Because she's my sister, and I love her. "
"But she seems genuinely happy with David," Blair says.
"Yeah, well, fifty percent of marriages end in divorce and the average marriage lasts eight years. And those are just the people who actually get divorced. How many couples stay together out of convenience, fear, or financial necessity while being miserable?"
I'm hiding behind numbers because they're safer than emotions. But Blair isn't buying it. She's watching me with those perceptive brown eyes, and I can see her putting pieces together.
"She hurt you, didn't she?" she says softly. "Andy?"
The blood drains from my face so fast that for a moment I can't breathe. "How do you know about Andy? Did Emma tell you?"
"No," Blair says. "You did. Last night. You cried."
Fuck. The missing pieces of last night finally slot into place. I mentioned Andy. While drunk and half-naked and throwing myself at Blair, I brought up the one person I never, ever talk about.
"I don't remember that," I lie, turning away from her, my hands shaking as I focus on the arch with renewed intensity.
"Liv." She presses on when I ignore her. "Liv, look at me."
Against my better judgment, I face her.
"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want," she says. "But I'm sorry someone hurt you so badly you lost all faith in love. I hope one day you'll find it again."
The kindness in her voice almost undoes me, and I press my lips together, fighting to keep my emotions in check.
"Andy was my fiancée," I hear myself saying, the words coming out before I can stop them.
"We were together for two years, engaged for six months.
I thought..." I shake my head, angry at myself for even starting this conversation.
"It doesn't matter what I thought. What matters is that I was wrong about everything. "
Blair doesn't push for more details, doesn't ask the obvious questions. She just waits, and somehow that makes it easier to continue.
"She was having an affair. With my maid of honor, Rachel.
I found out on our wedding day. I was in my wedding dress, about to walk down the aisle.
I went to use the bathroom at the venue and heard voices—Andy and Rachel.
Andy was telling her they had to stop, that she couldn't continue doing what they were doing because she was getting married to me.” I puff out my cheeks.
Rachel said, 'Don't say you don't love me,' and Andy said, 'I do love you.
But this is the choice I made. I'm marrying Liv today and we can't see each other anymore. '"
I laugh, but it comes out broken. "And then they went quiet, so I walked in. Found them kissing while sixty guests were seated and waiting for our fairy-tale ceremony to begin."
Blair's eyes go wide. "Jesus, Liv."
"I ran. Left her standing there in her suit, left all those people in their seats, left my parents to deal with the aftermath.
Got on a plane to New York the next morning and never looked back.
" I turn back to the arch and try to focus on the task at hand.
"That's when I learned that marriage is an expensive party that ends in expensive lawyers.
I was lucky to get out in time, and I'm not just talking about the marriage. I would have wilted away here."
I immediately regret my confession. This is exactly why I don't talk about Andy—because saying it out loud makes it real again, makes me feel like that devastated, humiliated woman, standing in a wedding dress while my world collapsed around me. It still hurts.
"I'm sorry," Blair says simply.
"Don't be. It taught me something valuable. Love is nothing but a chemical reaction that tricks people into making terrible decisions. And trusting someone completely just gives them better angles to destroy you from."
"So you decided to build a career around other people's delusions?" she asks. “That seems like a strange way to cope.”
"I didn't mean to," I say. "When I got to New York, I had to find work.
The only job I could get was in events management—a company that handled corporate parties, charity galas, and weddings.
It was so stressful that most event planners refused to do weddings, so they stuck me with those as I was the newbie. "
I pause, remembering those early days when every wedding felt like walking through a minefield of my own trauma.
"But the job forced me to compartmentalize it really well.
I just saw weddings as any other event—logistics, timelines, vendor management.
I took all the emotion out of it, treated love like a line item in a budget.
" I shrug. "Turns out that made me really good at it.
While other planners got caught up in the romance or stressed about the couple's happiness on the day, I just focused on execution. Perfect execution."
Blair is listening intently.
"I worked my ass off too. Long days, sleeping in the office during wedding season.
I threw myself into it so completely that I didn't have time to think about what had happened to me.
" I meet her eyes. "That combination—emotional detachment and relentless work ethic—made me one of the best wedding planners in the city.
Two years later, I started my own business.
I'm very good at creating fantasies because that's all they are. "
"Do you think Emma's wedding is a fantasy?" she asks.
I meet her eyes again, and this time I don't try to hide the pain.
"Emma is the most genuinely kind person I know.
She deserves to be happy today, even if I think she's setting herself up for heartbreak.
So I'll smile and help her have the perfect wedding day, and I'll pray that I'm wrong about everything.
Because if anyone deserves a fairy-tale ending, it's my sister.”