Dr. Cole Dawson: What is it that you want?
Me: I love the simplicity of a vanilla cake and matching buttercream. It’s classic and will go with anything.
Dr. Cole Dawson: So stand up for yourself, Emory. Don’t let her dictate the important details of a day like that. Thatconfidence that’s inside of you is there. Give yourself the okay to tap into it.
God.
I fucking love how he doesn’t comment on where I am with Lance—and the decision of our future. I love how he gives me what I need, even when it might not be whatheneeds.
I glance up, nibbling my lip in thought as Henley comes back over to the table with a binder that I presume has information about all their catering services. I didn’t even realize she walked away.
I search for the fire inside me. That spark that would have me standing up for myself. Because Dawson is right. This ismywedding, and I don’t like red velvet. I barely like the red roses that Larissa had to have included in my bouquet and centerpieces.
“Henley,” I say suddenly, my voice a little too loud. It catches Larissa’s attention, too. “We won’t be getting the red velvet.”
“Oh, that’s absurd,” Larissa comments, swinging her attention away from me. “Thatisthe choice we’d like. Now if you don’t?—”
“No,” I say, my tone unforgiving. I look Larissa directly in her eyes when she looks back over at me with an expression of horror—oddly, it reminds me of the nightmares I had, the ones she was present in. The ones where she blamed me and made me suffer for something that was completely out of my hands. “We willnot.I don’t like red velvet. In fact, what I actually would like to have is vanilla on vanilla.”
“Now, that is ridiculous,” Larissa says. “That’s boring and bland and not something we’ll have at a Bronson wedding. Besides, Lance loves red velvet, which is another reason I thought it was a great choice.”
She says it as if I haven’t been with her son for years, as if I don’t know his preferences. “I’ve never seen your son eat aslice of red velvet cake, Larissa.” My expression flattens, turning neutral despite a certain fire brimming under the surface. “Youlike it, but this ismywedding.” As those words fall from my lips, something in my gut flatlines. “And to be frank, I’m tired of you making all the choices regarding it.”
She scoffs, and Henley watches us. She slowly rises from her seat. “I think I’ll give you two a minute.”
Neither of us bother commenting on her departure.
“You ungrateful little brat,” Larissa sneers in a low voice, her upper lip flattening into a distasteful line of, you guessed it,red.“We have welcomed you into our lives, into our family, because Lance loves you and choseyouto be his fiancée. We offered to pay for many of the expenses, because Lord knows your absent family won’t offer a single dime, and this is how you act when you’re months away from taking the Bronson name?”
I don’t know what to say. I’m flabbergasted that such hateful words come out of her mouth. I go to open mine to reply in some capacity, but she continues.
“And to top it off,thisis how you act after Cliff and I make sure you don't have to be mentally institutionalized after your littlestuntout there on Coralhaven.”
A tightness constricts around my airways, but for once, I don’t let it take over. How dare she speak to me like I mean so little. Like I’mnothing.
My words hold strong, even though my voice wants to crack. “Nobody asked you to do anything for me.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” she snarls. “Lance requested that we take care of it so his soon-to-be wife’s poor choices wouldn’t interfere with his work life and the opportunity for a promotion. Do you really think a multimillion-dollar real estate company wants people running their agency who have ties to such weak, disposable individuals?”
I damn near fall out of my seat, but I hold steady.
In fact, I go as far as collecting my phone from my lap and shoving it into my clutch. “If this is what you really thought of me, Larissa, then it would have been good to say so before your son proposed.”
She has the audacity to say, “My son knows my thoughts, but I’m not selfish enough to keep him from what makes him happy.” Her judging gaze swoops over my body when I lift from the chair. “I’m not the one that has to come home to you every night, but I sure do pray for the person I love who does.”
That last comment hits me right where she intends, and it elicits a response I don’t expect. Tears prick behind my eyes, but I will not crumble in front of her. I won’t let her have the satisfaction of knowing that she has that much power over me.
Not anymore.
I let way too much time go by without having a voice, but I’m not letting go of it now. Never again will those around me make decisionsforme. I’m my own person. My own damn decision maker.
“You can have your opinions of me all you want, but it doesn’t mean I have to stand here and listen to them.”
She scoffs again. “Darling, you wouldn’t be able to handle it even if you tried.”
I give her one long look and say, “Goodbye, Larissa.”
16
