Page 85 of How to Ruin a Wedding

“Okay, that’s already a lot of red flags.”

“I know,” she mutters. “Anyway, this sketchy realtor tells us there’s another buyer. Supposedly offered an extra fifty grand, but was applying for a mortgage. He said if we went in all cash and added another fifty on top, the seller would go with us.”

“Oh no.”

“Right? So we wired the money. The full amount.” She exhales. “And then, poof. The guy disappears. Just had his license suspended for mortgage fraud, and we’re out a million.”

“And you haven’t told anyone?”

“How can I?” she asks. “Everyone already thinks I’m a bratty airhead with an attitude problem. And they’re not wrong. But my dad already put me on a spending limit. He says I’m wasteful and wouldn’t survive in any other family. If he finds out I lost that much money? Game over. My cards go dead for a year, minimum.”

“You have to get help. Legal help. You have to try to recover it.”

“I know.” She waves her hand, like we’re talking about losing her keys. “I used to sleep with this guy who interned at my dad’s law firm. He’s got a new job now, but said he’ll help if I convince my dad to hire him full time. So I’m working on that.”

“Okay, but—” I hesitate, then push, “What about John? What’s he doing to fix this?”

She stiffens just slightly. “What can he do?”

“I don’t know. Something. He picked the realtor. He pushed for this house. Shouldn’t he be making calls? Talking to lawyers? Taking responsibility?”

Valerie crosses her arms. “He’s devastated, too, okay? He knows it’s bad. I don’t need him to fix it—I just need him not to spiral. He’s not great with stress.”

“That’s not the same as being helpful.”

Her gaze sharpens. “He’s trying. He’s calling around. He’s upset. But he doesn’t have connections like I do. He doesn’t have a rich dad with lawyers on call. It’s different for him.”

I hold back from pushing harder, but I can feel the words trying to claw their way out. Different doesn’t mean he gets to screw up and let you carry the fallout. If there’s already trouble like thisbeforemarriage, imagine what could happen after.

Instead, I say, “You made the registry to have other people buy what you need while you try to recover.”

“Yeah.” She sighs. “And being poor sucks. No offense.”

“Hard to be offended if it’s true.” I pause. “But seriously. If John’s this bad with money, how are you two planning to handle joint finances?”

Valerie shrugs like it’s too heavy to think about. “Anders warned me he was bad with money. Said every time someone asked for help back in college, John gave them whatever he had. That the rest he lost playing cards.” She leans her head back and closes her eyes. “And now I’ve just proven to Anders that I’m just as irresponsible. If he finds out, he’ll never let it go.”

If Anders finds out his suspicions were right—that John hasn’t changed, that he’s still reckless with money and now has direct access to Valerie’s—he’ll picture a future of joint accounts, shared debt, and the tears and stress of his sister, and walk into the wilderness never to be seen again.

“So,” Valerie says, like she’s trying to reset the tone, “tonight, when we’re out, you can’t act weird about this. Process it, then remove it from your memory.”

I open my mouth, shut it again. “We’re?” I ask. “Where are we going?”

She frowns. “What do you mean?”

“What doyoumean?”

“It’s Anders’s birthday party tonight.”

My eyes go wide for a second before I force myself to play it cool.

“Ah.” I slap her arm playfully. “I thought you meant earlier, before that. I’m taking Anders out for a little stroll before the party. Private time. You know, romantic prelude.” I’m rambling. “I thought you were inviting yourself to our pre-date.”

She snorts. “Yeah, right, I don’t need to third-wheel you and my brother.”

“Right.”

She checks her phone. “When’s your date? You should probably head out soon—the party’s in a couple hours.”