8. Vivienne
Vivienne
“Mum, I don’t even like orchids.” I let out an exasperated sigh and toss my napkin onto the table.
We came to Le Petit Jardin for lunch, but from the way she’s hardly touched her salade nicoise and can’t stop talking about the wedding, this is starting to feel more like a strategic attack.
She’s been pestering me about flowers for the past forty-five minutes, her binder spread out in front of her.
She gives me that sharp look that used to send me scurrying from the room when I was younger. Her hair is styled in a soft chignon, but neither that nor her mint-green day dress do anything to soften her expression. “If you think a wedding is about what you like, Vivienne, you’re mistaken.”
My laugh is abrupt and harsh. “Excuse me? Not about what I like?” I lean forward, clasping my hands together.
“I thought the whole point of a wedding was to showcase the bride’s and groom’s personalities on the most important day of their lives.
Otherwise, why not get married at the courthouse?
” The idea is sounding more and more appealing.
A vein in my mother’s forehead throbs, but she retains her composure. “Of course that’s some of it, but it’s also about how you present yourself to the world. This will affect the way you and Landon are perceived in society from now on.”
“And you’re telling me that if I include orchids in my bouquet, society will look favorably upon me for the rest of my life?”
She looks me in the eye for the first time since we sat down. “Well, it certainly won’t hurt.”
“I’m willing to take my chances.”
“Vivienne, listen to me.” Her tone changes into the one she usually reserves for Bash, her favorite child.
Reaching across the table, she rests her hand atop mine.
“A wedding is forever immortalized in print, photographs, and memories. It’s about so much more than what you want at this moment.
It’s about the kind of legacy you want to leave. ”
“I don’t want orchids in my legacy, Mum,” I say, pulling my hand away. “And I don’t want them at my wedding.”
She closes her eyes briefly, as if she can’t understand why she’s been stuck with a daughter like me. When she reopens them, her composure is as steady as always. “Orchids represent grace and elegance. If you don’t use them, people will notice.”
“Let them. I don’t care.” I push my plate away, half of my meal still on it. My appetite vanished the second she brought out that binder. “You said you’d let me plan the wedding.”
“That was until I realized you were planning to use foxgloves.”
I groan. “It’s just a wedding, Mother.”
“Precisely.” She drops her gaze back to the bloody book of florals, most of which are some variation of white, ivory, or cream. “Maybe we should call Landon and ask him what he thinks.”
I swallow thickly, then reach for my water. “I’m sure he’s busy.”
“Not too busy for his fiancée, surely,” she says without lifting her eyes.
“Regardless, I’m not calling him.”
She turns the page with a quick flick of her wrist, making her diamond bracelet glint in the sunlight coming through the window next to us. “Why not? You’re being unreasonable, and I think he could help you see that.”
My nails bite into the skin of my palm. “I assure you, Landon doesn’t care what flowers we have at the wedding.” In reality, I have no idea what he wants. It’s not something the two of us have ever discussed. He probably doesn’t even know what an orchid is.
“You’d be surprised. I happen to know his mother raised him properly,” Mum says.
I cock a brow. “By teaching him that orchids are nonnegotiable wedding flowers? Does Bash know that, too?”
Mum presses her lips together and lifts her wine glass. God. She actually believes this garbage.
“I don’t think Bash ever even plans to get married, Mother.”
A flicker of tension moves along her jaw. “We are not discussing your brother right now.”
“No, of course we’re not.” We never discuss the child on the pedestal, the one who can do no wrong, no matter how hard he tries. I take a drink of water, letting the cool liquid soothe the heat rising inside me. I need to get out of here, but until she’s done with me, that’s not an option.
“I’ll text the wedding planner to let her know we’re leaning toward orchids, but we’re not entirely sure yet, okay?” she says.
I gape at her, wondering if I heard her right. “You’re just planning to steamroll me into doing this your way, aren’t you?”
“Of course not. But in ten years, you’ll thank me.”
“I highly doubt that.”
She closes the binder with a smack and sets it aside.
“Vivienne, listen to me. I’ve been down this road before.
I know planning a wedding is stressful. You shouldn’t be thinking about the details.
You should be getting pampered and enjoying your last moments as a single woman. Let me handle these things.”
“From where I’m sitting, you’ve handled almost everything so far, in spite of telling me you’d let me do it,” I say.
“And now it’s obvious you don’t realize what you’re getting yourself into.”
“Plenty of women plan their own weddings, Mum. This is the twenty-first century.”
She scoffs and sips her wine. “Most of those women aren’t spending half a million dollars on their weddings.”
“Four hundred ninety-eight thousand, to be precise. Since I’m doing my own calligraphy.” I flash her a Cheshire cat grin.
Her face tightens even further, which I didn’t know was possible. “I still think you should let me hire Emily Gershin.”
“We already settled this. I want to do the place cards myself.”
“Then let me handle the rest of the details so you have time.” Desperation clings to my mum’s words like ivy on a brick wall.
“Since I’m not competing this fall, I’ll have plenty of time,” I say, folding my napkin into a square.
When Landon and I got engaged, I gave up show jumping, something even my father was in favor of. Shocking, since by his measure, up until this spring, bringing home another win was the only thing I was good for. Apparently, bringing home an aristocratic husband is worth a hundred trophies.
Mum runs a finger against the side of her glass, catching the drops of condensation with her manicured nail. “Well, maybe I should speak to your father about that. Doing a few shows might be good for you.”
My hand freezes. “You wouldn’t.” This is the first year since I was five that I haven’t spent every spare minute on the back of a horse. I love riding, but competing is a different story.
“Vivienne, I’m just looking out for you. This should be a time of relaxation, not stress.”
“Which is exactly why I don’t want to do any shows,” I say.
“And if you’d let me help you with the wedding, you’d have even more time to enjoy yourself.”
“Fine.” I rest my arms on the table in defeat. She isn’t going to let this go, and the sooner I give in, the sooner I can leave. “Let’s do orchids.”
She sits back in her chair as though she wasn’t expecting this outcome all along. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, Mother. I’m sure.”
“Wonderful,” she says, pulling out her phone. “I’ll just let the wedding planner know.”
I press my fingertips to my eyelids. “Will you let me handle the other things, then?”
“Of course I will.” She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “We’ll do it together.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head, but she’s already dialing. “Mum.”
When she looks up with a victorious smile on her face, I realize I can’t do this anymore.
I stand up and grab my purse. “I’m going to Belgrave Park.” I don’t know why I never considered it before, but now that the idea has taken root, I can’t believe it didn’t occur to me sooner. Freedom from my mum and spending the autumn in the country? It’s a no-brainer.
My mother’s face looks as shocked as it can with all the filler it’s been injected with.
“I trust you’ll let the wedding planner know I’m out of town for the foreseeable future.” I leave her sitting at the table without a backward glance.
I’m halfway home when my phone rings. Confident it’s my mother, I debate not answering, but when I see Maeve’s name on the screen, I take the call.
“Mum said you’re heading to the country,” she says in lieu of greeting.
“God, she doesn’t waste time.” She must’ve called my sister as soon as she hung up with the wedding planner.
“Are you aware you’re getting married in a few months?” Maeve asks.
“Somehow that must’ve slipped my mind.”
There’s a long pause. “How long are you staying?” she finally says.
“Until the wedding.” It’s not like Maeve to do our mother’s bidding. “What’s she giving you in exchange for calling me?”
“No family dinners for an entire month.” Her response comes so quickly, I laugh out loud.
“Nicely done.”
“But only if you agree to stay in the city,” she adds.
I groan. “I can’t, Maeve. She’s driving me crazy.”
Simon, my driver, pulls up outside the lobby of the building where Marlowe, Sutton, and I have been renting a flat since right after graduating university. I give him a smile in the rearview mirror and mouth thank you before sliding out of the car.
“It’s only for a couple more months, then you and Landon can spend all the time you want at Belgrave,” Maeve says as I walk through the revolving door.
“Landon hates the country.” This much I do know.
“What about your dress fittings? Mum said they’re next week.”
I wave to the doorman and head to the lift. “I’ll reschedule,” I tell Maeve. I’ve already spent four hours at the atelier this week. “I can come back to the city any time I want, but I need to get out of here. I’ll suffocate if I stay one more day.”
“I know it’s hard to believe, but she’s only trying to help.”
I frown, pushing the button for the thirty-second floor. “You’re defending Mum? What have you done with my sister?”
“Yeah, you’re right. She’s not trying to help; she’s trying to control the whole thing, but only because in a few months, you’ll be out of her control for good.”
“And I can’t wait.” As the elevator begins to rise, I start making a mental packing list.
“I’m afraid she’s going to spiral if you leave,” Maeve says.
I sigh. “Then it’s a good thing she sees her therapist once a week. She’ll be fine.”
“If you stay, I promise to be a buffer for you.”
I’m tempted for a brief moment. If I stay in the city, I don’t have to leave my friends.
Who knows how much time we’ll get to spend together after the wedding?
But Marlowe has photo shoots, Sutton has training and matches, Shep has his renovation projects, Bash spends most of the day in bed, and Cassian— Well, Cass is exactly why spending the next two months at Belgrave Park is a good idea.
“You’re a terrible buffer,” I say.
“I’ll be the best you’ve ever seen.”
I snort. “You’d duck the second she came at me.”
“You’re right,” Maeve says. “Pierce will be the best buffer you’ve ever seen.”
“Don’t offer up your husband.” I laugh, even though I know Pierce would give his life for my sister without a second thought.
“Then please don’t make me endure family dinners this month,” she pleads.
Shaking my head, I exit the elevator. “Hey, here’s a thought. Just tell her you’re not coming.”
She lets out a huff. “You know it’s not that easy.”
“Maeve, I love you, but I’m leaving. Tell Mum I’m sorry, but I promise to still get everything done in time.” Inserting my key in the door, I shrug. “Besides, it’ll be easier, since the wedding is going to be there anyway.”
“She’s not going to buy that for a second,” Maeve says.
“That’s why I’m trusting you to sell her on it.”
“Viv—”
“Gotta go. Love you!” I end the call.
As I walk into the flat, a lightness spreads through my bones. I’m finally going to be on my own, finally doing something I want. My life may be taking a different path than I thought it would, but at least the next two months are all mine.