Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 103428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
“Ah, Everly. I never could get used to calling her Evie.”
“Apparently she goes by Evie.”
“I figured she might be the real reason for your call. Everly told me the two of you met last week.”
Shit. “What did she say?”
“The usual. That you were just as debonair as I’d said and very polite and professional.”
Polite, huh? My grandmother did not pull any punches. She would have reamed into me if she knew I’d treated Evie the way I did. I was grateful Dr. Vaughn had kept the truth about our meeting private.
“She’s a looker, isn’t she?”
“Evie’s a beautiful woman, yes.”
“Nice rack, too,” she said.
That I definitely knew from the fitting room. But I wasn’t having a conversation about any woman’s tits with my grandmother. “I wouldn’t know. I was interviewing her, not ogling her.”
“Good. I love you. You’re my favorite grandson. But the last thing my Everly needs is a workaholic with commitment issues. Just give her a job, not a ride on the Merrick Express.”
“First of all, I’m your only grandson, so I better be your favorite. And second of all, I don’t have commitment issues.”
“Uh-huh. So are you giving my girl the job or what? She’s had a rough year with her breakup and that dumb video and all.”
“Dumb video?”
“Do you listen to anything I say? I told you about it. It was probably six months ago now. The week after my gallbladder surgery, to be exact. That’s why I couldn’t come up for the wedding.”
Now that she said it, I did remember she was supposed to come up for a wedding, but she’d had a gallbladder attack, and instead I’d gone down there for her surgery. “I remember the wedding… So they broke up? Evie called it off?”
“Not quite. The night before the big day, Everly found out her fiancé was shtupping her maid of honor. Rather than break it off, she married him, and then at the reception she showed a video of the two of them doing the horizontal mambo before walking out. Somehow the whole world saw the video because of the damn Internet. She annulled the marriage the week after.”
Holy shit. I vaguely remembered my grandmother telling me that story, and I even remembered seeing a partial clip of the video on the news. But I hadn’t put two and two together. “I didn’t connect the dots to realize it was the woman I interviewed.”
“Yep. Though I hope you don’t hold that against her. It took a lot of guts to do what she did.”
“Of course not,” I told her.
My grandmother and I talked for another ten minutes. After we hung up, I grabbed my laptop and typed into the Google search bar: Everly Vaughn wedding disaster.
I hadn’t paid close attention to the video when it was popping up all over the place earlier this year, but the very first video that showed up when I hit enter was definitely Evie. And the damn thing had a shit ton of plays. The still was her face as she spoke into a microphone wearing a wedding dress. I hit play and watched the entire thing once through with my mouth hanging open. I couldn’t believe this was the same woman I’d halfheartedly interviewed, the same woman from the fitting room. When the video ended, I hit the button to play it a second time. But when the bride came on the screen, I hit pause and took a good look at her.
Evie—Doctor Everly Vaughn—looked gorgeous in a fitted, strapless, white-lace gown. Her hair was styled the way women wore it back in the forties, with soft blond waves framing her pretty face. The sexy librarian glasses she’d worn both times I’d met her were gone, making her big, blue eyes look even bigger. Damn… She really was a knockout.
I rattled the ice in my almost-empty glass with my eyes glued to the screen. The first time I’d watched the video, I’d concentrated on the groom—trying to see if he’d had any clue what was about to go down. He definitely hadn’t, and it made watching the asshole get what was coming to him that much more enjoyable. But this time I focused on the bride. And as beautiful as she looked, I could now see the hurt in her eyes. It reminded me of this afternoon, when I’d been truthful about why she’d been invited to a second interview—except the hurt was magnified times a thousand.
I pressed play and watched as Evie took the microphone and asked for everyone’s attention. Zooming in, I noticed her hands shaking. A few months ago, when it hit the news, I’d chalked the video up to a crazy bride. But now, I saw things differently. Sucking back the last of the amber liquid in my glass, I gave her credit for standing up for herself. My grandmother was right. It took balls to do what she did, putting her emotions on display in front of a room full of people and calling out two people she loved. When the video got to the part where her fiancé and best friend started to go at it, I shut my laptop and stared out the window at Manhattan.