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“No, you’re not, but you will be,” Fiona tells her. “But if you think getting married withoutmeis a good idea, be prepared for averyserious talking-to.”
“And this wasn’t a serious conversation?” Boen asks as he pushes me aside to take his turn hugging Fiona.
“Oh no,” Fiona says in all seriousness. “She’s responsible—both her and Grayson— are the cause of this. And you two.” She points to David and Biba. “We all need to see the end of this, with the two of them walking down the aisle. And not with an Elvis at the end.”
“Sounds good to me.” David puts an arm around Biba.
There is more talking, some tears from Fiona and Bexley—happy tears this time—and Rachel makes us recap the whole ceremony. Then Biba asks about the shopping and Fiona shows off her ring.
Then Shae takes pictures and scoops everyone by posting about it on Instagram.
Within moments, the texts begin.
“I should tell my brother,” Fiona says, still clinging to my hand. “Not that he’s on line much, but I’d rather he hear it from me.”
“And I have to tell my—” The chime signaling FaceTime interrupts and I check with a resigned sigh. “Hey,” I say when Carter appears on the screen.
The sight of my sister’s face drains all the cheer out of me.
“Mase, Grandfather insists you come home immediately to discuss this,” Carter says without any preamble.
“Well, it won’t be immediately, because I’m doing a little celebrating with my friends first.”
“Are you still married?”
Fiona sucks in her breath beside me, prompting me to stand up and stalk into the bedroom.
I can feel her gaze on me, all of their gazes and all I want to do is shut the door to it, hiding this part of my life.
But they’re all part of my life now, so what good would that do? “What’s that supposed to mean?” I bark. “And how does he know anyway? It’s not like he’s checking social media.”
“It’s all over social media,” Carter says. “I had to tell him.”
“I don’t know anything of the sort. You could have waited until I did it myself. Which I had every intention of doing.” I say that, even though the reality is that all I wanted to do is hide with Fiona until the world forgot about me.
Sounded like a good plan in my head.
“I was being proactive.”
“You can shove proactive up my—”
“Mase.” Carter’s voice morphs from businesswoman to sister in the blink of an eye. “Please. You’ve got to come home. And bring—her.”
“Fiona. Her name is Fiona.”
“You have to come home,” she says simply. “Grandfather wants to talk to you.”
I close my eyes. Grandfather usually expresses his displeasure through mediators—usually Carter, but sometimes he forces my mother to talk to me as a way of parenting me through her. To be summoned by him—which is exactly what this is, a summons—means it’s serious.
He’s seriously mad.
And like always, I obey his wishes.
“Yeah,” I say heavily. “Let me make sure Fiona gets home and I’ll be there.”
“No. Now.”
This is really bad. Very bad. I close my eyes again, fear tightening my insides Yes, I’m afraid of my grandfather. It’s hard not to be when you grow up with a tyrant.
