I’ve never actually liked weddings. I think they’re expensive and overdone. Wasteful. I’m also pretty skeptical when it comes to marriage. My own parents are still together, and my Granny had a good, happy marriage, but I just don’t know if I really believe it’s possible for most people now. When they make a person promise forever, I do think it’s a little bit ridiculous, because no one knows what’s coming down the road. I’ve seen my friends, colleagues, and other acquaintances go through such heartbreaks with their supposedly significant others. So how can you make a promise now for the next fifty or sixty or even seventy years without knowing how you or your partner is going to change, or if it’s even possible to change together?
All of a sudden, Philippe basically tugs me down, and I realize no one else is standing. I flush hotly at getting lost in my own head, but when Philippe casually wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into him protectively, my head spins. Things get foggy and shivery, and parts of me start doing a happy dance.
This is fake. This is fake. This is fake. This is fake. I chant to myself.
But my chanting does nothing to calm my racing heart rate or my hardened nipples or the furious throbbing emptiness at the center of me.
It’s impossible to concentrate while Philippe’s masculine scent tickles my nose, and also when he makes me feel like I’m wrapped up in strength.
Before I even know it, the vows are over, the bride and groom kiss, and then the whole wedding party rushes down the aisle, dancing and bopping away to some peppy, non-traditional wedding song. Half the room empties out after them, probably to do the congratulating, hugging line thing.
I stand alongside Philippe, immediately missing his warmth when he drops his arm. I’m already nervous about having to hug people I don’t know and pretend like I’m legitimately glad to be here, and then I spot Philippe’s mom rushing our way.
I tense. It wasn’t showtime before. Now, this is showtime. I brace for awkwardness, but his mom circumvents all that, parts the crowd, rushes down the row of seats, and immediately throws her lavender-scented arms around me and pulls me in for the tightest bear hug I’ve ever had in my life.
CHAPTER 9
Philippe
I nearly groan when I see Sutton’s horrified face as she pulls away from just being squished against my mom’s bosom. She stumbles back, but my mom is all smiles and joy.
“I’m so glad you could make it! It’s so good to finally meet you!”
I was banking on the fact that my mom wouldn’t remember she’s met Sutton once when Sutton first became my assistant. It was just a brief moment in passing when Mom came to drop something off for me at work. I remember her seeing Sutton along the way, but I was sure she wouldn’t remember because it’s been a long time. When Mom comes to work now, I have the receptionist intercept her and call me. It might not be overly nice of me, but I’m afraid people in the workplace won’t like big hugs and cheek pinches and gushing monologues.
“Uh, yes…” Sutton stammers. “Me too. Very glad.”
“Mom.” I smile softly at her. “You’re going to scare her off. This is new. Remember?”
“Oh, but it’s just so great that you agreed to come! And I love your dress! Feathers! They’re beautiful. You have an excellent style! We should go shopping together sometime, you and me. Maybe you could help me with my own wardrobe.”
Sutton gives me a panicked look. She and I both realize, at the same time, that this ploy is probably too successful. I thought my mom would be satisfied with knowing I have a girlfriend and that I’m at least making an attempt to have a personal life. I thought I could make excuses a few weeks after and then tell her we broke up.
I didn’t actually think me doing that would make my mom even more disappointed than me coming here alone today would have.
Eff. Me. Sideways.
Sutton recovers before I do. “I’m afraid I can’t take credit for it. If you want someone to go shopping with, you’ll have to ask your son. He’s the one who picked it out. It was a surprise, actually. He’s the one with the good taste. If it were up to me, I would have shown up here in a cotton maxi dress and an oversized sweater.”
My mom shoots me a surprised look, but she’s still all happy smiles and bubbliness. My sister just got freaking married. Of course, she’s over the moon at the moment. “Oh! Well, nothing wrong with a good oversized sweater! You’d be beautiful in just about anything, dear.”
“Mom,” I groan.
Sutton giggles nervously. “Thank you. Really. You’re too kind. I always thought I was quite plain.”
“Plain?” Mom scoffs. “Nothing wrong with that either. You have no idea how beautiful understated beauty is, especially right now. If you can leave the house without a cake face on, I applaud your aptitude for independent thought.”
“Mom! Please!”
Sutton is smiling though, and not a fake one either. I can tell it’s genuine because I can see it reflected in her eyes. She’s actually amused. Genuinely. “I’ll remember that. I always hated makeup. I actually have really sensitive skin, and it always made me so itchy. I didn’t think it was ever worth it.”
“We should go get in the line. I want to congratulate my sister,” I put in, hoping to end the conversation before my mom chases away my fake girlfriend.
“You had better congratulate well.” Mom gives me that disappointed mom look she’s perfected over the years. “She was still upset that you wouldn’t walk her down the aisle.”
