Under a picture of the happy couple eating a piece of cake together, there was another large blurb. Runaways! was the title, and went into detail of Kiki’s flight, and theorized as to why she’d left just hours before the wedding. The tabloid also mentioned that the best man was missing, and speculated that possibly the two of them had run off together.
Seeing as how Kiki was up in Greer’s apartment? Yeah, that was a big fat no.
There was no mention of Greer. No mention of the hours she’d put in to the wedding, the long, hard work she’d done for her father. He hadn’t thanked her in his speech, instead simply gushed about his new bride. Her father was good at pretending when it came to business, and to him, the wedding was nothing but business.
It didn’t even hurt. Well, okay, it hurt a little. Mostly, though, she found it sad.
It was like Kiki had said, she needed love to be proved to her. Greer was the same way. Now that she’d had time to mentally go through some of her thoughts, she knew the situation wasn’t the same as her father’s pretending. There was more to her and Asher, but what it was, she didn’t know. He’d told her he loved her. . . . but he’d also tried to get her to sign a bad contract. He’d set up a sham wedding to spend time with her . . . but most of the time was spent pleasuring her and making her happy.
After all, she realized, she’d seen Asher at his worst that night at Gretchen’s party. He didn’t have to try if he just wanted to get laid. Like her father, he could snap his fingers and pretty women would come running, just because he had money. He’d gone after Greer. Pursued her.
But she didn’t trust him. Not after what she’d found out.
Love had to be proven.
All right, then. She’d have to figure out a way to test him. Thoughtful, Greer tucked the tabloid under her arm and continued walking.
***
The idea hit her late that night, when she was lying in bed, sad and miserable and alone. After all the nights spent in Asher’s bed, it was still strange to sleep alone in her own, and she had a hard time falling asleep. She’d been thinking about Asher and how confused she was over whether or not he truly loved her like he’d said, when she’d remembered Donna.
Donna of the prior relationship. Betraying Donna, who’d nearly tanked his business and broke his heart in one fell swoop. Donna, the high school sweetheart who had been Asher’s only love until now. Donna of the flaming red hair and vivacious personality, who was nothing like Greer.
She picked up her phone, curious.
Another wave of text messages filled the screen, all from Asher.
Asher: Sweetheart, please call me.
Asher: I’m worried about you.
Asher: Don’t do this, Greer. Don’t cut me out. Please.
Asher: Talk to me. Let me know what’s wrong.
Asher: I came to your building and they won’t let me in to see you. I’m calling Hunter on Monday to buy the damn building if you don’t answer me soon. I’m serious, Greer. We need to talk. I need to know what’s freaking you out so I can fix it.
Asher: Please, sweetheart. Just call me. Let me know you’re all right.
The texts made her heart ache. She’d been doing her best not to read them over the long weekend, because reading them just reminded her of what a good thing she’d thought she’d had with Asher. For that brief, happy window of time, she’d been so happy. She’d thought that maybe, maybe they could have a future together. Maybe they could be the little family she’d always dreamed of.
Now she didn’t know what to think. Lies had been piled on top of lies, and she deserved to know the truth. Her baby deserved it, too.
Again, she thought of Donna. Did Donna still live in NYC? Greer couldn’t remember. Her last name was a strange one, Sunshine. Greer had thought it was a silly last name but it also made it easy to remember and even easier to Google. She found her within moments, and paid a fee on a telephone lookup website to get her private phone number.
Donna was the key to all of this, Greer realized. If she knew for sure that Asher was done with Donna and was serious about her, she could look past all the ridiculous lies and the made-up wedding—though really, thinking about that still made her furious—and she could at least be friends with him if she understood what he was thinking. If she could understand where he was coming from. Something. Anything.
She stared at Donna’s phone number, hesitating over sending a text. What could she say to her that wouldn’t sound like she was a crazy person?
We have a mutual ex and we need to talk because I don’t know if he’s my ex?
Hey, did Asher ever make other people put on a fake wedding just so he could spend time with you?
Did you guys ever pretend to practice sex even though he was really good at it?
Anger burned in her belly, and she put the phone down. Strangely enough, the thought of Asher with Donna—Asher touching Donna—filled her with fury and jealousy. She didn’t want to bring Donna back into the picture. What if she did and Asher forgot all about Greer again?
But . . . if she didn’t, how could she ever be certain of anything Asher told her? His lies were mixed with his truths.
Remember when you asked if I was either a liar or in love?
Her heart hurt. She knew he was a liar. Why was she so determined to hope that he was also in love? Was it just the baby? Was this her trying to feather her nest? She put the phone down and closed her eyes, trying to picture Asher as a father. Every time she thought of him, though, she thought of his teasing smile, the wicked look in his eyes just when he was about to thrust into her. The way he kissed her neck. The way he held her and they just talked for hours while in bed together.
It wasn’t that she wanted a father for her baby. She wanted Asher for herself. Always had. Maybe she always would.
Tears brimming in her eyes, Greer picked up her phone again and texted Donna before she could chicken out.
Greer: Hi, Donna. It’s me, Greer Chadha-Janssen. I used to be one of Asher’s roommates back in college. Are you still in NYC? I hope so. Can we set up a time to talk over lunch? I need a favor and I’m hoping you’ll help me. I’ll make it worth your while.
***
She met Donna at a small, anonymous coffee shop in Brooklyn the next afternoon. Well, sort of. Greer got there early and knew instantly when Donna arrived. Dressed in a cool, summery white dress that showed off every line of her body, Donna drew the attention of everyone in the cafe. Greer, on the other hand, was wearing a plain T-shirt and leggings, since her jeans were a little too tight to be comfortable this morning. Plain and boring, that was Greer. She knew it even as Donna’s gaze skimmed over the cafe’s customers, looking for Greer. Seriously? Did the woman not remember what she looked like? Was she truly that forgettable?
Greer raised a hand into the air when Donna’s gaze moved over her again without recognition. Yes, apparently, she was that forgettable.
“Greer?” Donna sauntered forward and extended her arms. “Oh, my goodness. When you said you and Asher had been dating, I thought you were the blonde one, not—” she paused.
Not the brown one? “Please sit,” Greer said, determined to keep the conversation aboveboard. She needed Donna’s help, like it or not. “Thank you for meeting me.”
“I have to admit that I have an ulterior motive,” Donna said with a swing of her big, bouncy red hair. “I’ve been trying to contact Asher for a few weeks and I can’t get ahold of him.”
“You have?” She kept her voice mild, even though her hands clenched on her cup. He’s mine, she wanted to growl. You had him and you fucked away your chances.
Donna gave an aggrieved little grimace. “I just moved back to the city and can’t connect with him. Do you know if he’s lost his phone?”
“He didn’t lose it. He’s been in Vegas with me.” Okay, so she felt a little catty pointing that out. She also
wanted to point out that she was having the man’s baby, but that would probably make Donna turn and run and again, and she needed Donna. She just had to keep reminding herself of that.
“Oh.” Donna tilted her head. “So what’s this about, then?”
“I want you to help me see if Asher’s feelings for me are legitimate.”
Donna’s eyes widened. “I . . . don’t understand.”
“I love Asher. And I thought he loved me, but now I’m not sure.” She swallowed hard, taking a moment to compose herself. It was difficult to lay herself bare like this, when everything inside her screamed for her to protect herself, protect the baby, not to let anyone know how she was feeling. She cleared her throat and continued. “Asher says he cares for me. I don’t know if I can trust him. I want you to meet with him and ask him to reconcile with you. I want to see his reaction.”
Donna’s jaw dropped. “You want to see if he’ll try to get back together with me?”
Greer nodded. Throwing Donna—his first love—in his face would prove to her if he truly wanted Greer or if it was just an act to get to the baby. It was underhanded and wrong and she didn’t know what else to do.
“How . . . how will this work?” Instead of calling her a dirty rat or threatening to call the cops on her like Greer had envisioned, Donna looked intrigued.
“I thought you might record him, or wear a microphone or a baby monitor. Something. I don’t know. Something where I could hear your conversation.” Greer twisted her hands in her lap. “I know it sounds crazy, but I just have to be sure.”
“And what do I tell him? Hi, Asher, I know I fucked things up between us two years ago but I’ve turned over a new leaf?”
Actually, that didn’t sound too bad to Greer. “Whatever you need to tell him. Just make it believable.”
“It should be believable,” Donna said with a sniff. “Like I said, I’ve been trying to get in touch with him for the last week. It’s funny that you should ask me to do this . . .” She let her words trail off delicately and a tiny smile played on her mouth.
Oh no. Greer’s heart sank. “You want him back?”
“I do,” Donna said and crossed her legs delicately, adjusting her skirts. “Honestly, that’s why I’m entertaining this. If he’s with you, then I guess we’re done.” She shrugged. “But if he has feelings for me, I’d like to know. I’d like a second chance.”
“Because of his money or because of who he is?” Greer asked flatly.
Donna tilted her head and frowned at Greer. “That’s a crass question.”
It was a truthful one. Did it even matter, though? If she threw Donna at him and he chose her over Greer, then what did it matter if Donna wanted him for his money? Wouldn’t he deserve that after how he’d treated Greer?
But it hurt, because she still loved him despite everything.
“I’m sorry,” Greer said, even though it galled her to apologize. “I’m just . . . touchy at the moment. It sounds like we both want the man. This is the only way to see which one of us he truly wants. Do you agree?”
“I do.” Donna gave another toss of her glorious hair. Jeez. The woman shook her mane more than a show pony. How had Greer not remembered that? “And whoever he wants is whoever he gets.”
Provided he apologizes and gets his head out of his ass, yes. “All right. And the other will give him up, no questions asked.”
Donna’s smug little smile told Greer that she wasn’t too worried about losing. “So how should we do this? Can I compare phone numbers with you? Like I said, I can’t seem to get ahold of him lately.”
“Sure. He’s been texting me constantly for the last week.” And oh, it felt good to pull out her phone and scroll through the list of endless text messages she’d gotten from Asher recently, if only to see the smug perfection on Donna’s face fade a little.
They set up their plan. Donna would text Asher and tell him it was regarding Greer and ask him to meet her in a public place. She’d place her phone on speakerphone so Greer could hear everything that Asher said. That was all. It seemed ridiculously simple, and outrageously sneaky, and by the time Donna left, Greer was upset and unhappy and ready to throw up all the hot chai tea she’d drank at the cafe.
She opted for a cab home instead of the subway, and laid down in the backseat the entire time, sick to her stomach and worried about what she’d just done. Over and over, her phone buzzed with texts and each one was like a little mental shake.
What have you done?
What makes you think Asher will understand what you just did?
Won’t he be mad? What if he hates you?
What if he does want Donna back just because you shoved her in his face and he realized how beautiful she is?
Logic told her that if Asher cared for her, it wouldn’t matter. Logic told her that Asher could be mad about her being sneaky, but it was just payback for him being sneaky. Logic told her a lot of things that made sense, but it didn’t stop the nervous pounding in her heart or the worry that she’d somehow fucked everything up.
Was she going to end up like her mother, unloved and alone and miserable while trying to raise a child? Watching the man she loved move on to someone else? God, now she was just making herself crazy.
“Here you go,” the cabdriver said.
“Thank you,” she murmured and paid him, and went into her building. It wasn’t until she got into her apartment and kicked her flats off that she dared to look at her phone.
No texts from Asher.
***
Gretchen: I’m looping all my bridesmaids in on this text conversation because I feel we should all be on the same page. And that page is the Cabbage Soup Diet.
Taylor: The cabbage soup diet?
Brontë: Shakespeare says “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet” Gretchen. It doesn’t matter what you look like.
Gretchen: I’m hearing blah blah blah from all you normal-sized girls.
Chelsea: Wait, are you telling me to diet? Seriously?
Gretchen: You guys, I’m on day three and I’ve already lost four pounds. This is great! And no, you skinny bitches can suck it. I need to diet. I’m just sharing my joy.
Audrey: Can you guys take me off this loop? I’m at work and I don’t need my phone going off constantly. Will email u later sis. Kisses.
Gretchen: Fine. I took her off. Doesn’t anyone want to hear about the miracle of this diet?
Chelsea: I assume it involves cabbage and soup? Sebastian just told me I’m not allowed. And I have a bout on Friday and need my protein. So I’m out.
Gretchen: Only one day is cabbage soup! The first day is all fruit and the second is vegetables!
Taylor: So why can’t this be called the fruit, vegetable, and soup diet?
Chelsea: More like cabbage poop diet.
Taylor: Ha!
Taylor: And are you really going to stay on nothing but fruits and vegetables until your wedding?
Gretchen: I don’t know! Greer’s the bridal expert. Greer, where are you? Do you know of any good crash diets for pre-wedding bloat?
Oh god, right now she did not want to be talking about food or diets or even weddings. She curled up miserably on her couch and texted them back.
Greer: Guys can you take me off the loop, too? I’m sorry. I’m just struggling right now.
Gretchen: Oh no, what’s wrong?
Taylor: Do you need a drive-by delivery of pizza and/or chocolate?
Chelsea: :( Do you need me to elbow-check someone?
Brontë: The antidote for 50 enemies is one friend.
Gretchen: Seriously do you have a book of these, Bron?
Brontë: I’m good at memorizing. :)
Gretchen: Anyhow, spill it, Greer, or you’re going to have a bunch of women show up on your doorstep.
Taylor: OMG we can be her squad
.
Chelsea: Yes! Squad goals!
Greer laughed despite herself. Her friends were insane, but it felt better knowing she had a posse of people she could pour her heart out to at any time. She thought for a moment, and then texted back.
Greer: You know how the whole two wrongs don’t make a right thing exists? I just did wrong number two and I’m feeling terrible about it.
Gretchen: Spill the beans. We need deets.
Greer: It’s too much to text. Let’s just say that Asher bribed my dad to get him to put on a wedding so I could manage it and he could be around me, so now I’m sending his ex to spy on him and see if he wants to be with me.
Greer: I guess that wasn’t too much to text after all.
Chelsea: !! You sent Donna?
Taylor: Wait, he put together the whole wedding thing just so he could be around you?
Greer: Yup.
Taylor: I don’t know if that’s sweet or crazy.
Gretchen: OMG I AM SO PISSED AT HIM. Does he know how much I have needed you in the last month? I am kicking his ass. I had to taste my own damn cakes!!! There is no cake on cabbage soup diet!
Brontë: I . . . also think it’s kind of sweet. But I married a manipulator of my own. :)
Chelsea: Aw, I was kind of hoping Bron-Bron would have a quote about liars being great in bed or some shit.
Brontë: I’m mostly familiar with the classics, and I don’t think Aristotle said a lot about liars being great in bed.
Taylor: Socrates?
Gretchen: Can we focus on the wounded party here? IE me? I’ve been without my wedding planner for the past month because your dad’s wedding is a fucking fake?
Greer: It is apparently being done for publicity and the fact that Asher bribed him.
Taylor: Aww, for you?
Gretchen: Taylor, shaddup. This is still NOT CUTE.
Chelsea: So . . . you’re throwing Donna at him?