Page 100 of Weddings, Revenge & Fake Dating

Poor Sophia finally runs out of steam, and Nathan lets her go.

“Why should I trust any of you after what you’ve done?” She spins in a circle, pointing to each of us. “You all pretended to be my friends, my maid of honor, my family.” She wipes her face with her sleeve. “And the thing is, Jeanie, I would have chosen a relationship with you over Roman any day, but you didn’t want me. I’ve always tried to be nice to you, but it was never enough. I was never enough.” Her words become watery and slurred.

“No, no, no.” I rush to her side. “You’ve always been enough. I’m so sorry, Fifi. You’re right. I want to fix this. I want us to be closer. I promise, we’re telling you the truth.” I rub a hand over her shoulder.

“It’s too late. I don’t care what any of you say. I’m marrying Roman. It’s my day. You will not ruin it.” She shrugs away.

She still doesn’t believe us.

“Okay.” I swallow. “But there’s one last thing you’ll have to forgive me for. Mom, Nathan?” I give them each a look.

We talked about this last night, what we would do if we couldn’t convince Sophia to call off the wedding. It started out as a joke, but now it seems like a solid backup plan. Shoulder to shoulder, the three of us form a wall and edge toward her.

“What’s happening here?” Sophia’s eyes widen as she lifts her hands like she’s trying to balance.

She steps back several paces but stumbles over Freddie, who hasn’t budged from his sleep-athon. She rights herself, though her eyes never leave ours, like she’s too scared to turn her back on us.

And she should be.

“Are we really doing this?” Nathan asks, sounding nervous.

“She’s leaving us no other choice,” Mom says.

“Fifi, remember the time I trapped you inside Grandpop’s steamer trunk and tried to mail you to Alaska?” I offer her a shaky smile, but I’m sure it only comes off as threatening.

Sophia frowns, looking even more worried. “I smelled like mothballs for a week.”

“I promise to send you someplace warmer this time.”

It’s a joke. Mostly.

“What?” Sophia trips and falls into an open and empty casket.

When her butt hits the pillow-soft lining, Nathan grabs her feet and shoves them flat into the box. I wrestle her shoulders down and do the same. Mom stands behind, inching the lid closed until all of Sophia’s flailing limbs and digits are safely inside. Then we tie it closed by looping a belt through the handles, making sure to leave enough give for air.

Sophia screams bloody murder from within. She beats her fists against the case. Frantic feet bang the padded walls.

“We’re protecting you, Fifi,” I yell. “It’s only temporary.”

“Well, that went well.” Nathan sits on the lid and wipes a bit of sweat from his brow.

I plunk down beside him and lean my head on his shoulder.

“I need a drink.” Mom heads for the kitchen to pour another glass of water. Two days in a row is a lifetime record.

“What’s all the noise?” Dex appears from his room, looking rumpled. “Did Freddie get stuck in the coffin again?” he asks with a yawn.

“Just Aunt Sophia.” I cross the room to check his forehead. The knot is looking better, at least.

“Do I even want to know what you’re all up to?” Dex asks in his parental tone.

Nathan ushers him toward his bedroom. “Maybe you should go back to bed a little bit longer.”

“Who’s going to tell Roman the wedding’s off?” Mom asks.

“When I find him, that’ll be the least of his worries,” I say.

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