“I prefer roses.” She offers me a tight smile that is completely insincere, and I just know it’s going to set the tone for the day.
“Oh, I adore roses too.” I smile prettily like she hasn’t just offended me. “I’ll remember that for next time.” I let my smile grow bigger, enjoying the way her eyes narrow suspiciously on me.
Ha!As if there will be another time. The only way this bitch will ever get flowers from me again is if I’m putting them on her grave.
“This is for you too.” I pass the cake carrier to her, keeping the smile supplanted on my face. “I got up early this morning to bake a Black Forest gâteau.”
A visible shudder works its way through her. “Well, with all those calories, I certainly won’t be eating it.”
“Black Forest cake is my favorite,” Winston says, stepping forward to meet us while Pepper and her family huddle next to the floor-to-ceiling window, talking in hushed tones while they drink champagne and pretend this entire situation is not all kinds of awkward.
“Did you know I’m of German descent?” he asks, taking the carrier from Ivy’s hands, prying the lid off and licking his lips as he stares at my creation.
“Of course,” I lie, knowing this will wind Ivy up. “I chose this particular cake after Garrick mentioned it.” It’s pure coincidence, but he doesn’t need to know that. The only things Garrick has mentioned to me about the man his mother hopes will be hubby number four are unflattering in the extreme.
“A woman after my own heart.” Winston guffaws before waggling his bushy brows and looking at me with uncomfortable appreciation. Ivy barely hides her glare, and I feel a smug sense of satisfaction. Perhaps I shouldn’t have encouraged her beau, but fuck that bitch. She’s already been super rude, and I know she’ll be even ruder to me before the day is out.
Ivy doesn’t disguise her disgust when Winston swipes a digit through the top of the cake, groaning as he licks cherry, chocolate, and cream from his meaty finger. I bite on the inside of my cheek and keep a fake smile plastered on my face as I internally scream. That fucking selfish twat has ruined the cake I spent hours making. I even made the morello cherry jam myself earlier in the week, and now that fat prick has put his grubby finger in it as if he’s five years old and he can’t contain himself.
“This tastes incredible. I look forward to eating it later.” Winston pats his portly tummy before handing the cake to the sever and fixing me with a leering smile. “I do love a woman who is creative with her hands.”
Rage rolls off Garrick in waves at Winston’s blatant innuendo, and I’m ready for World War Three to kick off when Pepper rides to the rescue.
“Garrick, you’re looking well, and it’s so good to see you again, Stevie,” she says, materializing at my side and redirecting Garrick’s attention from Winston. She darts in to kiss me on the cheek, acting as if we’re the best of friends. “I got you a glass.” She hands me a flute filled to the brim with champagne, and I have a sudden urge to knock it back. Alcohol would help me get through this ordeal, but getting drunk would not be smart. Who knows what’s liable to pop out of my mouth uninhibited?
Pepper pulls me and Garrick away from his mother and Winston, leading us over to the window and introducing us to her date, Randall Clemmings VI. She actually introduces him like that. The poor fucker looks suitably embarrassed, gulping back his champagne and looking nervously out the window. Apparently, he works for her father, and Pepper got to know him over the summer when she was interning. They have just started dating. Pepper dropped that information dump in the first few minutes of conversation, and I’m sensing it was intentional.
I’m just not sure whose benefit it was for—mine or Garrick’s.
Garrick keeps his arm around my waist as we chat, while the older couples congregate at the bar behind us, perched on tall stools. My eye is drawn outside to the lavish pool area, gorgeous grounds, and the dock at the back leading to the lake. A large boat is stationed behind the property, and I’m guessing it belongs to Winston or Ivy.
After a tedious hour of forced conversation with Pepper and her date—and restrained drinking on my part—we are ushered to a grand dining room and escorted to our assigned seating at the opulently decorated table. A large crystal chandelier hangs overhead, matching the lit crystal candelabras up and down the center of the table. Plain gold-colored vases hold bunches of white roses, complementing the white and gold table linen.
I’m already terrified of spilling something and being chastised.
“Darling, you’re seated beside Pepper,” Ivy tells Garrick when he moves to claim the seat beside me.
Of course, he is.
This woman has no shame.
A card with Randall’s name is propped on the table in front of Garrick, and I wonder if Pepper was told to bring a date purely so they could foist him on me.
I’m hurt and fuming on Garrick’s behalf. He accepted his mother’s olive branch in true faith, but she had no intention of making any effort with me. I am not sure exactly what her agenda is today, but it’s definitely not welcoming me to the family.
Garrick drills an angry look at his mother. “I’m sitting beside my girlfriend, or we’re leaving.”
Ivy emits a high-keeled laugh. Everything about that woman is fake from her plastic face to her plastic tits, her pretend posh accent, her nauseating compliments-slash-ass-licking to the governor, and her obvious false humor. “There’s no need to get your panties in a bunch, darling.” She flashes us a syrupy-sweet smile laced with hidden venom. “I don’t know where your newfound dramatics have come from, but it’s rather unbecoming. I did not raise you to conduct yourself in this manner.”
She barely raised him from what I’ve been told. Dawn and his dad had a strong influence on Garrick growing up, and he spent most of his time in North Bend even if the divorce granted them joint custody of their only son. Ivy was often busy with society events, whichever husband she was married to at the time, or abroad on overseas trips, so he grew up largely with his father, and it shows. It’s lucky for Garrick his father and stepmother were the main influence in his life. I shudder to think of how conceited he might be if his mother had had more of a role in his life.
“I don’t see how speaking the truth amounts to drama, and what is wrong with my boyfriend wanting to sit beside me?” I ask before swigging from my champagne.
Across the table, Randall sits down beside Pepper in the seat that was meant for Garrick. Her mother is on her other side. Ivy and the governor have taken up position on either end of the table, and Winston slides into the seat beside me, much to my distaste.
“I don’t expect you to understand how things work in high society, dear,” Ivy says, her patronizing tone laced with sarcasm. “But it’s traditional to sit apart from one’s spouse or date at formal events.”
“We’re not royalty,” Garrick hisses, glaring at his mother. “This is supposed to be a family Thanksgiving dinner. One I fully expected to attend with my girlfriend by my side.”
