VANESSA BELMONT
As we entered the patio area, Carver said, "Margaritas, ladies?"
"Hell, yes," said Grace and I together.
"I'll go with Carver," said Ollie. "We'll need four hands for all that booze."
Grace followed slightly behind me as we walked toward the pool's shallow end. Fiona stepped in front of us. "Miss Belmont, may I speak with you?"
The image of Fiona grabbing me and throwing us both into the pool flashed through my mind. "I don't want to talk to you. If you need a friend, go find Nathan."
Her expression immediately turned to hurt and her eyes filled with tears. "There's nothing going on between us, Miss Belmont. I swear we're just ordinary friends."
"Fuck off," said Grace as she came to stand beside me.
Fiona hugged herself, crystalline tears streaking her cheeks. "Miss Witherstone, what have I done to offend you?"
"You take up oxygen."
Fiona went to grab my hands, which was her go-to move for showing how sweet she was. Vomit. I avoided her grasp, but it didn't matter. Fiona launched herself into the pool. Spluttering, she came to the surface.
"Help me," she cried out weakly as she splashed. "Help!"
"Vanessa!"
Nathan suddenly appeared and jumped into the pool. He grabbed Fiona, who was acting her little heart out. She cried pitifully and sagged into his arms as he walked up the pool stairs at the shallow end, holding his princess.
Grace glanced at me. "What? Did he think that was you?"
"No way."
"Fiona has the White Lotus act down pat," Grace said, grimacing. "What a professional."
I remembered how this played out before. While I hauled myself out of the pool, I heard whispers from bystanders who reacted to the trembling, crying Fiona. They made mean comments about me, and nice comments about her.
Fiona's efforts didn't stop the wedding because Nathan would not break the contract—and neither would I. But any relationship we might've built never happened because Fiona destroyed the foundation.
I shouldn't be surprised, though. That's how it worked when you married for money and your familial relationships were built on avarice.
Fiona coughed and clutched Nate's shoulders. "You didn't have to push me, Miss Belmont. I'm really sorry."
Grace rolled her eyes. "Not sorry enough," she muttered.
"Who pushed you?" asked Nate.
"Your fiancé." Her eyes were wide and her lower lip trembled. "She said I was trying to seduce you."
"What do you mean trying?" Grace snorted. "You've succeeded. You're clinging to a man who's getting married in half a year. And he's letting you." Grace looked at me. "Anything in that marital contract about fidelity?"
"No," I answered. "You'd think he'd at least wait until the honeymoon was over before he bedded another woman."
We both looked at Nate, and he had the wherewithal to at least look uncomfortable with the situation. I would've preferred red-faced shame, but oh well.
"What's going on?" Ollie and Carver arrived each man holding two strawberry margaritas. Grace and I each took one.
"You're missing the show," said Grace. "Fiona here is telling everyone how mean Vanessa is."
"She knows I can't swim. She shoved me," insisted Fiona. Her fingers curled around Nate's wet shirt. I felt jealousy jolt through me. I didn't want her hands on him. Also, who the hell was Nate to tell me to stay away from other men when he let this vicious kitten paw him whenever she wanted? I blew out a breath to calm my anger. This scenario had already played out in my previous life.
And I had been the loser.
Grace looked around. "Anyone witness Vanessa pushing Fiona into the pool?" She crossed to where Nathan stood holding his childhood sweetheart. She sipped her margarita and then smiled coldly. "No one? Oh, c'mon, people. Surely one of you witnessed what happened."
"Fiona jumped," came a woman's voice. "I saw her."
"I did, too," said another party-goer.
"Vanessa didn't touch her," admitted a third.
Grace turned her glare to Nathan. "You want to keep believing this woman's bullshit? Then you get what you deserve." She turned around and sauntered to Nate and I. "C'mon, besties. The atmosphere around here stinks."
"Vanessa."
Nathan's voice stalled me and I looked over my shoulder at him.
"Your shoes," he said, jerking his head to the right. My sandals were on top of the nearest table. I had forgotten them at the water-battle field. I sent him a puzzled glance.
Why did he have my shoes, and why did he bring them to me?
I grabbed the sandals. Then I followed my friends.
***|***|***|***|***
VANESSA BELMONT
Karaoke had been set up next to the pool—fairy lights, a temporary stage, and drunk people who couldn't sing worth a damn.
I loved it.
The four of us found an empty table and sat down.
Ollie clinked his glass against Grace's. "Alright, who's going first? No backing out now."
Grace smirked. "Vanessa and I are going to rock Wind Beneath My Wings."
"You've chosen death," I said. "If I sing, I promise you that Siberia will call us and ask us to put the dying cow out of its misery."
"So we should prepare," said Carver. "With more margaritas."
I nodded. "The drunker, the better."
Carver left and returned with a tray full of fresh margaritas.
Grace dragged me onto the makeshift stage, and the opening notes swelled. She belted out the first verse like she was auditioning for an off-off-off Broadway musical. I joined in. I hoped my enthusiasm might make up for my lack of talent. Given Grace's pained expression, I was guessing it did not.
Then I saw him.
Nathan stood at the edge of the stage, his dark gaze locked onto me. My fingers tightened around the mic, but I reminded myself: He wants Fiona. He loves Fiona. He does everything for fucking Fiona.
The song ended, and everyone burst into applause. Probably because I had stopped caterwauling. I stepped down, determined to avoid Nathan—until my bare foot caught on the uneven patio stone.
Oh, no.