“On behalf of the Foster family, I just want to thank you all for coming to my daughter’s wedding.” My mum’s words are suddenly a lot more coherent. “I had expected this one to be the first to get married.” She stretches her arm out at me. “But if I’ve learned anything over the years, it’s not to expect anything from men.”
Oh Lord, here we go.
My mother’s favorite pastime is shamelessly taking digs at people, including the people she gave birth to.
I grab my drink and take a long gulp, trying to swallow down my anger and avoid everyone else’s gaze.
“But you, Daniel, you’ve come along and made my Kelly so happy. And I’m so excited to have you be a part of the family. To be the son I’ve never had.”
I feel the eyes in the room burning a hole straight through me, but I can’t bring myself to look up. To take my hands or eyes off my glass. I’ve learned to accept that my mum sees me as a disappointment. So much so that her words barely register with me anymore. It’s the pity and sympathy from others that I can’t stand.
“I can’t wait to welcome you into the family and for you both to make me a grandmother. To the happy couple, Kelly and Daniel.”
I automatically raise my glass as the rest of the restaurant does the same.
But wait. A grandmother?
How the hell does she know? I thought Kelly said it was a secret?
I lift my head to find Kelly throwing daggers at me with her glare. I shake my head vigorously. I definitely haven’t told Mum. Maybe she guessed. Or maybe she’s just speaking figuratively.
“Don’t just leave me standing here!” My mum waves her glass at me, ready to clink them together, even as she stares still down at me disapprovingly. Like she hasn’t just thrown me under the bus. You know, like all loving mothers do.
I get up from my seat, glass raised, but my mum, in her eagerness to drink, combined with her heavy-handedness, smashes her glass into mine. They both shatter and the liquid sloshes over me.
“Great,” I say, shaking my arms and reaching for a napkin to dry myself. Her red wine is barely noticeable on my dark navy shirt, but it’s also splattered all across my beige trousers and brown boots.
“Can you clean this mess up?” My mum snaps her fingers at one of the waiters.
I stare at the shards of glass and red wine and vodka soda sloshed across the floor. I’ve promised Kelly not to cause another scene, but I’ve done my duty. If I don’t get out of here right now, the fury inside me is going to cause some lasting damage.
I turn to walk away, but my mum reaches out to stop me.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“To change,” I say, turning around and holding my hands out, so she can fully take in the mess she created.
“I didn’t think we’d get you out tonight,” Stephen says, passing me a vodka soda.
“Neither did I,” I say, gently tapping my glass against Stephen’s and his housemate Ciaran’s, who seems to be on something. Sweat is dripping profusely from his face, and his fingers constantly rub at his nostrils.
I had no plans to go out after I got back to the room andshowered. But when I headed back to the notepad to try and finish the speech for tomorrow, I found myself too angry to write anything. I just needed to get out of the hotel.
“Spotted any hotties tonight?” I take a sip of my drink through the straw and take in his shirt.
Looking for a Sugar Daddyis printed in block letters across the top. Underneath that is a check list with all his demands.
His short shorts have already attracted attention from a number of the older guys who line the walls of the dance floor.
“Jeez, he’s been like the Tasmanian devil,” Ciaran remarks. “He’s been working his way through the crowd, trying to find a sugar daddy.”
“I have not,” Stephen says, whacking Ciaran’s arm. His mouth locates his straw and he sips through it, acting innocent.
“Seems like your problem is you keep finding sugar-free daddies,” I say. My gaze drifts around the bar, noting the lack of potential. “Maybe it’s time you try looking for a diabetes daddy instead.” Ciaran snorts, and some of his drink flies out of his nostrils.
“That’s what I said, we need to go to some hospices in Mayfair, find ourselves a daddy on death’s door.” Ciaran wipes away the drink from under his nose and licks his hand.
The opening bars of Nicki Minaj’sStarshipsstarts to come out of the speakers, and I instantly know I’ve lost Stephen for the next three and a half minutes. He clears space for himself as he moves through the crowds and struts toward the huge disco ball hanging over the DJ, so he can showcase his moves.
