She paused. He really did look upset. But she had to ask. “Are you upset because I’m unhappy? Or are you upset because I’m quitting?”
He hesitated.
That little hesitation was all it took. “Fuck you. Fuck you for not respecting me or my time, and fuck you for not respecting those three girls you’re dangling the marriage carrot in front of. They’re people, Vader. They’re people and they deserve to be treated like people. So fuck you. I’m done here.”
She turned and stormed out of his office. Stormed up the stairs. Stormed into her room. Threw her clothes into her suitcase and shoved all of her things into it as quickly as she could. She was leaving. Leaving Vegas, leaving Asher and his games behind, leaving Kiki and Bunni and Tiffi and her father to do whatever the hell they wanted. If they wanted to get married still, she wanted no part in any of it.
She felt so . . . used. Like less than a person. Completely unimportant.
Greer had realized, staring into her father’s face, that he didn’t care about her. To him, she was like one of the triplets. Disposable and convenient. It didn’t matter that she was his only daughter and that he should have loved her. He didn’t know how to love anyone. But she’d known all her life that Stijn was, at heart, an asshole. To have it confirmed hurt, but it wasn’t surprising.
Asher’s betrayals had gutted her, though. She didn’t know why he’d choose to manipulate and use her, but she guessed it had to do with the baby. Aching hurt blossomed through her chest, and she wheeled her suitcase down the steps, letting it thump on the hardwood. Every thump was like a fuck you to the world.
Fuck you to her father.
Fuck you to the wedding.
Fuck you to Asher.
Fuck you, Asher.
Fuck you.
By the time she got to the bottom of the stairs, someone had come out of the kitchen to see what was going on. Marta stood there, wiping her hands, concern on her lined face. “Mija, what’s wrong? Why are you leaving?”
Greer tried to think of a nice, calm answer. She stood in the hallway and thought and thought, and her lower lip pushed out and trembled, and then she was crying.
“My poor mamacita.” Marta enfolded Greer in her arms and led her to the kitchen, rubbing her back. “You come sit with me and tell me all about it.”
***
Something was wrong.
Asher had texted Greer all night, only to get no response. He’d known she was busy, but she normally made time for his texts, taking a few moments here and there to send him sweet, funny notes throughout the day.
Today had been nothing but silence, and it worried him. Was she sick? Was the baby okay? As long as Greer was okay, he could handle anything, even if she’d miscarried. It would destroy him, but he loved her too much to let her go. His hands clenched on the steering wheel as he drove up to the Dutchman castle. Just let Greer be all right. Nothing else matters.
Greer’s practical little rental wasn’t in the driveway. That wasn’t surprising, but it sent a shiver down his spine anyhow. He went to the front door and banged on it a few times. He could hear voices inside, and chaos. Someone was sobbing. Someone else sounded as if they were screaming. It made his heart feel as if it were encased with ice.
Something was really wrong.
When no one opened the fucking front door, he jiggled the lock until it opened and let himself in. “Hello?” he called out, storming into the house. There were boxes everywhere, and folding tables lined the foyer and every inch of wall space. The crying was coming from the dining room where Greer normally held her meetings, and he headed that way. Just let Greer be all right.
Inside the dining hall, he saw the triplets and a few other people he didn’t recognize. The long table they normally sat at was trashed, every inch of it covered in papers and what looked like the remains of a bridesmaid’s gown. An older woman in an apron stood hugging one of the girls as she sobbed into her shoulder.
Asher stared at the chaos. “Where’s Greer? Is she all right?”
Someone started crying harder again. The others were silent.
“Where is she?” He clenched the back of the chair in front of him to keep from flinging it at someone’s head. “Tell me she’s all right.”
“She quit,” one of the blonde triplets sobbed. “She quit and we’re getting married in two days!”
“And my bridesmaids’ gowns are ugly!” wailed another. “How can they go down the aisle looking like big purple idiots!” She ripped at one of the sleeves on the dress spread on the table. “And I don’t know who to call to fix it!”
“She quit?” he repeated. Please, God, let that be the only problem. Let her be safe and healthy. “She’s all right?”
“She left,” the woman in the apron spoke up. She gave Asher a judgmental look. “She packed her things and went home to New York this afternoon.”
“What? Why?”
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Because you lied to her.”
***
Greer went off the grid for the next few days.
No television. No Internet. No email. She’d left instructions at the front desk of her building that no one was to be let in to see her. Her phone was turned to silent and her texts were muted. She didn’t want to hear a thing about the wedding. She didn’t want to know if it was canceled, or if it had gone off. She didn’t want to know which of the triplets he’d married. She didn’t want to hear a single solitary thing about her father or his best man.
Instead, she went to the corner store, bought all the Ben & Jerry’s ice cream and potato chips they had, and sat on her couch and watched Netflix. She watched every episode of Outlander. She watched all six seasons of Breaking Bad. She ate all the chips and most of the ice cream. She might have also puked all the chips and most of the ice cream, but it didn’t matter.