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"Mom!"
"What?" she said. "I checked your blog. You didn't mention him anywhere in it, and when I talked to Sadie she just hemmed and hawwed at me."
"You talked to Sadie?" I said. "When?"
"On our way over," she said. "From the airport."
In the past thirty minutes, then. I was sure to have several frantic messages and at least five texts on my phone from Sadie warning me about the coming storm. But stupid me, I was getting ready to get fucked like a dog. I needed to get my priorities in order.
"Well," I said, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but it really was a spur of the moment. We were going to have a wedding and everything—" I glanced at Anton, but he was busy trying to kill my mother with his mind. "—but we sort of... got swept up in the moment."
My mother waved her hand. "I don't want to hear it," she said. "You have to think about other people once in a while, Felicia. You can't be so selfish!"
I almost lost it, then. Almost told her that I'd married this guy for his money because she was sick and Dad was broke, but at the last second I caught myself. She wanted to keep her illness a secret, that was just fine with me. I'd do it for her. I'd save her life and she wouldn't even know it. I'd be like one of those dumb girls in fairytales.
"I'm sorry," I said again. "But it's done."
"It is not done," she said. "You are going to have a wedding. A proper one, for all our friends and family."
I blinked. "Um," I said. "I guess. But... you know, you'd have to pay for it."
She waved her hand. "Of course. I know we aren't as rich as your husband—" She spat the word like it was poison. "—but I'm sure we'll do very well for ourselves."
I glanced at my father. His eyes were on me, huge and pleading.
She didn't know. She didn't know he was broke.
Well. Didn't that just take the cake? What kind of ridiculous drama was he trying to drag me into?
I narrowed my eyes at him, promising him we'd Talk Later, then turned back to my mom. "All right, we'll have a wedding. But did you have to show up unnanounced?"
She threw her hands in the air. "Would you have answered your phone if you'd seen me calling?" she asked.
She probably had a point.
"Well, Anton and I were going to go out to dinner," I began.
"Oh? Good. We shall accompany you."
Just invite yourself along, why don't you? I thought. But that was my mother. Always trying to compensate for my father's inattention by drawing the attention of the world to herself. She didn't let herself think she wouldn't be welcome at a dinner between a recently married man and wife.
I opened my mouth to tell her we were going to go on our own, thank you very much, but then she began to cough.
And didn't stop.
Dread curdled in my stomach. Had she come all the way out here while undergoing treatment? She looked so thin. Was she going to continue treatment here? Was she dying?
Was this the last time I was going to see my mother?
I glanced at Anton, and though he still had a murderous glare on his face, he wavered enough to meet my eyes.
I'm sorry, I mouthed at him.
His lips tightened and he looked away. I tried not to let it hurt me, but his rejection stung like a knife deep in my belly. But I couldn't turn my back on my mother. She was the reason I had done all of this.
Grabbing a glass, I filled it with water and hurried over to her. "Okay, Mom," I said, pressing it into her hand. "We'll go to dinner."
She sipped water and the coughing fit passed. "Good," she said. "I'm hungry. Show your father a spare room where we can put our bags.
