22. That’s What I Call Crazy #2
Yet, here is a respectable, attractive adult who isn’t afraid to buck conventions and just ask me what he wants. Right about now, Wes is more than a breath of fresh air—he’s twenty lungfuls.
As if the text has summoned his name, I see my stepmom’s Gucci heeled sandals walk past the door, her voice still capable of making me cringe despite anticipating it.
Thankfully, she’s alone, and by the sounds of it, she’s talking on her cell.
To whom, I have no idea, but hearing Blythe say “that Holbrooke boy” raises my metaphorical hackles, especially since she sounds annoyed.
My stepmom obviously doesn’t realize I’m home, because she does nothing to lower her voice as she heads towards the master bedroom at the end of the hall.
“He was at the country club earlier playing tennis, and of course, Candice just couldn’t resist blabbing about who his father is and that he’s interested in Ali. ”
Again, this should give Blythe social currency, so the fact that she’s clearly pissed is more than telling.
Her voice trails off towards the master bedroom by the time I get to the door.
I peer around the corner, praying she’s disappeared into the closet or bathroom so that I can make my escape.
Instead, she’s standing right by the threshold, turned to the side, no doubt admiring herself in the mirror next to the door.
She’s also holding a champagne flute filled with what I suspect to be more than just orange juice.
By the loud voices and constant laughter downstairs, I suspect those ladies have been indulging in mimosas since returning from the country club.
It would also explain why Blythe speaks so openly.
The tipsier she gets, the louder her voice.
Not that anyone downstairs is at risk of overhearing her.
Even though they’re likely far off in the sunroom, I can still make out half a dozen distinct voices, and they all sound like a boisterous pack of hyenas.
“Seriously, they won’t shut up about him,” Blythe further complains, setting her glass down on the dresser in favor of a lipstick tube.
Whoever is on the other end of the phone must say something, because she uses the beat of silence to reapply her makeup.
“No, he’s quite handsome, not to mention charming, which makes it all the more baffling as to why he’s interested in Ali. ”
She laughs.
She fucking laughs !
And yet, she’s not done. “Kathleen introduced her daughter to Wesley this morning, so I’d say there’s a snowball’s chance in Hell that Ali will be hearing back from him anytime soon.” Another laugh.
Breathe.
Just breathe.
Just. Fucking. Breathe.
I try to, but my lungs can’t seem to expand properly, and they’re heaving far too quickly. I want to scream and cry and go slap Blythe in the face—
But I just stand there, silently seething.
You’d think that after all this time, I’d have a decent backbone built by now. Yet Blythe always manages to rip it right out of me and snap it in half.
But she’s wrong.
Regardless of the fact that Kathleen’s daughter, Madison, is a hotel heiress and absolutely beautiful, Wes still messaged me . Not only that, but he did so after he had been introduced to her.
Apparently, that snowball is a bit more durable than you think there, Blythe.
Only once the Stepmonster disappears into the bathroom do I make my escape downstairs, but I’m no longer tempted to run out the door.
Not when I get a “S.O.S.” text from Maggie warning me that Jase just pulled up into the driveway.
Hoping to avoid him at all costs, I take a detour down the back set of stairs that leads to the kitchen when I hear him enter the foyer.
Unfortunately, that also puts me in direct view of the sunroom when I reach the ground floor.
I anticipate the usual suspects to be in attendance at Blythe’s get-together, and sure enough, Courtney, Candice, and Cecilia are all there, along with my sister and a few other women from the country club I only know by face.
“Is that Ali?” Cecilia practically squeals at the sight of me when I head towards the refrigerator. “We’ve been hearing all about your illustrious new suitor. Spill the tea, girl!”
She must ask at least a dozen questions, none of which I want to answer, but seeing Jase saunter in from the foyer, I suddenly find my tongue loose enough to at least admit that I agreed to go on a date with Wes this Friday.
I know I’m an asshole, because a small part of me revels in watching Jase’s eyes narrow and his jaw tighten.
Yep, that’s right. Not only do I have a date, but it’s with the most eligible young man in town.
I’m almost tempted to smirk at him, but I manage to muzzle the impulse when Lauren comes in from the yard, lowering the phone from her ear.
“Ashley’s out,” she huffs, dropping into the empty seat beside Courtney.
“What happened?” Vanessa asks. “I thought she was supposed to be back here the week before the ceremony.”
“She broke her leg waterskiing in Mexico. She’s planning on attending the wedding itself, but her doctor says she’ll still have to use crutches.
Ashley isn’t exactly graceful on her feet, hence the accident.
And she really doesn’t want to risk face planting in front of a packed church, especially with the event being filmed. ”
“Well, at least it happened early enough that we still have time to replace her.” Vanessa unlocks her phone and starts scrolling. “How about Janice or Evelyn?”
Lauren grimaces. “I…I don’t know.”
“They’d both be good choices,” one of the younger women in the corner petitions. “They’re pretty, but not too pretty that they’d draw attention away from the bride.”
Lauren fidgets in her seat, clearly uncomfortable with the eight sets of eyes on her, but this only invites more ladies to interject.
She doesn’t want to offend anyone, so I bite the bullet and blurt, “Does Lauren even know either of them outside of exchanging a casual hello?”
All of those eyes turn to me, and I just smile awkwardly, hoping to sound offhanded and inoffensive. “I mean, it’s Lauren’s special day. Wouldn’t it be kind of weird to have a stranger up on the altar with her?”
The original petitioner and Vanessa both cut me a glare, but I ignore them the moment my future sister-in-law looks over at me in relief.
That look quickly shifts, however, into something more pleading. “Ali, would you mind terribly being a bridesmaid?”
An abrupt choking sound comes from behind me, and I turn to see Blythe coming down the back set of stairs, wide-eyed and peeved. I’m not sure what she deems worse: my very presence or the idea of me participating in the wedding. “What’s this now?”
Lauren fills her in on what happened, giving me a Puss In Boots face, and I swear she’s doing it without even trying. “Please, you’d really be doing me a solid.”
The Stepmonster flashes her best attempt at a “sympathetic” smile as she nods in my direction.
Sadly, it’s convincing to your average outsider.
She pats my shoulder so gently that you’d think I was crafted from ceramic, and it takes everything in me not to writhe away and peel off my skin where she touched.
Her bullshit already feels like a taint.
I don’t need her branding it to my flesh.
“Surely there has to be someone else. Another friend or family member, perhaps?”
I already assumed Lauren prefers quality over quantity, and she proves me correct. “The only woman in my family around my age is my cousin, and she’s already standing in the wedding, as are all of my friends.”
I turn my back to Blythe for barely five seconds to grab a bottle from the refrigerator, and she must mouth something, because Vanessa’s and Lauren’s expressions change drastically when I turn back around.
While Vanessa upgrades her annoyance to full-blown irritation, Lauren takes a newfound interest in the carpeting, evidently embarrassed that she thrust the spotlight on me.
“Sorry, Ali. I know you’re not a big fan of all this stuff.
It’s just that Vanessa’s going to be too busy coordinating everything that day, and I know Derek would love to have at least one of you stand up in the ceremony.
” Lauren tries waving off the topic like it was a stupid suggestion, but my brain stutters at this, so it takes me a minute to process everything she’s saying.
I’m being asked to serve in the bridal party, Blythe is clearly unhappy with this development, and never once have I ever stated that I don’t like weddings.
My eyes narrow almost imperceptibly on my stepmother, because I know damn well who planted that last seed in Lauren’s head.
It also makes sense now why Lauren got so uncomfortable last week, telling me it wasn’t necessary when I mentioned Derek’s suggestion of me doing a reading.
Instead of smacking Blythe over the head with the nearest frying pan, I give everybody the biggest, brightest smile I can. “I would be honored.”
The Stepmonster looks ready to crack teeth with how hard her jaw is set, and Lauren heaves out a much-needed breath, her muscles finally relaxing.
My future sister-in-law’s excitement only grows as Candace, who owns a boutique downtown, secures me the appointment for a dress fitting tomorrow afternoon.
To further add to Blythe’s displeasure, Candace mentions Wes again, telling me she has the “perfect little black number” in mind for our upcoming date. “You can try it on when you come to the shop tomorrow.”
It’s more than a little unsettling being here, and not just because I can feel Blythe’s laser vision trying to sear a hole through the side of my face.
All of the other ladies from the country club are actually being friendly.
More than friendly. They’re outright gushing like schoolgirls, as if I just landed a date with the hottest new A-list actor or athlete.
It’s definitely a change in attitude since some of the women were suspecting me of being one of their husband’s mistresses at Derek’s engagement party.
My phone vibrates, and I pull it out, expecting a message from Wes or Maggie. To my surprise, it’s from Reed.
Got the invitations for the rave at Murdock’s tonight if you want more recon.
Thank.
God.
Lord knows I’ll need it, since I only have more questions now.