Karma’s Kiss

Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

What does one wear for a vigilante mission?

According to Taylor Swift, I should “draw the cat eyes sharp enough to kill a man,” which I’m perfectly willing to do except I don’t know where we’re headed tonight and sitting in a booth at Olive Garden going all out on soup, salad, and breadsticks with eye makeup that dramatic might be a little much.

I settle on a sexy outfit instead and have just finished zipping up the back of my dress when my phone rings on my nightstand. I expect it to be Kendra. She knows I’m going out with Sawyer tonight; I called her as soon as I left the ballfields.

“Hey, can’t talk long,” she warned. “I’m at the park for Nathan’s soccer lessons.”

I thought this sounded adorable. I can’t wait to take a little boy or girl to soccer lessons, or swim lessons, or any lessons, really.

“He’s old enough to do soccer lessons?”

“ No! Not at all. I’m lucky if he even looks at the ball, much less kicks it. It’s ridiculous but all our neighbors were doing it so now I’ve paid something like two hundred and fifty bucks to watch my child rip up grass and run around barking and pretending to be a dog. Oh look, now he’s licking a tree. Do you think David Beckham could kick a soccer ball at three? Maybe I should put Nathan in piano instead. Anyway, what did you call about?”

“I’m going on the date.”

“STOP. Really? Sheesh, you work fast.”

“I think it was just right place, right time. I keep bumping into him.”

“How’d you get him to ask?”

“Oh…well, it didn’t take much convincing.”

“That’s even better! If he’s that eager that means you’re guaranteed a heartbreak. Oh crap, Nathan is pulling down his pants. He’s peeing in the grass! I gotta—”

Then the line went dead, but now, Kendra’s not calling me back like I thought she might. When I check, the caller ID reads Living Florals, who I’ve worked with countless times at Evermore Events. Their prices are competitive and Fiona, their lead florist, has an unparalleled eye for color and design.

She’s not one to call late on a Saturday night unless it’s important, so I answer, “Fiona? Hey!”

“Oh hi! I was hoping to reach you. Sorry it’s not usual business hours.”

“No, it’s totally fine. Just…really quick, I should mention that I’m taking a summer break from Evermore Events, so if this is about the Lincoln wedding, you should contact Lizzie. She has the most up-to-date floral design.”

“Yes, no problem. I’ve already been in contact with her and we have that all squared away. This is about your wedding!”

My stomach plummets. “M-My wedding?”

I sound shocked because I am. Matthew proposed to me during our senior year at Auburn, the weekend before spring break. He’d gone to the trouble to set up a private room at a fancy Italian restaurant, and I remember taking care with my appearance that night more than ever before. I was so nervous I could barely get through our meal before Matthew got down on one knee and asked me to marry him. I said yes and all our friends poured into the private room from the hallway where they’d been listening in.

At the time, we had so much going on that we agreed to set a date for the wedding later. We were young, we had time. We felt like there was no rush, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t have all the important items already squared away. In fact, I had the whole thing planned. Early autumn. Outside at the Waldorf. Ceremony at sunset. Cocktail hour followed by a night of dancing in the Shanghai ballroom. Fiona and I had pored meticulously over floral options and finally settled on all white. We agreed it was traditional yet daring, bold and memorable.

“We received a call from the Waldorf just a few minutes ago, confirming your date. You know how Patricia likes to be on top of things.” Patricia is the Waldorf’s in-house wedding coordinator. She’s meticulous and thorough. I’ve worked with her dozens of times in the last few years. “She asked for confirmed florals by the end of the month, which would usually be out of the question except you and I have had them nailed down forever . Before I shoot her over this PDF, I just wanted to make sure nothing has changed.”

I feel so dizzy I have to sit down on the edge of my childhood bed: frilly, pink, stained with cranberry juice in the bottom right corner.

“I’m sorry, Fiona.” My voice is shaking as I speak. “I…I assumed you got my email that the wedding had been postponed.”

“Yes! Of course,” she rushes out quickly, “but then there was the follow-up email earlier this week that it was back on and moving fast . Early July is insane, but if anyone can pull off a wedding in four weeks, it’s you!”

Her tone is so chipper it makes me sick. I think my heart might take flight out of my chest.

“There’s been a mistake. Who…who did you say sent this email?”

“Matthew. And then he called yesterday…”

“I canceled this wedding.”

“Yes…and now you’ve un -canceled it.” She laughs lightly, totally not understanding the situation.

Finally, like a crazed criminal confessing under duress, I shout shrilly, “ IT’S NOT MY WEDDING! ”

My loud breathing fills the tense silence.

Fiona clears her throat. “Oh. I-I apologize for the call and well…I apologize.”

Then she hangs up.

Immediately, I open Facebook and type Matthew’s name in the search bar. Congratulations flood his profile. My shaking fingers scroll down.

Can’t wait to celebrate! Just booked my flight!

Let’s get Matthew hitched. #EmmaChoseMatthew

Matthew, this is your uncle Bob. Call me when you can. Aunt Dorothy and I are excited about your wedding. Is there a room block at the Waldorf?

Then further down, I see it. The engagement announcement post. A photo of Matthew on one knee, a blonde woman holding her hands over her mouth in surprise, her thin frame poured into a provocative red dress.

SHE SAID YES! the caption reads.

Matthew is marrying his mistress weeks after ending our engagement. He’s deleted every trace of me from his Facebook profile, and his family and friends—people I’ve known for years—apparently think it’s totally fine.

I feel rage like I’ve never experienced. It might explode out of me like a power surge. I call the Waldorf and ask for Patricia. She’s not available, but her assistant is.

“This is Madison from Evermore Events,” I tell her.

“ Hey , Madison!”

“I’m just calling to confirm details for the Mason wedding the first week of July.”

“Oh sure, let me pull up the info. It’ll just take a second. This computer has been so slow today. You having a good day?”

The fact that I have to do small talk at a time like this is so absurd I could laugh.

“Oh, I’m swell. How about you?”

“So-so. My IBS has been acting up more than usual and my doctor thinks it could be related to…” I squeeze my eyes closed and think about a tropical island. A soft breeze. A coconut cocktail. Then finally, “Okay, here we go. I have July 1 st , sunset ceremony at 6:30, followed by cocktails and light bites. The reception is slated for the Shanghai ballroom.”

“With Tinsel Cakes?”

“Yes. They’ll provide the wedding cake and—”

“Petit fours,” I finish for her. “And are the Cover-Ups playing the reception?”

“Yes. Actually while I have you here, I was wondering if you’d decided what time you wanted—”

I hang up on her.

Matthew is marrying his mistress and doing my dream wedding. They will have their first kiss as man and wife just before the sun drops below the horizon. They will cut into an almond cake with vanilla buttercream and playfully dab a little bit of frosting on each other’s noses. She will carry a white bouquet made of peonies, calla lilies, and orchids that I painstakingly designed with Fiona.

I’m going to be sick.

I rush to the bathroom, yank open the toilet lid, and wait for something to happen. When it doesn’t, I feel cheated. I slam the lid closed again and take a seat on top of it, wondering what I should do next. Cry? I blink and focus my attention there, willing if not a deluge of tears then at least a single dramatic drop to roll cinematically down my cheek.

Nothin’.

Apparently, the well’s dry. I can’t force sadness, but I can feel fury. Boatloads of it.

I could call Matthew. Call Evermore Events. But what is there to be done? Shout? Riot? Show up to the Waldorf, bide my time at the back of the crowd, and wave my hand wildly in the air when the officiant says, “If anyone objects to this marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace”? The idea holds a certain kind of appeal, but ultimately, I know I won’t do it.

Kendra is the person I call. She lets me unspool my anger and outrage and listens dutifully while she simultaneously gets out paint supplies for her kids and makes her family a spaghetti dinner because that’s what friends do. She agrees with me that it’s totally insane for Matthew to be doing this. We’re both almost more weirded out by the stolen wedding than by the suddenness of their nuptials.

“And doesn’t she think it’s weird that they’re using all of your ideas?” She gasps. “OH MY GOD, what if she’s wearing your dress?”

I hadn’t thought of that. The idea is so crazy that—

I put Kendra on hold, call my dress shop in Montgomery, and then report back a few minutes later.

“Different dress.”

“Oh thank god.”

We laugh because weirdly enough, this whole thing is hilarious. I’m not so far into my anger that I can’t see that.

“He’s a real psychopath.”

“A monster,” she agrees.

I lie back on my bed, staring up at the blue ceiling my dad painted in here before I was born. My parents didn’t know if I was going to be a boy or a girl. My dad thought the pale blue worked for either gender, and it did. The blue paint makes me more sad than Matthew’s betrayal.

“Do you wish it was you?” Kendra asks tentatively.

I think on it for a second.

“No,” I admit almost sheepishly. “Is that strange? It hasn’t even been that long since we broke up, but I can’t imagine being with Matthew like that ever again. I don’t know how I managed it for so long actually.”

“He was a good boyfriend.”

“Sure.”

“And I think for a while there, he was what you thought you wanted in a husband.”

“He did seem perfect,” I add.

Then she laughs. “Now we know he’s the farthest thing from it.”

I think about canceling my date with Sawyer. If it were a real date, I would. There’s no way I’m in the right headspace to usher in a new romantic relationship. I need a year to recover! I probably need to hike the Appalachian Trail until my heels bleed! Try Buddhism! Discover the self-help genre! Go vegan!

So it’s a good thing this isn’t a real date. It means I can go through with tonight and use it as a distraction from my rock bottom.

No more Waldorf wedding.

No more perfect husband.

No more potential perfect family.

No more promotion.

Right on time, Sawyer comes to the door to collect me for our date, and I’m wishing he hadn’t decided to play the role of a gentleman because it means Queenie flings the door open and gets to firing off a million questions before I can dart down the stairs.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, Sawyer Garnett. What are you doing here on a Saturday night? You forget David doesn’t live here anymore?”

“He’s here to get me,” I explain from midway down the stairs.

Both of their heads whip in my direction, and their reactions are eerily similar. If I wanted shock and awe, I got it. This is a revenge dress. A read ’em and weep dress. A little black number that squeezes all the right places and flirts with the top of my thighs. I’ve paired it with summer sandals and a delicate gold necklace I stole from Queenie’s vanity. She sees it and winks.

“Gorgeous, hun. Where you two headed?”

“I’m taking her out.”

Queenie’s jaw drops. “Are you really? Well that’s a shock. Does David know?”

I snort at this question. David sure does know. Sawyer made sure of that after the baseball game. There were a few of us left after the post-game debrief (i.e. a round of shots and a chant for Sawyer since he made the game-winning out). At the time, Lindsey was showing me a Pinterest board on her phone, laying out all her ideas for Cruz’s first birthday. It looked like quite an undertaking.

“I’m happy to help with anything you need. Put me to work.”

“You mean that? I could really use you. I know it’s silly to go all out for a kid’s first birthday when they won’t even remember it, but—”

I held up my hand. “Are you forgetting you’re talking to someone who plans events for a living? The bigger the better in my opinion. Cruz might not remember it, but you will.”

She grinned. “Glad we’re on the same page. David thinks I’m crazy.”

“Who asked him?” I teased.

David—who was standing there listening to us—flung his hands up and groaned. “Oh hell. This party is going to cost me an arm and a leg. I’m gonna have to get a second job.”

Sawyer walked up to the group then. “Hate to interrupt—”

“Please do!” David tossed his arm around Sawyer’s shoulders and tugged him playfully so they both almost lost their footing and fell to the ground. “These ladies are driving me insane talking about Elmo-inspired fruit platters and Peppa Pig s in a blanket.”

Sawyer chuckled, took one look at me, and then laid it all out there. “I just thought you should know I’m takin’ your sister out tonight.”

David laughed at this. A real belly-aching laugh with his head thrown back and everything. “No shit? ’Bout time.”

“What’s that mean?” I frowned.

“Any advice?” Sawyer asked David.

David studied me, one eye narrowed shrewdly like he was really thinking it over. “She might look sweet and dainty, but she’s a spitfire.”

I rolled my eyes, already walking away.

“Don’t let her win every battle!”

If he said anything else after that, I didn’t hear it. Now, I grab my purse from the side table near the door and am about to slide past Sawyer to get this show on the road, but my mom stalls us before I can make my great escape.

“What a gorgeous pair you two make. Let me take a picture before you leave!”

“We’re not going to prom,” I protest. “We don’t need pictures.”

Sawyer steps into the foyer and smiles at her. “Where do you want us?”

I want to sock him in the arm for willingly going along with her ridiculous request.

“Oh! Over by the fireplace. Yes. Step closer, and Madison, put your back to him so he can wrap his arms around your waist.”

We are officially too close for comfort. Sawyer’s hard body cocoons me. He’s somehow taller than I realized. I slyly peer back over my shoulder. He’s wearing jeans and a white button-down, clean boots. His hair’s still a little damp from a shower, and it’s holding on to its wave even better than usual. Men in Hollywood would sell their soul for that hair.

My assessment doesn’t include a look at his face. His handsomeness is a given; no need to confirm what I already know.

“Now where did I put my phone?” My mom pats her hips like her dress has pockets. Then she snaps her fingers. “Think I had it in the pantry a second ago.”

The pantry?

“Use mine!” I urge, yanking it out of my purse, but she’s already wandering off into the kitchen.

I sag. “This will take a while,” I warn him.

“It’s fine.”

He doesn’t remove his hands from my waist.

“This is what you get for humoring her.”

“She wants a good photo of us.” I can hear the amusement in his voice. “We’ll be glad to have it.”

“Glad to have it?” I echo in disbelief before I glare up at him. Ugh. Damn his captivating brown eyes. “ Why? ”

“First date. That’s special.”

He smiles and it’s like the whole world should take notice. I’m sure the furniture leans closer. The whole house sags in love.

His hold on me tightens and I shiver. His smile widens ever so slightly.

I’m about to continue acting the way I feel—bratty and annoyed—but then I remember the whole reason I’m here. I’m meant to be seducing him! I’m a woman on a mission! I return his smile and hope it seems sweet. I’ve never been all that good at acting.

“Oh too cute! Hold on, don’t move, y’all! Let me snap it.” My mom rushes into the room, getting in position in front of the coffee table. “Wait, it’s facing me. I can see straight up my nose.”

She laughs and slaps her thigh, and by the time she switches the camera around, there’s no telling what faces Sawyer and I are making. All I know is being nestled in his arms is a dangerous place to be. A girl could get used to this feeling of safety and comfort.

I step away as soon as she tells us she’s got it.

“I’m going to post this to Facebook,” she exclaims, probably already doing it. “Going to tag my book club girls.”

I imagine her rambling caption, outlining our full history.

“Please don’t.”

She doesn’t look up from her phone. “They love seeing you, Madison! And Sawyer, your grandma is in book club too. She’ll be tickled to see you two together.”

For one night only! is on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it. I’m acting! I seriously need to get into character. And I will, just as soon as we get out of this house.

“Come on, Sawyer,” I grumble, walking out the front door without bothering to see if he’s following behind me. “Love you, Mom. Don’t wait up.”

Sawyer’s black truck is parked on the curb, an old Ford that’s seen better days. He’s driven it since high school, and I know his dad had it before him. For all I know, it’s older than I am.

“Now don’t go opening your own door,” Sawyer calls out behind me.

I turn, arch a brow, and proceed to pull the handle. The door pops open and he grins.

“I forget I’m supposed to tell you to do the opposite of what I want.”

I slip onto the old leather seat. “You don’t think I can be sweet and cooperative?”

He smiles as he draws near, then with a low teasing voice, he replies, “I think you might be with other people…”

If only he knew how accurate that statement was. I was always sweet and cooperative with Matthew. To a fault, in fact. Now I’m not sure whether Matthew’s leached every ounce of niceness out of me or if with Sawyer it’s just different.

“So, where are you taking me?” I ask once he’s buckled up.

“In that dress? Nowhere anyone else will see you. ”

I can’t help but feel a little zing run through me. It’s his first mention of my outfit. To be honest, I was hoping for more. “Don’t tell me you’re the controlling type.”

I don’t sound impressed.

“Doesn’t matter. Apparently there’s no controlling you.”

I smirk and he sees it, pausing for a minute to really look me over before he pulls his truck away from the curb. His gaze is potent and unnerving. I can’t help but wring my hands for a minute. I really didn’t plan this out well. I should have had Kendra in an earpiece feeding me advice. How far does she want me to take this? What’s the end goal? Make him kiss me? Profess his love? Then what? Laugh in his face?

I turn toward him and smile gently, pretending to study him like I’m really interested. (Between you and me, it’s no trouble at all. In fact, I’d do it for free.)

“Right, well if you aren’t sure about our plans yet, we could always do dinner and a movie? Might still be tickets for the cinema downtown. Or we could drive to Doc’s and lose a few quarters to the jukebox. That thing still there or has it rusted over?”

“It’s still there, but I’ve got it handled.” He nods toward the back seat. “Those should fit you.”

He’s talking about the work boots resting on the seat. They’ve still got the tag on them.

“ Fit me …for what?”

He grins. “You’ll see.”