“What the hell are you two mouthing about? It’s not like I’m leaving on good terms or even know exactly what I’m leaving to do. But I just can’t stay here. It’s not good for any of us, and it’s going to end up destroying the company, and more importantly, our family.” My voice is getting louder, not in anger but frustration that they don’t see what I see.
Courtney claps her hands, accenting my name. “Ross Andrews, you listen to me and you listen good.” Even Abi shuts her always-running mouth at Court’s don’t-fuck-with-me tone.
“You just said some really sweet things about me in that meeting, but you have no idea why Dad works with me the way he does, do you?” She pauses for a nanosecond then dives back in. “News flash. It’s not because I’m some yes-man who does what he says at every turn.”
I raise a brow sardonically. “Seriously?”
She laughs big and bold. “Dad and I fight like cats and dogs about virtually everything—analyzing angles, negotiating percentages, calculating and strategizing in every way we can. It’s what we do for fun because we are two peas in a pod. And then, once we reach a resolution behind closed doors, only then do we open the floor to discussion, knowing damn well what direction we’re heading. Just because you only see me agree with Dad doesn’t mean that I do. It means that I know when and where to argue and when and where to play nice. He taught me that.”
I look at Abi, who’s looking at Court with thoughtful eyes. “I can see that,” Abi says, nodding. “You’re good at managing everything but protecting the image that needs to be presented.”
“Thank you.” Court dips her chin graciously. “Abi, why don’t you work for the company?”
I’m spinning at the random direction change after Court drops a bombshell like her and Dad fighting all the time about work stuff. Okay, maybe it’s not fighting, exactly, but I guess I did think Court went along with Dad most of the time. I guess not. I had no idea, literally none.
Abi grins. “Uhm, because this” —she waves her hands around my office— “is not me at all. I don’t care about shareholders and making millions. I like losing myself in a beautiful arrangement, seeing someone’s face light up when they get flowers, and the small potatoes style of my shop. Janey and I work damn hard, but I feel like I’m in control of my own destiny there. Here, I never would be.”
That I knew. I remember Abi telling Dad that she was going to open a boutique flower shop after she graduated from business school. He’d been aghast, but she’d proven him wrong with hard work, dedication, and her own rebellious spirit.
Court smiles like that was exactly the answer she was going for, but I still don’t get it. Shit. Could my sisters be right, and I’m an idiot? Evidence is pointing to that being the case with the way they’re both looking at me like a bug in a jar, but I’m not sure why.
Abi rolls her eyes. “So, Dad wants what’s best for us? Agreed?” I nod slowly, realizing that though he might’ve gone about it in the wrong way entirely, his intentions were good. Court said the same thing before. “He puts Court at his side, knowing she can hold her own there.” I nod again, looking at Court, trying to picture her arguing with Dad.
“I might need proof of that,” I suggest.
“He lets me go wild and open a flower shop.” I smile, because Abi is a bit wild, but she’s smart about it.
“And you . . .” I hold my breath, afraid of what she’s going to say, of what failure she’s going to point out because she’s got several to choose from. “You, he puts in charge, but away from his shadow to let you shine because he knew you needed that space. You have always been the golden child, the one who worked his ass off to make Mom and Dad proud, but Dad wants you to grow up and be your own man. He was trying to help you stand on your own two feet, Ross.”
My brows furrow in denial.
Court jumps in. “What would’ve happened if Dad had told Abi or me to ‘settle down with a good boy’?”
I scoff. “Well, first off, Abi would’ve told him to fuck off, and you would’ve probably said you’re too young. And then I would’ve killed him.”
She laughs. “But when he told you to, you marched right out there and got yourself a bride. Fucking overachiever.”
Abi and Courtney both laugh, and I’m reminded of the years at home, the two of them having each other’s back, but me always watching over them. I feel like those roles are changing. That maybe we’re on equal footing now, protecting each other, and their attempt to knock some sense into my head is done with love.
“So, you two think my leaving is a good thing?” I’m trying to put pieces together here, but I feel like everyone else had the puzzle finished long ago and I’m just getting the box opened.
“Give the man a cookie,” Courtney says.
“Well, that’s what I’m doing,” I say, throwing my hands up. “Why are you giving me such a hard time if I’m doing what you think I should?”
“Because you need to do it for the right reasons,” Abi says, chill as a cucumber.
“Yeah, well, I’ve been doing all sorts of things for the wrong reasons lately, haven’t I?” I say morosely.
They’ve given me so much to think about—my own personality, my history with Dad, my work here at the company—but I was telling the truth earlier. It’s really all about Violet right now. The rest can wait. “She hates me. Look what happened to Papa. That was why she was doing all of this, and I ruined it.”
“Pretty sure that was Colin,” Abi says drolly. “But she doesn’t hate you. She’s just struggling right now. Papa had surgery Sunday, and he’s still in ICU.”
“They’re moving him to rehab today,” I interject, and she gapes. I shrug. “The hospital talks to the financial guarantor to arrange payments. What insurance didn’t pay, I am. It’s the least I can do.”
Court and Abi both grin. “Good move,” Court says with approval.
“Well, it’s the only one I have until she talks to me again. I just want to be there for her. I know she’s hurting and I don’t want her to go through this alone.”
“You really do love her, don’t you?” Court says, and I nod.
Abi whispers something, looking at the ceiling, and I get the impression she’s praying for forgiveness. “Uh, Abs . . . you okay?”
“I’m going to break a cardinal rule of friendship here, and that’s something I don’t take lightly. I want you to know that.” Her build-up is making me nervous, but then I fly with her words. “Violet loves you, Ross. She always has, I think, but more importantly, she really does now. She didn’t want to tell you before the wedding, but she’s in love with you. Disgustingly so.”
I stand up in shock, getting in Abi’s face as I grab her shoulders and shake her. “Are you serious? I love her too, but I figured I could make her love me after she’d married me.”
She laughs. “Figured a captive audience would be in your favor, did you?”
“Holy shit, I have to go to her. Now. Where is she?” I grab for my phone, already looking for her number. No, Archie’s number. Violet won’t answer, but I’ll get him to tell me where she is.
“Whoa there, cowboy,” Court says. “I think this is the time when you don’t go rushing off half-cocked—wait . . . some other expression because I can’t talk about my brother’s cock. Anyway, what you need is a plan.”
Abi claps happily. “Ooh, you’re speaking my language, Sis.”
“Scheming?” I ask, worried. “Isn’t that how we got into this mess?”
Abi laughs. “Yeah, but sometimes, the only way to get out of the mess of a scheme . . . is another scheme. This one’ll be different, though.”
“How so?”
“You’re going to make a complete ass of yourself while being totally honest. We combine that with enough romantic over the top gushing and you may have a chance.”
I nod and wrap an arm around my sister’s shoulders. “Okay, if we’re being all honest and shit, I love you guys.”
“You’re all right sometimes,�
� Court says with a smirk that looks so similar to my own.
Abi hugs my ribs, grinning. “Love you too, big brother.”
Chapter 28
Violet—Friday—6 Days After the Wedding
“Papa?” I ask as I come into his room. He’s awake, which I didn’t expect, but also, Nana and Mom are standing next to his bed looking happier than they have been in nearly a week.
“Violet, come here honey,” Papa says, waving me over as he pats the bed next to him.
Mom still hasn’t said much to me over the last few days, sticking mostly with Papa’s medical updates and some orders on what to do at Nana’s house, like ‘go by and water the plants.’ But right now, she seems to be in a better mood because she nods with a smile. She plants a kiss on Papa’s cheek and then she and Nana move to give me space next to him.
“Sit down. Your grandmother’s been filling me in on a lot of what’s been going on while I was taking a nap.”
“You weren’t taking a nap, Papa,” I remind him, worried he’s confused about what’s been happening. “You were—”
“I know, little one,” Papa says with a smile, rubbing my hand. His voice is so soft I can barely hear him, but the light in his eyes means so much to me. He’s not giving up, not yet. “But I’m not going just yet. I just wanted to pass along a little bit of advice, an old man to a young lady.”
“Papa, I’m so sorry.” I look from him to Nana to Mom, pleading with them for forgiveness.
“Don’t apologize for anything,” he says, patting my arm. “As for my advice . . . live your life, Violet. I love you, honey, but I am an old man. Regardless of whether I live one more day or one more decade, you can’t live your life for me. Go and find your happiness. That’s what I truly want. That’s what I wanted all along. Walking you down the aisle was never about it being the end of my bucket list but about it being the beginning of your life. I just wanted to see my little Violet grown up and happy. That’s all.”
The words take a lot out of him, and he’s wheezing a little at the end. “Stefano?” Nana says carefully.
He smiles and holds up a hand, letting us know he’s okay.
“But . . . wait,” I reply, starting to argue before something he just said hits me. “What’s this about a decade?”
Papa taps his chest, tracing over the scar I know is hidden by his hospital gown. “That’s the good news, too. Dr. Lee said that I was a textbook patient on the table. He said that with my new hardware, if I’m good and listen to Angela” —he looks at her lovingly— “I’ve maybe got a few more years in me. No promises, of course, but we’re never promised tomorrow. But it’s enough hope that maybe I’ll give up a few things, and lead a bland, boring life of ease. Except for lasagna. They can pry that out of my cold, dead hands.”
I swat at his arm super-gently. “That’s not funny, Papa!”
“I was the one who almost died, so if I want to tell jokes about it, then I will. And no granddaughter of mine is going to stop me.” He smiles, and I can’t help but return one, even if the reminder still hurts.
Papa lies back and closes his eyes. “Tell me what happened. All of it . . . from that figlio di puttana to your Ross.”
Mom gasps, “Dad!”
My Italian is excellent and fluent, but that’s not an expression I’ve ever heard Papa say. I look to Mom in confusion and whisper, “What’s that mean?”
Nana chuckles. “Mmm, my English curses are not the best, but something like son of a . . .”
Mom interrupts. “Motherfucker. Your grandfather just called Colin a motherfucker.”
Nana exclaims happily, “Yes, that’s it!”
I can’t help but laugh, and it feels good. Papa is awake and going to be okay, my mom and Nana are sitting with me, and we’re all smiling. It’s everything I wanted . . . almost.
I tell them the whole story—how Ross and I ended up faking an engagement and wedding, how Colin came crawling back and I’d told him to get lost, and how I fell in love with Ross. For real. But now it’s all in ruins.
“Oh, Violet,” Mom says, tears in her eyes as she hugs me to her. I let myself get wrapped in her arms like when I was younger, even if I’m taller than she is now. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m sorry too, Mom.”
Nana throws her arms around us, sobbing out. “I’m sorry too.”
I look at her through blurry eyes. “What are you sorry for?”
She smiles. “I don’t know, but I didn’t want to be left out.”
And then we’re hugging again, a mess of tears and a blend of Italian and English as we make up.
Papa looks on from his bed with one eye open and a smile until we’re done.
“So, what are you going to do about your husband, Vi?” he asks.
“Papa, he’s not really my husband. We’ll probably just get it annulled.” The words catch in my throat painfully.
He motions for Nana to come closer and whispers in her ear. She dips her chin like she’s asking if he’s sure and he nods. She stands upright and then lays a sucker punch to my upper arm.
“Hey! What was that for?” I say, rubbing the spot even though Nana couldn’t hurt a fly with a weak punch like that.
“You’ll do no such thing until you tell him the truth of how you feel and see if he feels the same way,” Papa decrees. He literally just told me to live my life for myself and not him, but then he turns around and starts making proclamations like he’s a king. Not that I’m going to tell the man in the hospital bed with a new hardware-improved heart to hush.
Mama is slightly kinder. “Baby girl, that boy is over the moon for you. I saw that, which is why I was so mad. I thought he was lying to you, you were lying to him, and you were both lying to everyone. And that Colin boy? What were you ever thinking?” She shakes her head, her nose crinkled like she smells something bad.
I twist my lips. “I don’t know, Mom. Maybe we were lying. Maybe mostly to ourselves.”
“Tell him,” Papa says again.
And this time, I nod in agreement. “I will.”
“If he is not so sure, maybe remind him how beautiful you looked in your dress. Or remind him of other things. The stomach is not the only way to a man’s heart,” Nana says slyly. “Did I ever tell you how I got Stefano to propose to me?”
“NO!” Mom and I shout at the same time, but we smile when we see Nana and Papa making lovey-dovey eyes at one another. I probably don’t want to hear that story, but if that look after fifty years of marriage is what I can have with Ross, I’m willing to do just about anything.
* * *
I step into the hallway, pulling my phone from my bag, and dial Ross. It rings three times and then goes to voicemail. I consider leaving a message but hang up, wanting to talk to him in person.
I call Abi next, thinking maybe she’ll know where Ross is.
She answers right away but sounds breathless and her voice is a little too high. “Hey, Vi! Is Papa okay?”
“Yes,” I say, nodding even though she can’t see me. “Abi? I’m ready. I need to talk to Ross. Do you know where he is?”
She hums. “Uhm, maybe I do. He’s had a really rough week at work. I’m sure you understand. Dad’s coming down on him pretty hard.”
There’s a scuffle in the background, and I swear she makes some noise that translates to ‘no’ in dog language. “You okay, Abi?”
“What? Oh, yeah, fine. Just some ornery flowers not wanting to wait to bloom. I tell you what, give me until tomorrow. I’ll get Ross and you together. It’s what I do, after all!” She sounds breezy and weird, but I’ll take it if she can get Ross to talk to me.
“Deal. What time and where?”
“Hmm, how about if I pick you up? That way, if it goes well, you can just go home with my brother.”
“Shouldn’t my going home to have make-up sex with your brother ick you out?” I say, remembering our earlier conversations about this very subject and finding a bit of my usual sass now that Papa’s okay.
<
br /> “Ew, you’re right. I have to go bleach my eyes out. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at eight!” And with a click, she’s gone.
That was so weird, but that’s Abi. And I’m sure her family is going nuclear with the fallout. I’ve tried to stay away from everything, the news, the papers, social media, because I wanted to focus on Papa. But now I wonder just how bad it’s been for Ross.
* * *
Pulling into the familiar parking lot, my nerves start jangling all the more. “Abi, where are you taking me?”
“Zip it,” she says from the driver’s seat, her eyes gleaming. “Let me do what I do best. Put this on,” she orders, handing me a swatch of black fabric.
I spread it out and realize, “Uhm, why are you giving me a blindfold? Is this going to be one of those high school nightmare things where everyone makes fun of me?” I smile as I say it, mostly trusting that Abi wouldn’t do that to me but not one hundred percent.
“Do it. You know you wanna. Do it, do it, do it . . .” she chants like an after-school special about peer pressure.
I grin and slip the blindfold—okay, it’s more a black sleeping mask—over my eyes. “If you’re fucking me over, Abigail Andrews, I will never forgive you. And I’m going to tell your parents about every bad thing you ever did—sneaking out, parties, making out with guys.” She laughs, knowing there’s not much to tell. We were pretty good kids.
The car stops and her door opens. A minute later, mine does too, and I feel Abi’s hand as she helps me climb from the car.
“Are you ready for this, Violet? No going back, no take-backsies. Once he’s yours, you’re stuck with him—smells, messiness, faults and all.”
I laugh but grab at her hand. “You make it sound like he’s a stinky teenager still. Trust me, I’ve seen Ross. He’s all man.”
Her retching gag noise is exactly the response I was going for. “Come on, before you start telling me all the dirty details. Oh, I’m supposed to remind you that you owe Archie those. Something about dip-dying silk and that you never make good on your promises. He said you’d know.”
My Big Fat Fake Wedding Page 33
