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I literally bit my tongue. And hard. I keep my teeth sinking in. I know the moment I let go, I’ll let every thought in my mind hurl at them.
“I think we’re good here, Mom.” Austin jumps in, thankfully.
“Oh?” Mom replies, attempting to pull pity from us.
“Yeah, how about you guys go to the chapel ahead of us? Help us make sure everything is good to go?” Austin has never been good at lying, usually making me be the one. His voice is squeaky, causing him to clear his throat. “We haven’t been there yet, but they are supposed to decorate it for us. Kate picked out the decorations.”
Our parents look at each other and my heart starts racing. They aren’t falling for it.
“Well, can it wait a little bit?” Mom asks, trying to wear us down.
Austin pretends to check his phone. “Um, well we don’t really have much time.” Austin is spinning and I am still biting my tongue.
“What time is the wedding?” Dad finally speaks, letting me hear his voice for the first time in nearly a decade.
It shocks me enough to stop biting my tongue. “An hour. And we still have to finishing getting ready, like you said, Mom.” I keep my tone as even as possible but can’t hold back the subtle bite. She notices it too but decides to ignore it.
“Well, is there anyway you two could spare a few minutes to grab a drink from the bar?”
“Mom, we don’t have time,” I snap. “We have a wedding to get ready for and we don’t have time for chit-chatting. I’m supposed to be the first to get ready so I can start taking photos. Which is my job for today. So if you don’t mind, please, just go to the chapel and check on things. We’ll be there soon.”
Mom is blinking rapidly—which is one of her tells that she is not happy with me. Hell, when is she happy with me? “Fine. Just tell us where we’re going.”
“The Neon Chapel,” Austin and I recite at the same time.
“Where is it?” Dad’s second sentence graces us.
“It’s north. Up in Fremont,” I respond, hoping I’ve remembered correctly when looking at the map.
“We’ll meet you kids there.” Dad put his hand on Mom’s back, steering her for the elevator.
We let out a sigh of relief and both turned back toward Austin’s suite when we hear our dad’s voice bellow from down the hall. “You know what! Nothing has changed. You two are still just as spiteful and entitled as ever.”
“Frank, no,” Mom pleads.
I close my eyes and inhale, balling my fists.
“Don’t fall for it, ‘Kota.” Austin wraps his hand around my forearm, attempting—and failing—to keep me from letting them have it.
I rip my hand from his grip and spin around, storming toward the man who never respected or even loved me. “Entitled? Entitled!” I scream. “How fucking dare you!” I come within inches of him, poking my finger in his face. “Everything has changed. And for the better because, you know what, Austin has found a woman who loves and accepts him. He’s getting married and he’s a successful business owner. And for me? I get to travel the fucking world. I have my own business. I am a success. And I have an amazing woman by my side for all of it!” I blurt.
Shit. I’m not exactly lying. I am talking about Violet, but I took it too far.
Dad huffs and crosses his arms. “Oh, you’re still on this bullshit.” He shakes his head slowly as he looks down at me with disgust.
“What? A lesbian?” I spit.
“Yeah, I thought by now you’d be through this phase of yours. Finally smartened up. But I guess you’re still fooling around, thinking this is acceptable.”
I inhale, my nostrils flare, and my jaw trembles. “You fucking piece of shit,” I growl. I feel the anger boiling in me, even stronger than before. Stronger than the first time he called me a disappointment. And even more when he called me disgusting. In front of my first girlfriend.
“Don’t talk to me like that, Dakota Marie!”
“I’d rather go on not even talking to you at all! But here you are, fucking crashing what is supposed to be the best day of Austin’s life! How fucking dare you!You’rethe despicable one.You’rethe entitled one. You’re thedisgustingone. Not Austin. Not me.You.”
I start to turn away from him when I feel Dad’s hand grip my arm. And not in the concerned way as Austin had done. Not in the gentle way Violet had. But in an angry, dominating way. I can’t pull from his grasp—not with how tightly he is squeezing my arm as he spins me back to him.
“Frank,” my mom pleads.
