Chapter Thirty
Huxley
Perhaps it’s the threat of termination or just sheer luck. Magically, the paperwork is in order—and my jet takes off.
I take a nap, then shower and freshen up. There’s barely enough time to reach the orangery for the ceremony once we land. Thank God I brought my tuxedo just in case. I put it on and slick my hair back.
“You look perfect,” Madison says with a small smile. “Allow me.” She reaches over and adjusts the tie. “Better.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m sorry about the snafu.”
I nod. “Don’t let it happen again.”
She pales a little. If she thought I’d say it was fine, she thought wrong. Her screwup bothers me more than I expected. I’m being manipulated into marrying a Webber to cement the families’ alliance. Normally, I’d do anything to stop the scheme. I might not have been so anxious to depart London if the woman I was being forced to wed was Vivienne.
For some reason I haven’t been able to sort out yet, I don’t want to leave Grace by herself at the altar. Perhaps having seen the hollow pain in her eyes when Nelson hit her affected me more than I realized. But I don’t ever want her to feel that bone-deep humiliation again, not in front of that godawful family of hers.
Once the plane touches down, I drive straight to the orangery. As I merge onto the highway, my phone alerts me to newly arrived texts.
–Grant: You ever gonna get here? Less than 2 hours left!
–Noah: Do you think Grace is armed?
–Nicholas: I wouldn’t blame her if she tried to shoot Hux. She wouldn’t even go to jail. One female juror, and bam ! Not guilty.
I roll my eyes.
–Me: There will be no jury nullification. I’m in LA now. Already driving.
–Emmett: Don’t drive and text!
–Me: I’m dictating.
–Grant: I don’t believe you. You haven’t made any errors.
–Me: Jealousy is such an ugly emotion.
–Griffin: Forget dictation errors! The real problem is that Dad got here with Joey, and now I can’t find him anywhere.
Fuck. My hand tightens around the steering wheel. What’s Dad up to now? I should’ve been there hours ago to keep on eye on things, especially him and Joey! Fucking Madison.
–Grant: Jesus, this wedding is doomed.
–Noah: So what? Hux never wanted to marry her.
–Me: That doesn’t mean I’ll jilt her.
–Noah: Why? Somebody blackmailing you?
The question makes me pause, since I haven’t been able to figure out the why yet. So I go for the first answer that pops to my head.
–Me: No. Emma’s attending.
My brothers don’t say anything. They know how I feel about Emmett’s mom—and that she’s my moral compass. I’m grateful Emma never sided with my family when it came to my career choices. She’s always encouraged me to spread my wings and soar to the heights of my dreams.
–Griffin: It’s hard, living up to another person’s standards.
–Me: If we all lived up to yours, we’d be living in caves and grunting to communicate.
–Griffin: Fuck you.
I chuckle despite the tension of the last forty-two hours. Griffin hates it that his mother expects him to live up to her standards—beautiful, fit and accessible. She almost always has a crisis when she’s between boyfriends—who are generally at least thirty years younger—and demands Griffin make everything better for her.
As I pull into the venue, I blink at all the black and white decorations. White, I understand. But don’t women like to pick something other than black for weddings?
I climb out, and Emmett notices and rushes over. “Finally! Sebastian said he’d kill you if he couldn’t hand off your custom rings personally. Apparently, Lucie’s really looking forward to seeing the designs, and he hasn’t shown ’em to her yet.”
“So Seb came through with the hardware. Good.”
“Did you really tell him they needed to be kept secret until you guys exchanged the rings?”
I nod. “What’s up with these colors?”
Emmett shrugs. “Got me. Your bride must love black and white. At least it’s pretty…?”
“More like inoffensive.”
We walk into the place. Mountains of white chrysanthemums are everywhere. They’re nice enough, but not the kind of flowers I expected. Grace seems like a rose and daisy kind of girl.
“Is this supposed to be a wedding or a funeral?” Aunt Akiko comes over. She’s in a brilliant red and cream kimono, which she takes out only when she feels the occasion is special enough to warrant it.
“A wedding,” I respond.
She nods. “Do white chrysanthemums mean love in America?” She blinks up at me.
“I wouldn’t know.” I wish I could ask Grace what she was thinking.
“Well. They’re going to start soon. At least the soprano looks competent.” She gestures vaguely at the direction of a singer in a pale blue dress.
“Looks that way.” Madison handled hiring the staff, so the singer will probably be okay.
I barely have time to say hello to the guests as I walk to the altar to wait for Grace. Emmett and Ares stand with me as my groomsmen. The others are unhappy, but with Grace not having any bridesmaids, it would be ridiculous to have all of them with me.
A quick scan of the audience doesn’t reveal where Dad is. Nelson, however, is badly bruised again. During one of the calls to set up the medical trust, Bryce said Nelson got carjacked. He didn’t resist—too chickenshit, of course—but the masked thug punched his face a few times before driving away with the Mercedes, which was found the next day. WALLS MUST BEHAVE, all caps, was spray-painted on the burned husk of the car. The police have no idea who did it—there was no surveillance footage or witnesses. The security camera in the garage was apparently out of service.
Next to him, Karie stares straight ahead, her eyes refusing to focus on anything. Mick sits with his lips tight, and Vivienne sobs carefully into her handkerchief so she doesn’t ruin her makeup. When she realizes I’m looking at her, she lifts her head and mouths, It’s not too late. I’m here .
She must’ve smoked something before coming. It is too late, precisely because she’s here. Can’t uninvite her now without making a scene.
Mom looks alert. Uncle Prescott leans over and says something to Aunt Akiko, who nods with her eyes wide. Catalina is smiling—probably feeling triumphant—and Andreas checks his watch.
Still no Dad…
Emma and Rachel are one row behind Catalina, and the former gives me a small wave and smile. She’s probably the most genuinely happy person at the wedding because she has no clue what’s really going on and wants the best for me. Rachel’s with some boy-toy arm candy who barely looks eighteen. Guess she got rid of the last “love of her life,” who managed to stay with her for, like, two months. None of my other brothers’ mothers have come. Grant’s mom hates my mother. Nicholas’s mom can never keep her commitments, so nobody expects her to be anywhere she says she’ll be, except possibly at Dad’s birthday parties. Noah’s mom is a hermit, and Sebastian’s in Paris again.
What the hell? Adam is sitting on the bride’s side—all stoic but vibrating with misery. It’s as though he’s been asked to sit in one of Griff’s econometrics classes without an Excel spreadsheet. Why did anybody think it was a good idea to invite him?
Actually… Grace considers him a friend, and she wants to test her limits. My initial irritation slowly fades. He can enjoy watching me make Grace legally mine…and then go back to his undoubtedly tiny apartment and cry.
Finally, I see Joey—hard to miss that shock of orange. But there’s still no sign of Dad.
Weird . He wouldn’t miss this for the world. I scan the audience again, wondering where he could’ve gone. Suddenly suspicious, I look up at the sky with narrowed eyes. But—nothing. Guess he isn’t going to attempt to parachute into the ceremony. He tried to attend Grant’s wedding from a helicopter, blaring Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries” at full volume.
Grace appears at the end of the aisle, her arm linked with…
Dad’s.
Gasps rise from the guests. Her dress is classic, with a long train and a poofy skirt made with layers and layers of chiffon. Diamantés sparkle on her fitted bodice, which she would not have been able to wear if she were showing. A finger-length veil blows softly in the breeze.
And the entire thing is jet black.
Both my eyebrows rise. Is this a figurative flip of the bird because I made a joke to Madison about the theme of the wedding being “Amazing Grace,” and Grace found out about it?
I certainly didn’t expect her to run with it and make it her own, but the black wedding gown is surprisingly chic. I like the way she wears it with confident audacity. A reluctant admiration begins to swirl in my gut, along with a hint of heat that has to do with more elemental needs.
I missed her while I was away in London. The realization is a little unnerving. She’s just a scheming manipulator. But my libido doesn’t care, and it bothers me that I’m putting physical attraction above character.
If your father hit you, you would want to find a way to escape.
That doesn’t give her immunity. Not after she fucked me over so spectacularly. Still, retribution is far, far from my mind as I gaze at her.
Tears glint from Dad’s eyes, and he dabs at them. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was the actual father of the bride. Meanwhile, Nelson turns red. Or at least his black-and-blue complexion is turning more purplish as he glares at Grace and Dad.
For once, Dad’s penchant for being a self-centered asshole is paying off. I don’t have to hear it from Joey or Grace to know that he asked to walk her down the aisle. He always wants to be the star of any event, and this is the closest to stardom at a wedding he can get without actually getting married himself. This public snub of Nelson is the proverbial cherry on the sundae.
The soprano starts singing “Amazing Grace.” Grace starts her march, her steps leisurely and nonchalant. Atta girl .
My brothers and cousins glance at each other, while Andreas and Catalina squeeze their eyes shut, much to my satisfaction. My sisters-in-law seem frozen in shock. Aunt Akiko is staring at Grace like this is the most wonderful wedding ever. Dad doesn’t seem fazed at all, and Joey is busy recording the moment on his phone.
I smirk. Yep. This is definitely Grace telling me what she thinks about the theme I mentioned to Madison. My bride’s defiance is amusing, and I respect her for having a spine and this much chutzpah.
When Grace and Dad reach me, he hands her to me and says, “Be good to my girl or else.”
I give him a look. “You’re my father, not hers.”
“Not anymore. I walked her down the aisle, and now she’s mine.”
For God’s sake. “Go away, Dad. You’re making the officiant wait.”
“Fine.” He tugs on the lapels of his tux, gives the audience a wave and struts off.
The officiant is a judge who’s a good friend of Grandmother’s. He begins, not showing any reaction to this highly unorthodox wedding.
“This is the best omen for our life together,” I whisper to Grace, my eyes trained straight ahead.
“I did what you wanted. Didn’t Madison tell you?”
“She tells me everything.” Actually, she overshared the details of the wedding, including how much everything cost. I eventually had to tell her I don’t care about the money. Even if Andreas hadn’t offered to pay, I wouldn’t care how much Grace decided to spend. It isn’t that much to give her the wedding of her dreams.
“I’m sure.”
What’s up with the sarcasm? Grace is getting the ceremony she wanted and has made a public statement about her feelings. Shouldn’t she be satisfied?
The officiant is looking at me expectantly. I chafe at the idea of reading a line in someone’s script like a puppet. A perverse urge to say, “I don’t,” is on the tip of my tongue until I glance in Grace’s direction. She’s pale, her hands tight around the bouquet.
She’s nervous. She expects me to do something to turn her into the butt of a joke.
Suddenly the subversive urge dies. I say, “I do,” with the solemnity the occasion requires.
Her grip on the bouquet relaxes. “I do,” Grace says softly when it’s her turn.
We exchange the rings. The specially designed wedding band has three stones—one pearl, one clear diamond and then a third stone, pink for her and blue for me. They represent the new life we’ve created, and she and I, bound as family. The placement of the stones and setting make these rings unique and interesting, more than mere bands.
The officiant rambles a bit more about our wonderfully bright future and then intones, “You may kiss the bride.”
I lift the veil over her head. She looks up at me. Her eyes are unreadable, but they shine beautifully under the gorgeous California sun. Although she made the wedding as funereal as possible, her makeup is perfectly done, highlighting her high cheekbones, wide eyes and soft lips.
“Wife,” I whisper, then claim her mouth.
On cue, the waterworks start, accompanied by a loud wail. “It’s obvious Huxley and Grace aren’t meant to be! They married to a funeral song! She’s in black! She wants Huxley to diiiiie !”
The smile on Grace’s face doesn’t falter. But the moment is shattered.
My arm around Grace, I turn to Vivienne, who’s now crying in earnest, not caring that her makeup is a mess. Karie is looking the other way, refusing to police her out-of-control child. Who the hell invited these parasites again?
“‘Amazing Grace’ is what many couples in Japan use for their wedding, and I always wanted an international wedding, which Grace lovingly agreed to with an open mind.” My voice carries over the guests.
Grace’s startled gaze bores into my cheek. I look at her and nod. Yeah, it’s true .
I continue: “And black wedding gowns are considered ultra-chic in some elite circles in Asia. So stop insulting my wife and this beautiful ceremony with your narrow-minded bigotry. But then, I might be expecting too much from a woman who thinks almond chicken is authentically Chinese.”
Grace chokes back a small laugh. “You’re making it hard for me to hold on to my grudge and hate you,” she whispers.
I want to ask what reason she has to be upset with me, but a loud shriek interrupts me.
“You’re so mean !” Vivienne cries harder. Andreas glares at her like he’d love nothing more than to strangle her, and Mick notices and pokes her in the side. “Why are you hurting me?” she screams.
Dad’s eyes flare. Oh shit. He’s never found a drama he didn’t love—or want to be at the center of. He runs up to us, arms spread, and hugs Grace hard. “Ignore the commotion, honey. It doesn’t concern you. You have me—Daddy Teddy.”
Daddy Teddy? Ugh. No.
He isn’t finished. He puts his hands on Grace’s shoulders. “I predict that you will end up with a baby who can sing like an angel. I always wanted one of those. Ideally a girl. Girls are more fun. Welcome to the family, my love! And you can ignore that crying bitch! Jesus, I’ve seen fourth-rate porn actresses who can turn on the waterworks better than that.”