Chapter 23 Drew
DREW
If a shitty real life made for incredible reality TV, then Dorian was about to break records. What was going on during the wedding rehearsal had me ready to give up. On this wedding. On the resort. On life itself.
Chaos. That was the only way to describe the scene unfolding in the staging area.
Kristen had explained that Carter’s mom and stepmom didn’t get along.
It wasn’t surprising, given that his dad had started the affair with wife number two while still married to wife number one.
Then wife number one proceeded to take him absolutely to the cleaners in the divorce settlement, meaning wife number two never got the lifestyle to which she’d planned to become accustomed.
I’d hoped the discomfort would be limited to fake smiles and silence.
But no, the sniping between them was next level, with Dorian capturing every second of it with that same maniacal expression on his face.
Then there were the groomsmen, who had spent the day at a distillery while the ladies were at the spa.
The guys had clearly drained barrels of whiskey and were now practicing wrestling moves in front of the cameras with Carter looking on like he was loving every second of it.
Our tightly mapped out schedule didn’t seem to matter to anyone else. I tried to lock eyes with Emilia, to telegraph that we needed to harness the madness, but she was too busy being a human shield between the two escalating moms.
My phone rang and when I looked at the screen I saw that it was my father. It was the absolute worst time to pick up, but after his health scare, there was no way I’d decline one of his calls. I stepped into the blissfully quiet anteroom, just outside the circus.
“Hey, what’s up?” I answered.
“Well, hello to you too,” he joked. “How’s it going, son?”
I closed my eyes and sighed wearily. “Been better. You okay?”
“I’m fantastic!” I could hear the smile in his voice, which chipped a little of my tension away. I liked hearing him in a good mood. At least one of us was enjoying life. “I have news.”
My stomach clenched and I wished I hadn’t left my bottle of Tums in my office. News, even happy news, meant change. Right now, all I craved was consistency.
“Tell me.”
I heard a crash from inside the staging area and had to hold myself back from storming in to investigate. Emilia would handle it until I could go back.
I walked to the window to put some distance between me and the chaos.
“Well, after a great deal of thought I’ve decided that it’s time for me to downsize. I’m selling the house.”
The words didn’t compute for a few seconds.
“Which one? Palm Island?”
“Well, no, not that one… but now that you mention it, maybe the Florida house should go as well?”
My heart thumped in my chest. What was with his sudden fire sale mentality?
“Wait a minute, are you talking about our house? Halcyon Drive?”
It couldn’t be. The home where my brothers and I had learned to ride bikes in the driveway.
Where my mother’s roses perfumed the air.
The de facto site of every holiday and celebration for nearly three decades of my life.
It was the heart of our family, and more importantly, it was my mother’s loving vision of home brought to life.
Her fingerprints were everywhere in the place, and I couldn’t imagine anyone but Ashfords there.
“Yes, that’s the one,” my dad replied. “I think it’s time.”
I started pacing. I had to talk him off the ledge, but gently. My instinct was to go straight to yelling about how odd he was acting and how much of a mistake he’d realize this all was once he came to his senses.
“Dad, we need to talk about this but I’m sort of in the middle of a crisis. For now please tell me why. What could possibly be driving this decision?”
“Well, a few things. The writing’s been on the wall for ages now, and when Candace and I started talking about life stages we—”
“Hold on, that freaking Candace woman is pushing you to do this? She’s the reason?”
“No, absolutely not,” he insisted. “This is my decision. But she’s an excellent sounding board. She downsized as well not too long ago, so she has valuable insights.”
I stared out the window, not really seeing anything. I didn’t have the bandwidth to take in what he was telling me. All I knew was that my brothers and I needed to come together to convince him that he was throwing his life away. First retirement and now this?
“Dad,” I sighed. “We need to discuss this as a family. I can’t get into it now, okay?”
“You’re right, you’re right,” he said quickly. “Sorry I interrupted your day. I was just feeling good about finally making the decision and I wanted to share it with you.”
“I appreciate that you’re keeping me in the loop, but like I said, we need to really talk this out, and now’s not the time. Please don’t do anything rash, okay?”
“Never,” he replied. “Go take care of whatever fire you’re dealing with. Good luck, son.”
“Thanks. I need it.”
Fuck.
I braced myself before walking back into the drama, because the noise was spilling down the hallway. When I walked into the room Emilia was standing between the pastel-clad mothers of the groom like a referee at a boxing match, her arms outstretched to keep them from colliding.
It was such an insane moment that I was convinced that Dorian had somehow set it up, but instead of him hovering in the shadows goading them on, there was a single camera operator standing a few feet away.
Yes, the dramatic footage was getting captured, but the drama was muted without the number one shit stirrer egging them on.
Emilia was so locked into the showdown that she didn’t see me walking over.
“Hey, hey, excuse me, ladies,” I shouted above the noise. “What’s going on?”
Emilia widened her eyes at me so that only I could see. “Jeanie thinks that Linda moved some of the seating cards so that she would be closer to the bride and groom at the rehearsal dinner.”
“I did not move them,” Linda lunged at her enemy on the other side of Emilia. “How dare you say I’d do that?”
A tiny part of me wanted to see what would happen if Emilia let them go at it, which was the exact impulse that made reality TV so successful. I glanced at the camera then back at the pending fight.
“Okay, the way we figure this out is to take a look at Emilia’s master layout schematic and compare it to the way the place cards are laid out. Then we’ll know if they were moved.”
“Which I was trying to do before these two started pulling hair,” Emilia insisted.
Damn, I’d missed it.
“Fine,” Linda backed up a few steps. “Go get it so I can prove I didn’t touch a thing.”
“Good, okay then. Everyone take a deep breath.” I looked at the two women and waited for each of them to nod at me. They both crossed their arms and stared at each other like they were just waiting for one wrong move.
“Where’s Carter?” I asked Emilia as we walked away. “He should be navigating this since they’re his moms.”
Plus, he always seemed to find a way to the center of the action. I was shocked his Spidey-sense hadn’t clued him in that there was an opportunity to literally flex his muscles for the camera.
Wait, why the hell was I thinking like a producer now?
“The last time I saw him was a while ago. It would be a huge help if you could find him because he has responsibilities,” Emilia hissed the word. “I’m losing it! These people are unhinged.”
She pointed to where the bridesmaids were slipping flowers out of the expensive and perfect arrangements so they could take pictures with them in their hair.
We were so close to the finish line yet it felt like we still had miles to go. There was still plenty that could blow up in our faces.
I searched the adjoining rooms, and out on the balcony, and finally spotted Dorian and Carter huddled together out on the lawn. I studied them, because I could tell just from Carter’s posture and the way Dorian was gesturing wildly that they were going to be the source of my next headache.
Carter did not look happy.
One of my servers pulled me aside to let me know that they were getting close to running out of the Veuve champagne, which felt impossible since they’d ordered a half dozen cases for the pre-rehearsal hang out and dinner.
Fantastic. A room full of hair-trigger drunks, with cameras recording every second. This was going to be a rough night.
Somehow, miraculously, we made it through the rehearsal itself despite some stumbling down the aisle. We moved on to the dinner, which was set up on the patio in the twilight. The setting was perfection, but the vibe felt off.
I stood in the shadows, watching to make sure everything continued to go as smoothly as possible given the drink consumption. I normally wasn’t so involved in the minutiae of an event, but obviously this one was different.
It had to go well. The Ashford reputation was once again at risk of getting taken down by a fandom and if that were to happen, I wasn’t sure I had the energy to rebuild it or start over. The drama—both manufactured and real—associated with reality TV was exhausting and I was at my wit’s end.
I allowed myself to relax just a hair when I saw that the servers had started passing out the baskets of artisanal bread. With luck, it would soak up some of the alcohol and things would calm down a bit.
But no sooner did I let my shoulders drop than Carter rose to his feet—accidentally knocking his chair backwards. The clatter silenced the crowd.
Oh god, I thought, dread climbing up my throat. I don’t know what this is, but I know it’s going to be bad.
“Hey folks, that was me,” he laughed. “Sorry!”
Kristen was beside him looking every bit the bride-to-be in a gauzy white sundress. But her face? I could see the strain from across the patio.
“Does everyone have drinks? Everyone? Drinkie drinks?” Carter asked, scanning the crowd. “Okay, good! Cause I wanna do a toast to my sexy-ass bride.”
Kristen gave him a tight-lipped grin that looked more worried than loving.
“Let’s do this,” Carter began. “So are you having a good time out there?”
Everyone clapped but his group of bros went nuclear, hooting and bouncing out of their chairs.
“Those are my boys!” Carter laughed. He took a sip from the drink in his hand, clearly forgetting what he was up there to do. “Anyway, so what was I saying?”
He glanced down at Kristen.
“Oh, yeah! I wanna talk about this gorgeous woman.”
More cheers as he clumsily slapped her bare shoulder.
“She’s hot as fuck, right?”
I caught scandalized gasps that were quickly drowned out by bro-cheering. Kristen tried to hold on to her smile, but it wasn’t really working. Dorian was hovering behind a camera operator wearing a maniacal grin.
“And she knows how to make me really happy.”
A wave of ‘awws’ bounced around the room.
“Because my girl’s got skills!” Carter crowed. “
I cringed, watching the older folks glance around at the other guests wearing confused expressions while the guys cheered and the bridesmaids looked scandalized.
This was bad. As in, the event could be headed for total breakdown if someone didn’t stop Carter. Kristen was looking up at him like she couldn’t believe this was the man she’d be marrying in less than twenty-four hours.
Like she might be reconsidering.
I had to act.
Our AV guy was standing behind the sound board, pretending like he was more focused on the buttons and knobs in front of him than the trainwreck doing a toast.
“Raj,” I said in a low voice. “Please tell me you have a microphone.”
He reached down and held one out to me without saying a word, his expression telegraphing just how dismal things were.
“You’re a lifesaver,” I muttered.
I fumbled for the toggle switch I knew would be there. “Push, then slide,” Raj said and I managed to turn it on before striding to where Carter was weaving in place.
“Ladies and gentlemen, let’s have a big round of applause for our groom!” I said it like he’d just recited a soliloquy to Kristen.
My voice sliced through the murmuring noises of the crowd. Everyone seemed relieved that Carter was no longer talking.
“We’re about to begin dinner service,” I continued in a buttery voice. “You’re in for a spectacular meal, specially selected by our wonderful couple. I hope you enjoy.”
I grabbed onto Carter’s shoulder like I was giving him a congratulatory back slap but instead tightened my grip and forced him to walk beside me. It probably looked like we were about to discuss plans for the evening when in fact I was going to quarantine the fucker and talk some sense into him.
“Yo, wazzur problem, man?” Carter demanded as we walked away, trying to twist out of my grip.
I held him even tighter and led him through the glass doors inside.
I heard someone following us. I turned expecting to see Kristen following us, but it was a damn cameraman. He tried to follow, but I shoved the door shut before he could step inside.
Fuck.
I was in a nightmare.