13. Drew

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Andrew

I decided to go into the office to get some work done and hire a team to set up something for the wedding. As I stepped off the elevator, my assistant, Stella, looked up from her desk.

"Oh, Mr. St. Claire, I thought you would be out of the office for a few days? I moved everything around so there are no meetings today. Was there something I missed?"

Stella was a really good assistant—always a few steps ahead. I never had to double-check her work. She had actually come to the company as a favor to Becca, who asked me to offer her the job, and it had worked out.

"No, Stella, you didn't miss anything. I need to hire a team to set up a quick wedding, my wedding. I need a stage of some sort, maybe with a banner, flowers—some shit like that—and some chairs. See if you can get a hold of Monsieur Borgias. Claire loves eating there—maybe they can throw together some food for this evening. Oh, and the wedding needs to start at 6 p.m. Got all that? If you need more help, pull some people from marketing or the fashion department. Tell them we'll pay time and a half to make this happen. All final decisions need to come through me."

Stella hadn't said a word. She was just staring at me like I had two heads.

"Stella?"

She snapped out of it.

"Yes, Mr. St. Claire, I'm sorry. I just wasn't expecting this. Does Becca, by any chance, know about this?"

I was getting really tired of people asking me about Becca or if she was okay with things going on in my life.

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"No, she doesn't know about this. And, Stella, this isn't her business. I am not with Rebecca in any romantic capacity, so she doesn't need to be informed—nor do I need her permission to live my life."

I had never spoken to Stella like that before. From the look on her face, I knew I had not only shocked her but hurt her feelings too.

"Stella, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that to come out so harsh. But moving forward, if anyone needs to know about my schedule or make decisions regarding my personal life, it will either be me or Claire. No one else."

Stella kept her face straight, but I could still see the shock in her eyes.

Was I really this terrible to Claire?

Had she never come first enough that it was a shock to people when she did?

"Mr. St. Claire, is there a budget for this? It will be expensive, considering it's a same-day request."

"Money is no issue, Stella. There's no budget—just don't leave Claire and me destitute and homeless, please."

I walked into my office, knowing full well that Stella was probably texting Becca the second I turned away.

Stella had a good head on her shoulders and had always been nice to Claire, but Becca got her the job. When it came to loyalty, I was sure she picked Becca.

I decided to text my family in the group chat we almost never use. It had my sister, my brother, and our mother in it.

Mother had been asking for years to have Becca added, but that still hadn't happened—and wouldn't.

I had made it clear: if Becca was added to that chat, I was out. 

So far, that threat had worked.

I opened the chat and typed:

"I'm getting married tonight at 8 p.m. I'll text you the location later. You're all invited, but if you bring any drama—and I mean ANY drama—I will have you removed."

My siblings had never been awful to Claire, but they hadn't been exactly warm either.

My sister, Sarah, had a strange relationship with Becca. They liked each other just enough to hate everyone else together.

They got along fine as long as they had someone else to aim their bitterness at.

Claire had mentioned, once or twice, that a comment had been made by them in passing—something offensive.

When I confronted Sarah and Becca about it, they made it seem like Claire had taken it the wrong way.

When I went back to Claire about it, all she said was, "Okay."

Literally—just "okay"—and that was the end of the conversation.

I should probably let Claire know I've invited my family.

I just hope she won't go running for the hills once I tell her.