Paige
nineteen
Christmas brunch is less awkward than it could have been due to our appearance at the Fairchild Christmas Eve Dinner buttering up Mama, but I didn’t sleep well and I’m feeling the effects of the emotional strain of the last few weeks.
Meeting an old friend of Hayes’s, and realizing we suffered the same fate at Hayes’s hands, was troubling.
It reminded me that my husband is a ruthless man willing to go to any lengths to get what he wants, regardless of the casualties.
It kept me up, tossing and turning, so now my brain is foggy, and I’m distracted, which is bad news when Mama is intent on making things more difficult any chance she gets.
I blink gritty eyes at her and swallow my own bite of French toast that now feels like a lump of coal going down slowly and settling heavily in my stomach.
“William, would you like to tell her?” she prods.
“Darling Caroline, this is all your doing. Please, if you will, tell her yourself,” Daddy drawls, cup of coffee in hand.
My eyes grow wide and my movements still. This is as good as telling Mama to eff off, as he has always steadfastly backed her up when she got on a wild hair. Whatever she has to say doesn’t bode well for me if Daddy is openly disagreeing with her, even in as genteel of a manner as he has.
Mama glares at Daddy momentarily before composing herself with a tight smile and returning her gaze to me. “We must start planning your wedding, dearest.”
I stare between them before flicking a glance at Hayes who sits quiet and motionless beside me. I don’t think either of us had this on our Christmas bingo cards.
“But… we’re already married,” I say.
“You did it all wrong and we must make things right for people to think this will last,” she says forcefully, and finally her true feelings are on display.
“Mama, I don’t care what people think. Hayes and I are perfectly fine with how we did things, there is no reason for us to get married again.”
I was thrilled at the idea of escaping the big to-do Mama would have made of a wedding by eloping.
This conversation now makes me feel like I didn’t escape a thing and I’m about to be under her thumb once again.
A beautiful butterfly she’s pinned to a mat to put on display for all to see.
Hayes places a hand on mine where I’ve gripped my fork so hard my knuckles are white.
“Why would you want to host a wedding now?” he asks, his question startling Mama and forcing her to look his way.
She visibly bristles. She may enjoy introducing him to her high society circles, but she still doesn’t like him very much.
“Paige is our daughter; we want what’s best for her and don’t want her to regret her decisions down the road.” Mama, ever the practiced control freak, is in fine shape. “Not having a formal wedding is a travesty. I can’t let her forego this tradition just because you coerced her to elope.”
“I wasn’t coerced, I chose to marry Hayes exactly how I wanted to,” I say, my voice wobbly with the effort not to devolve into the whining of a contrary child arguing a tired point yet again.
It was wishful thinking to imagine I could get away with an elopement and rob Mama of this opportunity to have the final say in my life once again.
She would never willingly relinquish her control over something so sacred as a social event, and a wedding is the biggest of its kind.
Maybe I was too hasty in my attempt to repair our relationship and allow her back into my life.
She’s just as calculating and twice as ornery now that I’ve started to push back.
If I’m not careful, she will be picking out my wedding dress and telling me what to wear to the rehearsal, just like so many other functions in my life.
Mama scoffs. “Paige, you know that isn’t true.
You chose the easy way out to avoid your obligations.
Now, we must do our duty for society.” She holds out a hand to stop my pending protest. “Whether or not you understand it now, a wedding is exactly what you need.
As horrible as it is, that nasty gossip site has focused its attention on you and his business,“ she says, indicating Hayes with a flick of her wrist. “Give them something else to focus on, or the scrutiny will eat you alive and leak into every aspect of your lives.”
“You want to give them a distraction by hosting a wedding?” Hayes asks slowly.
“I want to throw the wedding of the century, you deceitful man. They won’t be able to contain themselves.” Mama actually smiles like she relishes the idea. “And we need to do it next weekend. A New Year’s Eve wedding.”
“Mama, I say this with respect, but have you lost your mind? There is no way to plan the kind of event you are talking about in a week. It’s impossible.”
“When money is no object, anything is possible, and we have more money than we know what to do with,” she replies, and I gape at her unlikely disregard for what would otherwise be a taboo subject. Fairchilds do not discuss money, no matter how much we have.
“The Mansion is still ours through the end of the year. We can make it happen. We will call in whatever backup we need, we have the staff, and I have a planner already on retainer. This will happen, and it will be next weekend.” Her voice is firm.
There is simply no arguing with this hurricane of event planning schemes.
“Daddy, please tell me we aren’t doing this.” I look to my normal ally against Mama’s most absurd machinations, but he just shrugs a shoulder at me and looks defeated. Daddy is simply no match for Caroline Thackery Fairchild when her heart is set, and her plans laid.
“Your mother is insistent, sweet pea. There is no stopping her, unfortunately. I tried. Now we just hold on for the inevitable storm to roll through.”
“Hayes, please tell her this isn’t necessary and will just put us in the spotlight even more,” I say appealing to his natural inclination to keep a low profile in a last-ditch effort to stop the situation from completely getting away from me.
“I wish I could say she’s wrong on this, but she has a point.” Even he has turned on me. “We can have a wedding to make your mama happy and to draw some more positive attention toward Olympus. What do you say, angel, would you marry me all over again, even if it’s in front of all and sundry?”
The fight goes out of me when I see the unsure look on his face.
Here he is, doubting my feelings for him and maybe even wondering if we can survive everything that has been thrown our way in the short time we’ve been together.
He’s probably thinking a big wedding could be the bandage our relationship, and his business needs.
Mama’s voice draws my attention away from Hayes. “I’m willing to strike a bargain with you. Be a willing participant in this wedding—the way I want—and I will relinquish control of the trust. It’ll be yours to do with as you wish, as will your inheritance, without my interference.”
Shock of a different variety settles over me, and I feel my mouth gaping.
Mama would never willingly relinquish control over the tightly held Thackery trust that she has wielded like a weapon against me on so many occasions to get me to fall in line.
For her to tell me my participation would grant me access to the inheritance that has always been held over my head to make me behave, is a shot at freedom I never expected.
It’s not even about the money—marrying Hayes made me a billionaire in my own right—it’s about the chance to remove one last shackle that would effectively sever the control Mama has always held over me, forcing me to be compliant and codependent.
She knows the exact way to get me to concede, once again.
The gleam in her eye shows me she knows she’s won before I can even respond.
“Fine,” I sigh in defeat. “But I’m picking my own dress and Alex will be my man of honor without any additional bridesmaids.”
Mama claps her hands. “Good. I’m glad you could see things my way.
We have a tasting appointment with the caterer and baker tomorrow at noon, followed by an appointment with the florist at three.
We can squeeze in a dress appointment before the tasting or after the florist, but you’ll have to hold back at the tasting so you’re not bloated if you choose that option. ”
Mama quickly appraises my oversized green Christmas sweater as if looking for my current shape and being dissatisfied at not being able to tell if I have gained any more weight since my debutante ball.
“I’ve already had Cecile at the bridal shop pull every dress on the rack in your size, but it may still be slim pickings.”
I bring my hands to my forehead, pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes as my head spins.
Good lord, Mama had the audacity to set events in motion before she even approached me about the subject.
Her confidence in her ability to wear me down and get me to capitulate to her demands is a disturbing insight into our dysfunctional relationship.
I’m about to recant my acquiescence just by sheer overwhelm alone, the trust be damned.
And I haven’t begun to imagine all of the possible ways Mama will be leading the charge this week.
This is a mistake, and it will be awful.
“Mama, I—“ I start, but she cuts me off.
“I have a photographer from New York booked already. She has an impressive portfolio and a great eye. She will shoot your bridals two days before the wedding, so I booked a hair and makeup artist for both days, also.”