“It’s all right,” she murmurs reflexively, because everything alwayshasto be all right to keep from angering my father. “Just remember how many people are looking forward to you coming home. I love you, Afton.”
“Love you too, Mom.” I force a smile and nod a little to really sell it. “I can hardly wait to see everyone.”
Wyatt’s sympathetic gaze meets mine in the rearview mirror. “If you pack tonight, we can leave right after your microbiology class tomorrow. Your father is sending his jet for you.”
“Yeah. That’ll be great.”
At least I don’t have to pretend to smile for Wyatt.
***
The next day…
The flight is smooth and there’s a car waiting for us at the private airfield my family uses, so it takes me a moment to realize something’s off.
“Wait, where are we going?” I look up from my textbook. Wyatt’s turned further into downtown Seattle, rather than taking the coastal road toward my parent’s mansion.
“We’re making a couple of stops first,” he says over his shoulder.
“Oh? Mom didn’t mention anything to me.” The enormous towers of St. James Cathedral are looming in front of us. It’s a gorgeous old church; I went inside once on a historical architecture tour. There are dozens of high stone arches, covered in gold gilt and an awe-inspiring array of stained-glass windows throughout the church.
Wyatt turns into the parking lot and loops around to the back entrance, pulling up to the curb where Mom and Lucia are waiting.
“I’ve missed you, sweetheart! So glad you’re home.” Mom gives me a fierce little hug. It feels off, but Lucia distracts me with a giant, wet kiss on my cheek.
“I live like three hours away,” I mumble, wiping off my cheek. “So why are we here? If it’s for a christening or something, I’m a little underdressed.”
“Afton, get your ass up here and see all the cool shit before Mom bursts a blood vessel.” My brother Sam is standing at the top of the granite stairs, looking rather dapper in a… tux?
“My dude, why are you in a tuxedo?” He meets me halfway up the steps with a careless hug. He’s tall and solid, a comforting presence. We look alike, enough so that we’re often mistaken for twins, but he’s twenty-five.
“Oh, we have a long fucking day ahead of us, sister dear.” His smile is grim, I can see that now, and he’s pulling me through the big oak doors, down a hallway and not being subtle about it as Mom and Lucia trail behind.
We stop at a room that screams femininity, from the pink silk upholstered couch to the old-school dressing table with a huge mirror and an ivory ruffled skirting. It’s covered with a panoply of brushes, a curling iron, bottles of makeup and false eyelashes. There’s a door leading to a bathroom with flowered towels and fancy soaps and a dress bag hanging from a hook.
“For what it’s worth, I didn’t know until this morning, none of us did. I would have tried to stop him,” Sam whispers in my ear, pulling me in close for another hug before squeezing my shoulder and heading back down the hall.
Wyatt is standing there by the back door. When he sees me look at him, he drops his head, like he’s ashamed.
“You’re late.” My father’s greeting is his usual, accompanied by a disgruntled look at his watch, as if to underscore my inexcusable use of time. He’s wearing a tuxedo, too. He steps behind me, herding me into the room.
“I didn’t know I was on a schedule,” I say stiffly.
My Nana Cavendish comes in for a hug, her blue eyes gleaming. “There’s my girl.” She’s dressed up too, something dark green and designer, wreathed in a cloud of Chanel No. 5.
“Hey, Nana.” I hug her, whispering into her ear. “What is goingonhere?”
My father answers, cutting across the little current of conversation in the room. “You’re getting married. Today.”
Chapter Two
In which Afton’s dad REALLY sucks.
Afton…
My father’s words break apart my reality and jam it back together in some incomprehensible way.
“You can’t be serious.”
