But instead they were blue…and belonged to a familiar man.
“Oh, fuck no!” I said loudly.
Chris, because the universe apparently had a nasty sense of black humor, grinned slowly at me as he looked me up and down.
“Are you wearing a dead cat?”
“This is not a cat,” I hissed at him. “It’s a fake white fox fur stole.”
“But it has the feet and tail and everything.”
“It’s an heirloom piece.”
“Just like the plastic crown?” Chris’s shoulders were shaking as he tried not to laugh.
I straightened my back and pushed my glasses up my nose.
“For your information, my grandmother was awarded this crown when she won the title of queen at the Ms. Smoked Eel pageant. And you’re one to talk,” I told him, ignoring the annoyed gesturing from Gunnar. “You’re wearing a skirt and a moth-eaten blazer.”
“This is a kilt,” he scoffed. “Clearly you are not a woman of taste.”
“That is a plaid skirt.” I pointed stiffly. “I do weddings. I do like a hundred weddings a year. Many of our grooms wear kilts, and that is not a kilt.”
“You’re just turned on by my bare legs,” Chris said, reaching out to pat me on the head.
Rip!The back of his jacket split.
He grinned. “Guess I’m just too muscular to be contained.”
“You smell like a bar,” I said flatly. “And is that eyeliner around your eyes? You look insane.”
“You look like you slept in a puddle!” he retorted.
“Ah, young love!” the officiant interrupted. “Shall we start the wedding?”
“I’m not marrying this loser!” I declared.
“Marry him,” Dana mouthed, making angry motions from the side of the room. “Now.”
I set my jaw stubbornly.
“Just think about the fantastic wedding night I’ll give you,” Chris whispered in my ear, breath laced with booze.
Great, my soon-to-be husband is a drunk and obnoxious and a manipulative liar.
“I was supposed to marry a Svensson,” I mouthed back at Dana.
Her nostrils flared, and she reached in her Birkin bag, pulled out a contract, and jabbed at it with a perfectly manicured finger.
Fuck contracts! I had no assets unless you counted the hundreds of thousands of dollars of student loan debt I had accumulated from my ill-fated run at a bachelor of arts degree and a master’s of fashion photography.
You can’t squeeze blood from a stone.I refused to spend any more time in Chris’s presence. I had been humiliated by him enough, thank you very much.
I turned to walk down the aisle and saw my friends. Ivy was making pleading motions. I sagged. We needed the publicity for our company. Dana was well-connected, and if word got around that Weddings in the City did not fulfill our contracts, we could kiss any more work goodbye.
“Fine,” I said through gritted teeth. The spilled water had ruined my hair, and tendrils had escaped the elaborate updo and were plastered onto my forehead. I swept them out of my face and turned back to the altar and Chris’s smug face.
“Fine, we will get married.”
