Page 113 of Bound To Be Mine

Mandy: I’m so sorry. Wedding emergency. Bride’s sister just showed up drunk and caused a scene. I have to handle this. Can we talk tomorrow?

I stared at the message. Tomorrow. We’d been saying tomorrow for three days now.

Me: Of course. Handle your emergency. Call me when you can.

Mandy: Thank you for understanding. I miss you so much.

Me: Miss you too.

I sighed and pulled off my tie. Did she miss me or was this just her placating me? Pretty soon, the whole missing thing would be over. It would be dulled.

I had to make my move now. Shit or get off the pot.

34

MANDY

Istared down at my phone—or what used to be my phone—covered in white buttercream frosting. The screen was completely dark, unresponsive to my frantic tapping. Frosting was crusted in the edges.

The groom was stomping around the kitchen, scaring the catering staff. Apparently, someone had given his mother fish instead of the steak and that meant a temper tantrum. He threw my phone in a bowl of frosting. My phone. Not his. Not the bride’s, mine.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw the phone at his perfectly coiffed head. Instead, I took a deep breath and turned to face him with what I hoped was a calm, professional expression.

“I understand your concern,” I said through gritted teeth. “Let me speak with the chef and we’ll send out another plate.”

His bride appeared at his elbow, looking mortified. “Honey, can we please just eat? Your mom said it’s fine. “

“No!” He turned to her, his face flushed. “This is our wedding day. Everything needs to be perfect. Don’t you care about that?”

I watched her face crumple, tears forming in her eyes. That was it. I was done.

“Can I speak with you privately?” I said to the groom, my voice deadly calm.

He blinked at me, clearly surprised by my tone. “What?”

“Privately. Now.”

I didn’t wait for him to respond. I walked out of the kitchen, knowing he’d follow. The bride shot me a grateful look as I passed.

Once we were in the relative privacy of the service entrance, I turned on him.

“Listen to me very carefully,” I said, my voice low. “Your bride has spent months planning this day, and right now, she’s crying because you’re having a meltdown over a piece of fish. A perfectly cooked piece of fish I might add. Is that really how you want to start your marriage?”

His mouth opened and closed.

“Every single element of your wedding was perfect. The meals being served to your guests are delicious. Everyone has said so. But none of that matters if you make your bride miserable on what’s supposed to be the happiest day of her life.”

“My mom paid for the caterer,” he hissed.

“I understand. Let her take up the mistake with them. Go back in there. Eat your steak. Your mother probably already has her steak by now. Enjoy the rest of your night. Go back out there, apologize to her, tell her the food is perfect, and you’re going to enjoy your wedding. Do we understand each other?”

He stared at me for a long moment, then nodded slowly.

“Good. Now go.”

I watched him slink back to the reception hall, then looked down at my ruined phone. I tried pressing the power button one more time. Nothing.

I wanted to cry. I was supposed to call Briggs tonight. And now my phone was a paperweight.