Page 101 of The Temporary Fiancée
My wedding meetingwith Cecily at the country club may have been a disaster, but at leastsomepeople are enjoying the process of planning their weddings. When I head out to meet the girls for lunch at a diner on 47th, Riley is practically bouncing up and down with excitement.
She’s waiting for me and Sophie in a corner booth, folders spread out across the table in front of her. As I slide into my seat, she reaches into one of the folders with great fanfare and presents us each with gilded cards with embossed lettering.
COLE SULLIVAN and RILEY WINTERS request the pleasure of your company to celebrate their wedding.
The date—a few months away—and venue are inscribed below in neat, small lettering. The invitation is simple, but elegant—just like everything else Riley has chosen for her wedding.
“When did you get these?” Sophie asks, running her fingers along the edges of hers. “They’re lovely.”
“They were just printed two days ago.” Riley beams. “They went out this morning. I can’t wait to hear back from people.”
“Oh, Riley… this is so exciting!” I meet her gaze, grinning back at her. “You’re really getting married!”
“Right?” She laughs. “I can hardly believe it’s finally happening. So, speaking of wedding stuff—you two are good for Saturday, right?”
All of the bridesmaids are getting fitted for our matching dresses this weekend—and Riley is going to pick out her wedding gown. Of all the parts of the planning process, I know that this is the most important to her.
“Of course,” I say, and Sophie nods.
“Great! Okay. Let’s get down to business. I don’t want to keep you guys too long.”
Riley opens up her folder and pulls out two copies of a list, passing one to each of us.
“We need to figure out seating arrangements,” she explains. “This is the guest list. There are going to be six people per table. If you guys could help me?—”
Before she can finish her sentence, she’s interrupted by my phone, vibrating on the surface of the table. I snatch it up, shooting her an apologetic glance.
“It’s my dad,” I say. “Do you mind if I?—”
“Go for it,” Riley tells me. “We’ll be here!”
I step out of the booth, heading for the front of the diner to take the call away from the table. “Hello?”
“It’s me, Olivia,” says my father.
“How’s mom?”
“She’s doingmuchbetter today. Most of the pain is gone, and she was able to finish all of her stretches.” There’s relief in my father’s voice, and instantly, I feel a little knot of tension loosen in my chest.
I let out a breath. “That’s good to hear.”
“I figured you’d want the update,” he says. “Just thought I’d call and let you know.”
“Thank you, dad. I definitely wanted the update.”
“I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing. Tell Reed we said hello, alright?”
At his mention of Reed, I feel a little twinge of guilt, as I always do when my parents bring him up. However comfortable I am around Reed, I’m still not entirely comfortable navigating the huge lie that surrounds our relationship.
“I will,” I tell him.
“Love you, darling.”
After my father hangs up, I take a moment to text Reed before heading back to the table. He comforted me last night—he’ll want to know that everything’s okay now. Besides, he’s become the first person I talk to about things like this.
ME: Hey! Just got a call from my dad. Turns out my mom is doing much better today:) She’s in a lot less pain and is doing ok at her physical therapy.
Reed’s reply is almost instantaneous.
