her whatever you want, Liv. I have to go.”
“No, Sophie. Please tell me where you are—”
But it was too late. Her sister had already disconnected the call.
Olivia stood there trying to get her bearings, trying to figure out how to fix this mess—and quickly. It was best not to push Sophie about the brunch. Olivia kicked herself for scheduling the bachelorette party the weekend before the wedding. She should’ve done this last month. Sophie wasn’t a partier and she was probably exhausted and overwhelmed by all the hoopla leading up to her wedding day. The best thing Olivia could do right now was to show her sister some compassion, give her the space she so clearly needed.
They’d simply tell Dana and Monica that Sophie was under the weather. Given the Fuzzy Handcuffs, that wouldn’t be such a stretch.
As Olivia made her way upstairs to tell Zoe and Rachel that she’d talked to Sophie, she saw Mason at the front desk.
She called out to him and steeled herself for a frantic response from the bridegroom, but Mason smiled at her, appearing remarkably calm.
“Hey, Liv. What’s the latest?”
Good old Mason, the calm to Sophie’s occasional dramatic storm. She said a silent prayer that they would be able to weather this Category Five. How, exactly, did one explain that his fiancée was possibly backing out of the wedding? Then, in a moment of clarity, Olivia realized that even if her careless words had set off Sophie, it was Sophie’s responsibility to tell Mason she wanted to call things off, not hers.
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