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Elephant in the room
One year later
Duke was willing to keep our agreement going and I decided the devil I knew was still my best bet. I just wanted to get the hell away from everything and everyone.
I never wanted to put my heart in another’s hands again. Not my father, not my brothers, not a man who would be my lover. I want the clinical, calculated relationship Duke was offering. It would insulate me from scrutiny, get me away from my father, and I would use that money for good.
It was a better offer than I deserved. I’d humiliated him and insulted him. He was offering me a second chance. So, I took it. We resumed our public relationship with very little fanfare or explanation.
We’re getting married and one step closer to what we both want - Independence from our families.
My father, recovered very quickly from the shock of learning he had another son, was up in the polls, and with election day a month away, this wedding would be great PR for him.
For me, it was a means to an end.
“Is the dress pressed?” My grandmother demands of the young woman she introduced as Bridgette. I look up at her in the mirror. She’s watching Bridgette with an expression that is uniquely hers. It’s the most interesting juxtaposition of humility and smug satisfaction.
Bridgette, even though she’s on the other side of the room, still visibly shrinks under her withering gaze. She smiles, her eyes dart nervously between us. My grandmother stares at her expectantly and she flushes.
“It’s being pressed now.”
“It should have been here already, Bridgette, check on them” my grandmother snaps irritably.
The young woman glances at her watch. “It’s on schedule.”
“Have you seen it? We won’t have time for last-minute alterations if something isn’t right.”
“She had a fitting two days ago, it was perfect. The dress is a confection. The gossamer is so light, it floats.” Her eyes get a dreamy faraway look in them and I want to tell her that if she loves it so much, maybe she should wear it instead of me.
I’m sure she’d make a much more suitable wife for Duke than I would. She looks the part. I mean, I do too, but it took a lot of work and layers of makeup to achieve what she does just by waking up.
“I didn’t ask for your opinion on the dress.”
She gives a startled glance at my grandmother and bristles.
“I’m sorry,” she says mechanically, her expression one of complete bewilderment.
“Your apology is accepted,” my grandmother says, accepting her confusion as a sign of contrition. Bridgette flashes me a sympathetic smile, as if to say, “Glad she’s not my grandmother.”
She goes back to packing the suitcase that’s open on the bed.
Duke and I are leaving for Thailand for our honeymoon tomorrow. I watch as she lays more lingerie into the case and want to tell her not to bother. I’ve got no one to wear that for. Duke and I have separate rooms at the resort and I’m going to do my best to pretend he doesn’t exist for the two weeks we’ll be away. I’m taking my books, my bikinis, and my earphones. I’m going to sleep, and take pictures, sketch and get ready to come home and step into the role I tried so hard to escape.
“I’m glad you made the right decision.” She smiles and I give her a tight smile in return. I wish she would leave. This day is hard enough without her hovering.
“You must be getting so excited. The party is going to be beautiful. The flowers are to die for, it’s like a botanical garden in the ballroom,” Bridgette says brightly, turning her attention back to me.
“It better be. We’ve spared no expense.” There’s a thread of a threat in her voice and Bridgette gulps. I’m sure she regrets taking this job. Working for Fiona means essentially that she works for Agnes. And my grandmother is the hardest person in the world to please.
“Yes, it’s totally worth it. Hampton Court comes to Winsome,” she gives her reassuring smile. I feel sorry for her a little when her smile starts to struggle in the face of my grandmother’s unwaveringly unimpressed stare.
I want to pat her hand and tell her to not take it personally. She’s a “I’ll see it when I believe it” kind of person.
Her approval is won only by results and excellence.
She doesn’t have a sentimental bone in her body.
“We have a very tight schedule and we can’t be late for church.” At the mention of that church, I think about the last time I was in there…with Carter, and tears prick my eyes.
