I want to ask what reason she has to be upset with me, but a loud shriek interrupts me.
“You’re somean!” Vivienne cries harder. Andreas glares at her like he’d love nothing more than to strangle her, and Mick notices and pokes her in the side. “Why are you hurting me?” she screams.
Dad’s eyes flare.Oh shit.He’s never found a drama he didn’t love—or want to be at the center of. He runs up to us, arms spread, and hugs Grace hard. “Ignore the commotion, honey. It doesn’t concern you. You have me—Daddy Teddy.”
Daddy Teddy?Ugh. No.
He isn’t finished. He puts his hands on Grace’s shoulders. “I predict that you will end up with a baby who can sing like an angel. I always wanted one of those. Ideally a girl. Girls are more fun. Welcome to the family, my love! And you can ignore that crying bitch! Jesus, I’ve seen fourth-rate porn actresses who can turn on the waterworks better than that.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Grace
The wedding is overwhelming. I’m actually shocked the ceremony happened at all. When Andreas said Huxley’s plane still hadn’t landed three hours before the starting time, I thought he was going to have his revenge by not showing at all, thereby humiliating me in front of everyone. Viv would’ve pointed and laughed hysterically with joy, and Karie would’ve smiled that smarmy, simpering smirk she always uses when she doesn’t want to seem overtly pleased.
But Huxley came.And he defended the questionable choices for the wedding and my gown, making it clear to everyone it’s actually quite fashionable to have “Amazing Grace” and a black gown.
He’s a very intelligent man. He has to know why I picked black. And yet he defended me.
Why did he change his stance?I can’t reconcile the heartless man who told me our marriage might as well be a funeral and doesn’t care about our baby with the man who took revenge on Nelson for me and made that perfect public statement to everyone.
Have I married a Jekyll and Hyde? And am I ever going to be able to tell which one I’m dealing with?
The reception is even more overwhelming. On paper, it looked fine. Order this and that. Make special arrangements for certain guests with food restrictions and allergies. Seat peoplehere and there. Oh, and learn to waltz, because that’s going to be the first dance. Of course, Madison should’ve told me as soon as she found out rather than waiting until the week before, but overall the planning wasn’t that bad.
The actual event is insane. Toast after toast, glasses are raised. The music, the dancing, the constant press of people—it’s all simply too much. And then there’s the emotional rollercoaster I’ve been riding, all the way from fretting over the possibility that Huxley might not show to the shock of Viv’s outburst. These sorts of ups and downs are not what I’m used to. Not coming so quickly one after another, anyway.
Still, I manage to paste on a smile and fake being a happy bride. At least I’ve been spared morning sickness so far. It’d be a sight if I threw up in the middle of all this chaos.
Suddenly, it’s time for Huxley and me to have our first dance as a married couple.Oh crap.How do you waltz again? One-two-three…and…? The steps I practiced every night have disappeared from my memory. Panic surges, and I feel like a kid who’s blanking out on every word she memorized for a spelling bee.
“Breathe,” Huxley says as he leads me to the floor.
I inhale, trying to control the anxious flutter in my gut. He doesn’t smell like a man who was flying until three, four hours ago. His woodsy soap reminds me of the pine forest Mom and I visited on our last vacation together in Flagstaff, and it calms the agitation in my belly.
“I’m nervous.” I lick my dry lips.
His eyes drop briefly to my mouth before rising again. “It’s just a simple waltz.”
“Easy for you to say. You undoubtedly know how to waltz. You were probably born waltzing. I’ve barely had a week to master this.”
“Shouldn’t have procrastinated. Anyway, don’t worry. Follow my lead, and nobody’ll know if you mess up.”
I look at him, disbelieving.
A corner of his mouth quirks. “I promise. Just relax and leave it to me.” He puts a large, firm hand on my back. Despite my nerves, the warmth sends a spark of excitement along my spine.
The music starts, the strains from string instruments rising. My pulse races, anxiety and sexual anticipation mingling. He’s a man of large physical appetites, and he’s going to want me in his bed tonight.
“Breathe,” he says again.
I realize I’ve been holding my breath all this time. No wonder I felt worse and worse.
He waits for me to exhale, then gently moves to the beat. “You’re doing very well. You think I was born waltzing?Youwere born to waltz.” He waggles his eyebrows exaggeratedly.
I laugh a little. He does a fancy twirl and dip, making my heart jump. “See?” He smiles.
I nod and smile back, even though I’m not sure about his motivations. He might be making an effort because he knows it was unfair to expect me to master the dance in a week, and he doesn’t want to look bad out here on the floor. On the other hand, I can’t deny that he’s being considerate, and even though it might not be entirely for my benefit, I feel myself softening toward him.
