But no. Not Ross, and not for me. This is a big deal, a production to fool everyone. We can’t go at it half-assed or everyone will know it’s fake. That’s why he’s doing this. It has to be.
“So, did you find the dress?” she asks, hands clasped below her chin.
I shake my head. “No, not in that batch. But the associate said another batch—maybe even another store—would stop by tomorrow. I tried to argue about my schedule, but she said it’d already been arranged with my assistant and that he’d blocked out the time. Can you believe Archie?”
Even as I say it, I know it’s ridiculous. Archie will do whatever the hell he wants, and there’s nothing I can say or do to change it. I might be his boss, but he’s a man of his own wills and wants. It’s one of the things I love about him . . . usually.
Before Abi can answer, the bells jingle, signaling a customer up front. She turns to go help them, but a voice calls out. “Violet, where are you, baby?”
Abigail and I meet eyes, both of us with pinched brows and animated horror marring our faces.
“What the fuck?” I whisper as I go out front to see . . .
Colin.
He’s wearing his usual workday suit, spit-shined shoes, and slicked back hair. He looks . . . boring.
“Oh, there you are, Vi. I saw your car on the street and knew it was the sign I was looking for.” He smiles like any of that made sense.
“What are you doing here, Colin?” I say, not mad, exactly, more just confused with what’s going on.
Abi is flailing her arms wide, waving him off. “No way, mister. You can spin on your thumb and get the hell out of my store.”
“I wanted to talk,” Colin says to me, ignoring Abi. “I . . . I wanted to say I’m sorry, and I’ve been thinking. I was wrong.”
Unable to deal with Abi’s act, which had evolved into something like a manic dance at this point, I step around her. “You said you wanted it to end, Colin. So it’s over. I haven’t looked back”
“I overreacted!” Colin says, his voice touched with anger. “You were pressuring me, neutering me half the time, and—”
“Neutering?” I scoff, trying not to laugh. Neutering is the last thing I want from a husband, especially after the way Ross fucked me rough and hard. Nope, give me a fully functioning set of balls, thank you very much. But those balls have to come with respect. “Colin, I never neutered you. I wanted you to be you and for me to be everything you could ever want in a woman. In fact, I still hope you find someone and have a good life. But as for you and me . . . it’s over.”
“Woman, you don’t tell me when things are over!” Colin thunders, his entitled brattiness at having his toy taken away making him have what equates to a grown-man temper tantrum. But newsflash, I’m not a toy. And also, what did I ever see in him? Was he always this . . . childishly annoying?
“Except that I just did. As much as I hate to say it, you were right. We weren’t meant for each other—”
He interrupts me, a sneer twisting his lips. “So I’ve seen in the papers. You think you’re suddenly meant for Ross Andrews? I’m sure you do. You think you’re marrying better, don’t you? Hooked you a sucker with a bigger bank account than mine. But he’ll see you for the gold-digging whore you are.”
Of course, he’d think this is about money and status, as if those are the only reasons to get married. It’s like he thinks I’m some shiny toy. He doesn’t want me, but he damn sure doesn’t want anyone else to have me either.
Fighting hard for the high road, I say neutrally, “For so many reasons, I’m happier without you. Just leave.”
I turn my back on him, walking through the doorway to the back. As I pass her, Abi is glaring at Colin, shooting daggers with her eyes that could accurately pin a bug to the wall. “You heard her. Get out.”
She puts her arm around me, ushering me into the depths of the workroom. A moment later, I hear the jingle of the bells again.
“He’s gone,” Abi says, rubbing my back. “What the hell was that?”
I shake my head. “No idea. I haven’t heard a single word from him since the coffee shop, and now this.”
“What a douche canoe! No offense, but how did you ever love him? Oh, God, how did you fuck him? Please say it was missionary with the lights out. Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am is the only way I think a woman could handle a guy like that. Just get it over with.”
Her outrageousness helps dry up the tears trailing down my face. I’m not sad, not even mad at Colin. It’s just ridiculous, and I feel stupid for wasting my time with him, blind for not seeing who he really is. And getting called a gold-digging whore is bound to do a number on even Lizzo-sized self-confidence.
“Is everyone saying I’m a gold-digger? I know that one article did, but is that what everyone thinks?” I ask Abi, not sure if I want her to tell me the truth.
“Who cares what they say?” she responds, and I know she’s giving me the kindness of not saying out loud what the grapevine is calling me. ‘Gold-digging whore’ is probably the kindest of it.
“I’m scared, Abs,” I confide. “I’m scared everyone’s going to find out this is all fake and it’s all going to fall apart in flames of glory. I’ll be the laughingstock of the city, and Ross will be a pariah, any hopes he has of improving his reputation at work dashed by our secret arrangement.”
There’s so much more to this now, but on the surface, that’s my fear. Fear of being found out. Because the rest of this, the emotional questions playing below that surface, are too much to face right now. I can’t consider that I might be a fool in front of Ross . . . again. And this time, it would be a devastating blow I might never recover from.
Because I’ve fallen for him. Slowly, over years, and then fast, all at once. But I have.
She traces comforting circles on my back, speaking clearly and certainly, daring the universe to not obey her commands. “No one is going to find out that it’s a fake marriage so you can both save face. You’re going to walk down that aisle and make your Papa proud for his last days, and Ross is going to get Dad off his back and kick ass at work. And in six months, when the dust is settled, you’ll see where you land. Maybe it’s together. Maybe it’s not. But you’ll at least have had the dream.”
“I hope you’re right,” is all I can say, because it’s the absolute truth. Universe, if you’re listening, please let her be right.
Chapter 15
Ross
I stare out the windows overlooking the city, mentally reciting my presentation. This is a big one, important to the company and to my career. I need it to go well, and it will. I’m prepared, the numbers are great, and it’ll be a boon for the company.
As long as Dad can see that.
A knock on the door interrupts my speech. I look over to see Kaede in the doorway, his brand-new ‘armored’ tablet in his left hand. “It’s time.”
I nod, and we stride off down the hallway together. Knights to the battle, updated from the medieval brand of warfare to a battlefield of conference tables surrounded by the old guard.
We walk into the meeting room, where the only member of the board not yet present is Dad. It gives me a minute to review my meeting notes behind the podium while Kaede gets the display set up, him giving me the thumbs-up just as Dad and Courtney walk in.
Subtle, Dad. I know by his being tardy, he’s sending a signal to the rest of the board that I’m unimportant, that this presentation is unimportant. Everything with him is a multi-layered power play of strategy. Always.
“Thank you for coming, everyone,” Dad says before taking his place at the head of the table. “Ross?”
“Thank you, Dad, board members. I know a lot of things have been happening recently,” I start, getting a few chuckles from the more sympathetic board members, “and if I sound a little sleep deprived, my apologies.”
“Hell, it’s understandable. We were once young and in love too,” someone says, earning a chuckle from almost the entire room.
�
��Oh, good. I’m so glad to hear that planning a wedding wore you all out too,” I continue the joke before sobering. “Today, I’m here to propose a new venture for your consideration. I truly feel, and think you will too, after seeing the numbers, that this’ll set the company on a generational path of growth, making certain that we’re leading the cutting edge for the next decade and beyond.”
For the next half hour I go through my proposal, Kaede helping from time to time with his computer magic. He’s got the amazing knack of taking a hundred pages of scientific gobbledygook and turning it all into something that someone who received their MBA from Harvard back in the Reagan administration can understand.
By the end, even Dad looks a little less hostile, and as the lights come up, I know that I’ve made some headway. I bust my ass to deserve my spot in this company, and I’m even going so far as to get married under his directive. He has to see that and recognize the potential this deal has too.
“Ross, I’ll be honest,” Dad says as the board looks at him, “I understood about a quarter of that speech. Not that you or Kaede didn’t do a good job of dumbing it down for us geezers.”
There are a few laughs around the room, and even Courtney smiles a little. “If you’d like, Dad, I can start over?”
“No!” Dad protests, holding up his hands and smiling congenially. “I think you could spend a year trying to explain it to me and I still wouldn’t get some of it. That’s fine. I know the cutting edge keeps marching on and sometimes, we’re left watching it go. The part I did understand was the finances. And that told me everything I needed to know. We need accounting and R&D to double-check your figures, of course, but if everything looks good . . . well, I’d say we might have a new Andrews venture. We’ll reconvene on this when you’re ready.”
A thrill goes through me, so electrifying that I float for the rest of the meeting. A few board members do ask questions about my presentation, and I have answers at the ready, able to speak to any concerns they might have and even pump up the interest a bit more. After that, Dad talks about quarterly statements, and before I know it, the meeting is over.
Before leaving, Paul Washington, the head of R&D, comes up. “Impressive, Ross.”
“Thanks, Paul. I assume your guys are going to tear it apart?”
“Oh, we won’t give you a quick shine-on,” Paul says with a grin. “But just from my perspective, you nailed it. Your new young lady must really have gotten you grounded over the past few days. She must be something special to tame you so quickly.” Something about the way he says that lets me know he’s heard the rumors of my painting the town red, which is what started this whole ultimatum. But at least he can see the difference in me and is saying positive things now.
“She’s . . . amazing, Paul,” I tell him honestly. “And she does have a way with people, especially me.”
Paul leaves as the rest of the board files out, and I turn to look at the head of the table. Worry trickles through me when I see Dad sitting in his seat still, a scowl on his face.
Dammit. I thought he’d been behind me, that I’d knocked his socks off. But it was all a charade to him. He was smiling because the rest of the board was smiling, and he didn’t want to make a scene.
I’d busted my ass to give him what he says he wants, and still, he isn’t happy.
“What?” I say sternly, readying myself for verbal warfare with him.
“I don’t get you, Ross. You are so brilliant, could do so much, but you persist in wasting your time, your life, with pie-in-the-sky dreams and transient pleasures. This venture won’t happen. It’s not sustainable, nor is this relationship with Violet.” He slams his hands on the table, fierce eyes boring into me for a moment before he puts his head in his hands.
He’s shaking his head, mumbling toward the table, but I can hear him perfectly well. “We gave you everything. Education, support, opportunity. Maybe that’s where we went wrong. You never had to work for anything, and now you’re distracted by every shiny new thing that flits in front of you.”
“Ouch,” I deadpan. “And fuck off, Dad.”
I don’t talk to him like that, crass and combative. It’s not our way, and his jerk of reaction shows that he didn’t expect it.
“Don’t you dare speak to me like that, Son.”
Not this time. “I have worked my ass off. I earned every grade I ever got, earned my spot on every football team, and earned my degree. Yes, obviously, I got my position here because of my last name, but that’s more of a hardship than a boon because every day, I have to prove that I deserve it. And I do. You know that. You watch my numbers. I know you do. Maybe my personal life hasn’t been the picture-perfect fantasy you envisioned, but I’m working on it. I love Violet, and she loves me, and we’re getting married.”
So much of what I just said is the truth. A tiny voice in the back of my head whispers . . . maybe all of it? But that’s not true. Violet and I are making progress, big strides toward a healthier relationship, but it’s not love. There’s no way after just a few days.
Dad takes a big breath in and then slowly lets it out. His eyes look out the window and then back to me. “She’ll sign a prenup.”
I huff. “She’s not a gold-digger. She could care less about my last name, but yes, she’ll sign a pre-nup. She knew you would require one, and she’s fine with that because she’s not marrying me for my money.”
He hums, like he’s tasting that statement for truth but still profoundly doubts it.
I’m done with this.
Let Dad suspect. Let Dad feel a bit emasculated as I lay the foundations for the future. This isn’t exactly corporate warfare. We’re on the same team. It’s more like a pro football team. He’s the old star quarterback, and I’m the young lion coming up.
Dad wants to hang onto the starting job. He wants the accolades.
But this isn’t college any longer. I’m not going on a four-year time limit like I was back then. And this isn’t football, where I was good, but not top-flight.
No. No, this time, I’ve got the skills, the insight, and the ability to be not just the starter, but an All-Star. Before my career’s over, I’m going to be hoisting a few championships and MVP awards of my own.
And he won’t stop me.
I don’t think there’s any way to make him happy, to make him see that I’m doing everything I can for this company, for him, for mom, for our family.
For Violet. For yourself.
I get up and walk down the hall, leaving him at the head of his empty table.
In my office, Courtney is perched on my desk like she owns the place, her phone in hand.
“I don’t have the time or the patience for this right now, Court. Get out,” I snap.
Courtney lifts one brow, talking into the phone. “Yeah, Mom. He’s right here. Let me put you on speaker.”
Fuck, just what I don’t need. More family pressure and drama.
“Ross, dear!” Mom’s chirpy voice comes through the speaker. “So glad to catch you!” I eyeball Courtney, promising revenge for whatever she’s pulling right now.
“Sure, Mom. What’s up?”
“Well, the Community Freedom Gala is this weekend, and I know you don’t usually like to attend, but I’ve been talking to everyone about my lovely daughter-in-law to be, and everyone can’t wait to meet her. You two simply have to come,” she says like that wouldn’t be the equivalent of lining us up in front of a firing squad.
“Mom, we’re pretty busy with wedding prep stuff, you know. I’m not sure we can fit that into the schedule,” I say, injecting regret into my voice even though there’s no way in hell I want to go to this shindig.
It’s one of the almost quarterly events where all the state’s rich and charitable get together to celebrate life, liberty, and patting yourself on the back for donating while drinking Moet. No, thank you.
“Nonsense. You’ll come and play nice.” There’s no room for argument in her tone this time. The gloves are off. “Also, w
e’d like to make Violet’s family our special guests. It’s been so many years since I saw Maria. I think it’s time we reunite if you kids are getting married.”
My mouth drops open and Courtney reaches forward to push it closed with one manicured finger. The smile on her face says she’s enjoying every bit of this.
This could be a disaster.
While Abi’s cool, and Mom seems happy . . . there are going to be plenty of people at the Gala who’ll take one look at Nana Russo and give the look, pretending to be charmed while being sanctimonious and looking down their noses at the working-class family.
Knowing what I know of Nana and Aunt Sofia, they might end up snatching a few wigs and causing a scene . . . which is exactly what Violet would want to avoid. She’s nervous enough about her family starting to show up and the craziness the wedding might devolve into.
“Fine, Violet and I will come, but her family can’t exactly drop everything and attend a gala, Mom. I’m not even sure if Papa can get around that well right now.”
“Well, whoever can come, they should.” It should be a welcoming thing to say, but it sounds like a directive. “I’ll have Karl schedule them for a fun day of relaxation—manicures and hair treatments and dress shopping, our treat, of course. Goodness knows, they deserve it with everything going on with Maria’s dad.”
“I’ll see and let you know.” It’s the best I can do for right now. Maybe I can get them out of this later, somehow? I’ll tell Mom that I asked and they couldn’t come because . . . of something. I’ll figure it out.
But fuck, I committed Violet and me to going. There’s no getting out of that.
She’s won either way.
“I gotta go, Mom,” I say wearily. Between Dad and Mom, I’ve got whiplash so hard, my brain’s spinning. Dad wishes Violet would just go away, and Mom is trying to bring her whole family into the fold.
“Oh, of course, dear. Thank you for your help, Courtney!” she calls out as she hangs up. Court grins, knowing full well what she helped Mom do.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask Courtney, almost as mad at her as I am Mom and Dad.
My Big Fat Fake Wedding Page 19
