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“I didn’t share any pictures.” And she would prove it too.
“Doesn’t matter.” Priscilla tapped the paper Juniper held. “This is effective immediately. I’m to collect everything and in case you don’t understand, the little fake wedding is off. The king is marrying a queen. The pauper can stick to her peasant beach town. I can’t imagine anyone with any clout would ever come this far outside LA to seek your advice anyway.”
Juniper looked back at the formal letter and sure enough, Marshall Blackwood’s name was across the bottom.
Tears threatened to spill but she willed the waterworks back. She refused to show weakness in front of this barracuda.
“BlackCo’s lawyers will be in touch soon. And since these are paid for, I’ll be taking them.” Priscilla hefted Juniper’s planners and dress and paused by the client table long enough to slip a white envelope onto the table. “Don’t try to contact Marshall again.”
Oh, she would be in contact. In fact, she wasn’t nearly as done with him as he was with her.
“This you can’t have for all the money and threats in the world.” Juniper jerked her dress from Priscilla, who squeaked in surprise.
“Huff all you want, bitch princess! Now get your trashy ass out of my shop before I show you how this peasant can draw blood.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
All the air left Juniper the second Masterson walked out her doors yesterday and had yet to come back. Nearly twenty-four hours and she still couldn’t breathe right. It hurt to draw any sized breath and hurt more to try in public.
She had one good thing going for her though. She’d reclaimed her wedding dress and right now she didn’t care if it rotted at the mercy of moths. At least she didn’t have it.
Shoulder to shoulder they bumped and swayed their way through the thick crowd. The results of Gran’s online marketing plan to fill the festival with new blood. She didn’t really know. Never enough hours in the day to really catch every detail of all the moving parts of her family’s lives.
Last year Gran discovered the power of Facebook and had their summer shindig jumping. Even the Hollywood elite showed up. Everyone profited. Everyone but the wedding planner, oddly enough. Maybe they should do something about that. Set up a Vegas-style drive-thru. That should generate some cash. Get the picture-perfect wedding without the cheesy Elvis impersonations.
“Come on, you can’t sit around with a sour face all night.”
“Watch me,” Juniper tossed back. Ivy and Callie took it as a personal invitation to gang up on her with ice cream and cold coffee.
After hearing the news of the called-off wedding, her family had rallied behind her. Gran and Mom had pushed them out the door to enjoy music and fireworks. But all it did was make her want to cry more.
If this was what love did, she wanted no part of it.
“That stuff won’t make me smile, just plump.”
“Happy plump,” Callie countered and passed her an ice cream cone.
“Trust us there’s no better break-up food.”
They walked hip to hip admiring the handmade crafts, colorful floral dresses hanging from wires and a few rockers breaking out wicked string solos.
None of it made her want to be here. After what Marshall did yesterday, she’d sent half a dozen text messages, as many emails, and called. Nothing. She even called Shawn to no avail. No one wanted to talk to her. Happiness might as well be an alien emotion.
They found a bench nearest the stage and cleared off the sand left by some kid probably. “Are you going to eat that?”
Juniper passed the cone over to Ivy, and Callie joined them on the bench.
Ivy scooted over to make room. “I don’t know what arrangement you two had, but last year I was kind of in the same boat as you.”
Juniper listened to Ivy as she watched musicians leave the stage while another band set up.
“And it turned out all peachy for you, yeah we all know.”
“Hey, that’s not fair and not the whole truth.”
Juniper hung her head. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just that every time I look at you and Aspen all I can think about is how I want what you have. It makes my heart so happy to see you two together and at the same time, I want to feel what that kind of love is like, too. I work with it every day, but I never feel the magic.”
“Until Marshall.”
