I sighed. It seemed that neither time nor distance would allow me to leave my sordid past in the past. I mean, you have one bad day when you stumble upon the anniversary party that your boyfriend, whom you thought was single, is throwing for his wife, you inadvertently throw some cake at him, and BAM!—you’re labeled the party crasher for life. It wasn’t fair. I blamed my red hair. If I were a cool brunette like the woman standing before me, I was quite certain the video would not have gotten the 3.2 million views it had.

“Yes, that’s me,” I said. At least the part about bagging Harrison Wentworth seemed to be a compliment, although I would argue that it was him who bagged me.

“Well, you are just the person I need,” Piper said. She slid her arm through mine as if we were old friends—pushy!—and then began to walk in the direction of the shop, leaving Andre and Bella to follow.

I noted that Bella did not jump on Piper. In fact, it appeared to me that she was giving her side-eye as if jealous that Piper had managed to draw the attention of the adults away from her canine self. I could sympathize. No one likes a limelight thief.

“With what do you need help?” I asked.

“My wedding,” Piper said. “Specifically, the fascinators for the bridal party.”

“Isn’t your wedding next month?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. Her long legs ate up the sidewalk with determined efficiency. I had to scurry to keep up. Andre was behind us, looking relieved that I was the one who was presently the focus of Piper’s attention. “I’m in a fizz, as my original designer, Javier Sebastian, has been embroiled in a scandal.”

“Scandal?” Andre chimed in from behind us.

Piper waved her free hand dismissively. “He murdered his lover by putting cyanide in his food and then fled the country with my money all because of his little drama. I need to get this sorted right away.”

“Little drama,” I repeated.

I glanced over my shoulder at Andre to see if he was getting this. He raised his eyebrows and made a face that told me he was equally horrified and, yet, not surprised.

“Where did he even get cyanide?” I asked. “I mean, it’s not like you can just pick it up at the Tesco in the how-to-lose-a-lover section.”

Piper turned her head to look at me. She examined me from head to toe again, and I was immediately as self-conscious as a middle-schooler with a pimple on the end of their nose.

“You’re funny,” she said. But she didn’t laugh. “Vivian probably enjoys that.” She didn’t say it, but I felt it was implied that she did not—enjoy it, that is.