Page 2 of Some Kinda Romance

“Will you just marry me already?” Mom finished for him, making her voice several octaves deeper to mimic his. She laughed, her hand still on his shoulder and her head leaning down on it now too. “It was so spur of the moment. So romantic.”

“It wasn’t that spur of the moment,” he objected lightly. “I had the ring already, gentlemen. Don’t worry. I would never ask a woman like your mother for her hand in marriage without one.”

Oh, so you’d have asked a different woman without one? What the hell?

Asher, Finn, and Corbin chuckled, but neither Zachary or I managed much more than a polite smile. We weren’t that much older than them, all of us born two, max three, years apart. Zachary was thirty-five, I was thirty-three, Finn thirty, Ash twenty-eight, and Corbin twenty-six, but right now, it felt like there were decades between us.

We’d all been adults when Dad had passed, all vowing to be there for our mother. I wondered if perhaps their joy was brought on by relief that she would have a companion again from now on. Over dinner, they kept talking about the details, chattering about unimportant things, like whether they were going on a honeymoon, until I finally cut to the chase. “I’ll get the venue ready. Just give me a date and I’ll block it out on the calendar.”

“That won’t be necessary, darling,” she said, her jovial mood dissipating for a moment as she met my gaze. “We’ve chosen Serenity Halverson’s venue for the wedding.”

I blinked. Hard. Feeling like I’d received a blow to the stomach, I scoffed and got up. “I’ve heard the name but didn’t realize she had a wedding business. I need a refill.”

Grabbing my glass, I spun away from the table, muttering under my breath once I was out of earshot. “Unbelievable. Un—fucking—believable.”

Not only was she getting married, but she couldn’t even pay my father the respect he deserved by doing it at our family’s wedding venue. The St. Clair Equestrian Estate was one of the most sought-after venues in the entire Los Angeles County, but apparently, it wasn’t good enough for Richard.

A deep scowl settled on my face as I reached the bar. I’d just picked up a bottle of wine when Zachary spoke up behind me. “Storming away from dinner isn’t really your style.”

“It’s not yours either,” I snapped before drawing in a breath and doing my utmost to collect myself. I glanced at him when he joined me at the counter, setting his own empty glass down next to mine. “I’m sorry. It’s just…”

“Too soon for her to be getting married?” he guessed when I trailed off. His dark eyes hooked on mine as he nodded. “I completely agree.”

“And to not even use our venue? What’s up with that? Isn’t it the least she could’ve done?”

“You’d think so, but it seems she’d disagree.” He sighed, handing over the corkscrew and inclining his head at the bottle in my hand. “I need more alcohol, so either you open it or I will.”

I took it from him. My actions were rather more violent than usual as I sliced through the protective foil covering the cork and jammed the screw right into it. “What does Serenity Halverson’s venue have that ours doesn’t?”

We specifically catered to the mega rich, celebrities and high society clientele. My mother fit that bill perfectly. Our place was beautiful and iconic, kind of like the Boathouse in New York. It was synonymous with style, class, and the upper crust. Not just anyone could get married there, and if you could, you did.

Moreover, what were people going to think if Diana St. Clair didn’t get married at the St. Clair Estate? What would it say about our father’s legacy?

“It’s not even Serenity’s venue, it’s her husband’s,” I ground out as the cork slid free. “I mean, I like the guy. At least he’s a professional, but⁠—”

“Actually,” Zachary said thoughtfully. “I think I read somewhere that she got it in the divorce, which means it’s hers now.”

I groaned. “Right. I’d forgotten about that, but it makes it even worse. It’s going to be amateur hour over there.”

“Yeah, well, imagine how her ex, Ethan, feels,” Zach said. “If memory serves, she got everything, including the venue and the wedding-planning company.”

“But she’s a socialite. A reality TV star. What does she know about planning weddings?”

He dragged a hand through his near-black hair as I filled up his glass. “I don’t know, but I guess we’re going to find out. I suppose with a name like hers, she’s attended her fair share of weddings. I just don’t know if she’s planned one before.”

I grimaced. “I doubt it. I didn’t really watch her show. I might’ve caught an episode here and there, but didn’t she only have to go live in a house in some other city for a couple months? If I recall, there wasn’t much more to it than that. Just a bunch of twenty-somethings in a house, talking shit and driving each other crazy.”

He shrugged. “They also had to get jobs. Perhaps she worked in the event-planning industry for a stretch.”

I arched a doubtful eyebrow at him. “I’m willing to bet that the closest she’s ever come to planning an event was watching her ex-husband do it.”

And soon enough, I would have to meet with her. Knowing my mother, a meeting had already been set and it would be in a day or two from now. At most.

My eyes closed and I swirled the wine in my glass before I took a sip. I’d been operating the premiere wedding coordination company and venue in the city for twelve years, and I was about to start planning my mother’s wedding with someone who’d likely never done it before.

It was a disaster, and one I definitely didn’t have the time or the patience for. As I opened my eyes and looked at Zachary again, I saw my own frustration swimming around in his gaze. He might not be as actively involved in this shitshow as I would inevitably be, but one thing was for sure.

My brother and I both loathed every moment of this, yet for only the second time in our lives, there was nothing we could do to stop it from happening. I’d only ever felt this helpless once, and that had been when our father had passed.

A memory I certainly didn’t need to be reliving now, and especially not with his widow, his loving wife, the one who was making me do it.