26. Who Let the Kat In?
EVA
After showering and getting dressed, I head over to Skye’s for coffee because she makes it really good. I’m riding high with the memory of West’s hands tracing my skin last night, his lips searing heat through every inch of me.
But I really hope no one important saw him and me, and I really need Skye’s advice. When I go through the adjoining door, the dogs go nuts, so I take a seat to pet each one, and before I can ask her anything, there’s a knock on her front door.
“Glad you’re here, we have an interrogation on the books—” She glances at her phone.
“Huh?”
“Brielle.” Skye hands me a cup of coffee, and after I thank her, I look around the room. Indeed, it is set up for an interrogation: a lamp shines brightly over the armchair and the curtains are drawn.
“Here she is.” Skye answers it and ushers Brielle in.
Brielle’s wide eyes dart around the room as if she’s casing the joint for a quick escape route.
“Take a seat, Brielle.” Skye points to the chair, her tone light but carrying an edge. The air is thick with the scent of conspiracy and hairspray.
Brielle, smart, doesn’t sit in the chair and, instead perches on the edge of the couch, holding her clutch. “Okay, what’s this about?” Her voice is wary, like she’s ready to bolt.
How did Skye get Brielle to agree to come? She’s good.
“Relax, we’re not the mob.” Skye doesn’t sit either.
The creases of concern etch deeper into Brielle’s forehead. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“Look, you’re here because Zach invited you, right? Or is there another reason?” My words are casual, but they hang heavy in the air.
“Zach and I go way back.” Her fingers fidget with the strap of her purse. “He’s an old friend. Is it so bizarre I’d come to his wedding?”
“Old friends are like vintage wine—complex and full of surprises,” Skye says.
“Okay, seriously, why am I being interrogated?” Brielle’s spine straightens as she braces herself.
“Let’s just say we’re ensuring every guest is here to celebrate, not stir the pot.” I lean back into the cushions, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Stir the pot?” Brielle echoes, her eyebrows knitting together. “You think I’m here to sabotage the wedding or something?” She glances at the wall. “Oh my God, you do! That’s me up there on your wall. And that’s such a bad picture!”
Skye puts a clipboard in front of Brielle’s face. “Exhibit A: a picture of the child with you on Memorial Day. Freckles across the nose. Zach has freckles across the nose.”
Brielle’s mouth pops open, and I swear I can hear the cogs in her brain grinding to a halt. Her purse strap goes limp in her grasp. “You think I’m here to drop some Maury Povich-style truth bomb at the altar?” A laugh bursts from her lips, high-pitched and incredulous. “That’s some telenovela-level drama, but no, Skye.” Brielle whips out her phone and scrolls through her pictures. “Exhibit B, my sister, the child’s mother, with the child and the child’s father, who also has freckles across the nose.”
“Oh.” Skye looks down.
Whoops. Schooled.
“Look. I’m just here to see an old friend get hitched. No hidden agendas. Are you kidding me?” There’s a sincerity in her voice that makes me believe her.
Plus, I like Brielle. A lot.
“Oh, sorry.” My tone’s drenched with guilt. Poor Brielle, the nice person she is, now hates us.
“We’re a little protective of the groom,” Skye adds.
“Listen, I get it.” Brielle holds her hands up in a gesture of peace. “Weddings make everyone a little nutty. But I’m just here for the free booze and to maybe catch the bouquet.” She winks, but there’s a tightness around her eyes.
“Then help us out,” I plead, straightening up. The last thing I need is another wild goose chase. “We’ve been killing ourselves trying to track down whoever’s got it in for this wedding. And they are really making a mess of things.”
“I see.” There’s a knowing look in Brielle’s eyes, like she’s the wise oracle and we’re just mortals floundering for truth. “You want a name? Look into Kat.”
“Kat.” I groan. “Why do you say that?”
“She was pretty devastated when Zach dumped her.” Brielle’s voice lowers.
I gasp. “She’s Zach’s ex?”
Skye is rubbing her forehead. “How did I miss that? I’m losing my touch.”
“You two didn’t know? Yes, she is. And let’s just say her invite to this shindig raised a few eyebrows—including mine.”
“Thanks, Brielle.” A flush of relief—and embarrassment—heats my cheeks. “And sorry for the third degree.”
“Girl, it’s fine.” Brielle waves off the apology, already halfway to the door. “But if you really wanna thank me, how about making sure I’m seated next to Hayes’s camera station? He’s fine.”
“Oh, he’s my ex-stepson. Great kid.” Skye nods. “You two would be cute together.”
“Deal,” I say, my mind already spinning with the new intel. As Brielle exits, I turn to Skye, determination lighting a fire within me. “Looks like we’ve got a step-mommy to investigate.”
“Damn straight.”
As if Paige somehow reads my mind, she barrels into Skye’s room; her face twisted in panic. “Kat is Zach’s ex!”
“What?” Skye and I say in unison, playing dumb.
Paige flies in and flops down next to me on the couch. All the dogs move to her lap, and I actually feel a little sad. I thought at least Balls would stay with me. “This morning Zach and I were talking, and I mentioned what our dad could possibly have in common with Kat. Zach said they both love Fruity Pebbles.”
“Oh, yeah. I remember that.” Skye nods, sitting in the chair across from us. “He’s gotta have those.”
Paige pets Coco Chanel. “I asked Zach how he knew that, and he admitted that he ‘hooked up’ with Kat last year. For ten months.”
“Ten months?” I rub her back.
“Yeah. Met at the country club.” She stares out the window, her eyes misting. “I’m getting married, and instead of Mom being here, it’s Kat. Zach’s stupid ex.”
“Oh, P. I’m so sorry.” I pull her into a side hug.
Paige waits for a long moment before she whispers, “I did something.”
I hesitate, not sure I’m up to having the weight of Paige’s latest secret on my shoulders. But she clearly needs help, so I step away. “What did you do?”
“It wasn’t terrible.” She inhales, hesitating. “I just came from Dad and Kat’s room. Dad was down getting breakfast, so I told Kat to leave. But it doesn’t even matter because she said no.”
Now I give her hand a squeeze. I want Kat to leave too, especially if she’s the one screwing with this wedding. But trying to make Paige feel better, I say, “I know it’s hard, Paige, but if Kat leaves, it’ll crush Dad.”
“I dunno. I’m with Paige,” Skye says. “Kat’s a harpy with a possible agenda and no RSVP.”
“Evie, can you please talk to her?” Paige’s voice goes high. “I just need to know why she’s here. Why she’s with Dad. Apparently, she was still majorly in love with Zach when he dumped her. She better not be trying to get Zach back.”
I exchange a look with Skye. It has to be her who’s sabotaging this wedding? And that’s probably why she’s with our dad. Because let’s get real—a bond over Fruity Pebbles only gets you so far. “Of course we can, P. I’ll invite her to lunch today.”
“I’ll come too,” Skye says. “And I’ll help haul her out if it comes to that.”
“Thank you,” Paige says, but there’s no energy in it. Then she sighs, staring into the distance.
I cross my arms over my chest. “What else is going on? Spill it, Sis.”
She gives me that ‘brace yourself’ look. “I was in Dad’s room yesterday evening looking for the engagement ring he gave Mom. I’m sorry, but he cannot give that thing to the harpy. Anyway, he walked into his room while I was there, and I had to hide in the closet.”
“As anyone would,” Skye says.
“Right.” She switches to pet Dior, who’s licking her hand. “Anyway, I overheard Dad on the phone with Anne.”
“Okay.” Anne is his administrative assistant at the law firm.
“He was talking to her about doctors’ appointments and retirement stuff.”
“Oh,” I squeak out.
“Like he’s having heart trouble again,” Paige mutters, her fingers nervously drumming on Coco’s back.
“Shit.” My heart’s caught in a vise, squeezing tighter with every beat. I don’t know what Dad would do without the work he loves. And no wonder he’s scared about the future of his firm. “Did he mention anything else? Like, specifics?” I say, dreading her answer.
“No. But Eva, he sounded... tired, you know? Like, more than usual.”
“I’ll get the coffee brewing,” Skye says, rushing over to the breakfast bar in her room.
“Thanks, Skye.” Great, so now we add “Dad’s health” to the list of things keeping me up at night. “This isn’t good.”
“No, it isn’t, Evie.”
This is why Dad’s so adamant about me dating Foster—because he’s trying to pass the baton before he can’t run the race anymore. Everything’s starting to make a lot more sense, and I lean back, the cushions swallowing me whole. “I’ve been so wrapped up in my Atlanta satellite office dream, thinking it was enough. But it’s not—it’s just a band-aid.”
Paige puts her hand on my leg, a silent pillar of support. “Right. So, what’s the game plan?”
I inhale the rich aroma of freshly ground coffee beans in the air as a realization settles in. I have a duty to do whatever it takes for my family, which means returning to the firm in-person.
“Go back to New York.” My voice is steel now. “We can’t lose him, Paige. Not to another heart attack, not to anything.”
“I know,” she says simply. “But, hey—we’ll get to live in the same city again.”
“I’d love that.” I smile for real.
“If anyone can handle this, it’s you. You’ve got more guts than a fish market.” She bumps my shoulder. “You’ll take New York by storm, and Dad’ll be able to breathe easier, literally.”
“Right, but I’ll need help.” Which Dad and Paige know—I’m nowhere ready to take over a firm myself, or even close to making partner. My years away doing the food business didn’t help.
As if reading my mind—I swear Paige actually can—she says, “Foster really knows his stuff. Believe me, I’ve gone up against him in court.”
But what about West? I remind myself that there’s nothing real with West, and what we have is just for this weekend. We reaffirmed our agreement last night. Pact partners by day, lovers by night, and it all expires on Sunday when this weekend is over. There’s nothing to be sad about because you can’t lose something you never had.
“Okay.” I stand up, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on my shoulders. But it’s a weight I’m ready to carry. This is how things are meant to be, and it will all work out. I know it. I have to believe it can because if I don’t, I’ll completely fall apart.
I smile and say, “I’ll invite Foster as my official date to the rehearsal dinner tonight. And I’ll ask Kat if she can meet me for lunch.”
“Thank you, Sister.”
Skye hands me my coffee. “And Foster won’t know what hit him today.”
“He won’t,” Paige agrees.
I allow myself a genuine laugh. Because if I don’t, I’ll cry. And there’s no time for tears—not when there’s a father to save and a legacy to secure.