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Leah is still beaming. “Margot, are you familiar with Ivy’s music? She’s amazing. She writes all her own songs and has literally millions of followers.” Leah pauses. “I mean, only if you’d agree to it of course, Ivy, but maybe you’d consider…singing a song at our wedding? Can you imagine, Blake?” She places a hand on my arm. “But no pressure. You’re here to enjoy a weekend away. I would only want you to do it if you wanted to. But we would be so honored.”
Margot looks highly pissed off by the suggestion. “The wedding is already planned, down to the minute. I’m afraid it would be too difficult to try to squeeze that in, especially since it’s so last minute.”
Leah’s persistent. “How about tonight then? At our rehearsal dinner?”
Blake smiles at his fiancée. “Honey, I’m sure Ivy would prefer to just enjoy the evening as our guest.”
“Of course she would,” Margot agrees.
Leah bites her lip, blinking expensively-enhanced eyelashes. “Maybe…one song?”
I glance at their faces, all of which have very different expressions. “I mean…I wouldn’t mind at all, but only if you’re sure it wouldn’t disrupt the schedule.”
“Really?” Leah clasps her hands together gleefully. “Oh my god, are you kidding? You definitely would not be disrupting the schedule. When do you want to do it? Like…now? Can you sing Dreaming of You?”
Blake chuckles. “Leah, honey, Ivy just got here. Let’s give her and Alexander a chance to get a drink and find their table. Are you sure you don’t mind, Ivy? Don’t let my almost-wife bulldoze you into it.”
“I’d be happy to do it for such a special occasion.”
“I can’t believe Ivy Laine is at my wedding!” Leah exclaims. “And she’s going to sing! This is unreal. It’s such a good omen, I can feel it.”
Even Margot can’t argue with that. Staging as many good omens as possible is part of a wedding planner’s job description. She begrudgingly types something into her iPad as she watches Alexander’s thumb gently grazing my neck, almost absent-mindedly but in a way that’s surprisingly intimate.
I wasn’t expecting his warmth to be so…comforting. “Come on, sweetheart,” he says. “My girl needs more champagne.”
My girl.
Margot scowls at his endearment, a flicker of real heartbreak behind her eyes. But then she’s temporarily distracted by the caterer, who approaches her with some issue from the kitchen.
More people are arriving, diverting the attention of our hosts, which gives us a chance to escape. A passing waiter offers a tray of champagne flutes and Alexander takes two, handing me one. He leads me over to the area where the tables are set up and we find our seats.
Decorative place cards have our names stenciled into them, and I notice that Leah has seated Alexander next to her. Someone named Ethan has been allocated the seat on my left.
Alexander pulls my chair out for me and we both sit. “Ivy Laine, huh.”
“Guilty as charged,” I admit.
“Cleo didn’t mention the part where you’re a famous musician.”
“I’m not that famous.”
As we take our seats, Alexander takes his phone out of his pocket. “L-A-N-E?”
“L-A-I-N-E. Please don’t google me.”
“Oh I’m googling you, sweetheart.”
But I gently take his phone from his hands and he lets me do this. I put it face-down on the table. “Just ask me. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
“I already tried that. In the helicopter.”
“I’m sorry. I just didn’t want it to get in the way.”
“In the way of what?”
“I thought maybe I could fly under the radar for the weekend.”
“No such luck.” He’s doing that thing again where he studies my face sort of raptly. His eyes linger on my mouth. “It would be impossible for you to fly under any radar, Jones.”
