My jaw drops, then I close it and start grinding my teeth. Ever since the OB-GYN appointment, everything from Madison just grates. If it hadn’t been for Dr. Blum sending me a positive update on Mom’s condition, I might scream and throw the phone out the window in frustration.
According to his email, Mom’s fingers twitched when she heard the baby’s heartbeat. I wish I could’ve been there to hold her hand and tell her myself that it’s her grandchild. He told me the nurse assistant assigned to my mother is fantastic, playing my voice recording for my mom every day and reading her books and the news so she won’t feel alone in silence.
I forcibly turn my attention back to the greatest current annoyance of my life.
–Me: If I wanted to be surrounded by the symbol of the Japanese imperial household, I would’ve married the Emperor of Japan! I’m marrying an American who has no ties to Japan!
–Madison: His aunt is Japanese.
–Me: And you know what? My great-great-great-great-grandfather was the King of England! So I think I should be able to have roses, don’t you?
–Madison: You’re being unreasonable. Huxley is paying for everything.
–Me: No. Andreas Webber is paying. He is my grandfather, in case you didn’t know.
Thank you, Andreas, for stopping by this morning to tell me you’d pay.
–Madison: I’ll see what I can do.
My knuckles are white, and my hands shake. Every time she says that, she discards my wishes and does whatever she claims Huxley wants. And if I text him again, he’s going to tell me to get “another facial,” like that’ll make me happy. If I get too many wrinkles for my age, it’ll be because I scowl every time I have to speak to Madison!
–Madison: By the way, you sure you don’t need assistance with the gown?
Why? So you can put me in a nun’s outfit or something else that I’m going to find objectionable?She says everything she’s conveying is what Huxley wants. And when I text him, he says something along the lines of “Let Madison handle it—that’s her job.”
This must be his revenge for being forced to marry me. But has he ever asked himself who picked me as his fake fiancée in the first place? How was I supposed to know I was one ofthe Webber marriage candidates? He never told me the details. I never had any reason to disclose that Nelson Webber was my father, or that because he’s such a world-class dickhead I never changed my name to reflect his parentage.
–Me: No. Grooms never get a say on the wedding gown.
–Madison: I see. BTW, Huxley wants to know how your face is doing.
Every time I think Madison is being difficult just for the sake of being difficult and blaming Huxley for everything, she asks me something like this. It throws me off because I can sort of imagine him wondering, not because he’s worried about how I’ll look on the big day, but because he genuinely cares.
But if he’s concerned, he could just text me himself. Like when he told me to treat myself to a facial. But no—he keeps going through Madison, who constantly rubs me the wrong way. She and I didn’t get off on the right foot, and I’m convinced at this point that we’ll never see eye to eye on anything.
Since I’m feeling irritated at the insistence on having white chrysanthemums at the venue rather than the pink roses I prefer, I send a curt response.
–Me: It’ll be fine by the wedding.
The swelling is gone, and there aren’t any marks on my skin. Huxley’s whitish goo worked its miracle.
–Me: I gotta go to a meeting, so can’t talk more today.
That’s a lie, but I can’t handle more of her right now.
–Madison: But we only have a couple of weeks left. Not even.
–Me: Maybe Huxley shouldn’t have picked the date he did, then. It isn’t my problem if you have to work overtime. In case you forgot, I’m pregnant with his baby, and I need my rest.
I then put my phone face down on the desk. I’ve used up all my patience for the day.
“Hey, there you are!”
Peter.
My face scrunches.Is the universe kidding me?I stare at my laptop and start typing. If I concentrate on writing the projection Elizabeth needs today, he might walk right past me without noticing. For all I know, he’s just discovered charitable donations are tax deductible and wants to minimize liability.
But today isn’t my lucky day. Peter stops in front of my desk. I continue to type, but he doesn’t get the hint.
