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I’m tempted to tell her she shouldn’t pick up such a habit now; she might die from trying.
“All good news must be celebrated, my darling.”
“You’re right. Sooo, my other good news is, I'll be in Brazil for six months after the honeymoon, then Chanel wants me to do Fashion Week.” She shrieks, and everyone—except me—bursts into a round of gasps and applause. “Lawrence said he’ll visit me a couple times a month while I’m away.”
And I’m sure his bed friends will keep him warm at other times.
I’m not jealous. No. It isn’t that at all. And I’d don’t actually know if Lawrence is a cheater.
I’m bitter and reserved because I’m never celebrated and I’ve always had to compromise. I was the daughter who was treated like an inconvenience. And it seemed like Dad would only remember to be my father when he wasn’t around Melissa and Natalie.
“You are so lucky,” Layla, another bridesmaid, says.
“I know.” Natalie giggles.
Jesus, I can’t stand this. She’s the only person I’ve ever known who has never said thank you when complimented. Everything is ‘I know’ or something about how amazing her life is, so it’s to be expected.
I hate this lifestyle. I really do. I wish I could be the spoiled little rich girl living off daddy's bank account and praises, but that’s not me.
Maybe if I'd been born into that kind of life, it would've been easier. Or not. I just can’t imagine myself being anything like my present company. They make the Plastic’s fromMean Girlslook like small fry. There isn’t one among them anyone would consider to be a nice, down-to-earth person.
“My darling daughter was born lucky.” Melissa gives a little clap of delight, picks up her champagne, and takes a sip. “That’s why she deserves the best. The best career, the best man, the best wedding.”
“Oh, Mom, you’re thebest.” Natalie smiles at her doting mother.
“I know.” Mellissa makes a show of gracefully turning her palms up.
Like mother, like daughter. Pretentious and pompous, while people like me are expected to fall in line like a worker ant.
“What about you, Serenity?” Bella asks. “Aren’t we supposed to be expecting a wedding from you, too? Or is that a no-go?”
The question coming from her doesn’t surprise me. After Matthew went off with her the other night, I expected something like this. I don’t know what he told her, but I’m sure she wants to know what’s going on between us.
“We'll see how things go,” I say, and even though it’s the right thing to say, it feels wrong.
“See how things go?” Deidre, bridesmaid number five, scuffs, as if I just said something blasphemous. “You do realize you’re talking about Matthew Bouchard, right?”
“Yes.” My voice is flat and purposely unimpressed.
She studies my face like someone searching for the proverbial needle in the haystack. “Do you know how many women would love to be in your shoes?”
“No. How many?” I answer the rhetorical question with a question because I’m in no mood for this shit.
“Don't mind her,” Melissa says, with the flick of her perfectly manicured fingers. “She's always like this. She wouldn’t know the worth of a good man even if she were given a clue.”
They laugh. I hate people laughing at me in any capacity, but I take the hit. If I respond with what I’d truly like to say, it will cause World War III.
“So, there’s no wedding planned, then?” Bella prods, her eyes lighting up with ideas I can practically see spinning around in her head. She’s probably thinking of hooking up with him again and just checking for future obstacles.
“Not at this moment.” My tone is stiff. “But since you know him so well, maybe you should ask him for all the details.”
Melissa cuts me a look so sharp it could slice through my face. I know I was rude, but I don't care. Some things need to be said.
“Unfortunately, manners weren’t something she inherited from her father. The lack of it must have come from the mother.” Melissa scowls, shaking her head at me in disgust.
When I was younger, she used to say shit like that all the time. I let her have that other comment about me not knowing the worth of a good man, but I’m not going to sit here and allow her to insult my mother in front of all these people.
“Thank God I also inherited my mother's natural beauty my father first fell for. Ask anyone; they’ll tell you it was love at first sight.”
