“Why?” Ronan grins. “You miss him?”
Not in a million years. “We need to take pictures.”
“He’s probably playing chess against himself.” Xander sips from a glass of champagne and grimaces. “This shit is awful. Do you have any Vodka somewhere?”
“We have no relationship with the mafia, thank you very much.”
“You don’t have to be a bitch about it.” He messes up my plates for good measure before running away.
I nearly hit him with a pan. Ronan steals one more scone and jogs away, too, before I can catch him. He almost runs into Mum on his way out.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Davis.” He takes her hand in his and kisses the back of it. “Is it only me or have you become even more beautiful over the years?”
She laughs, the sound throaty. “You’re such a darling, Ronan.”
He bows to her like the proper gentleman he’ll never be and leaves.
Mum joins me at the counter, walking in that confident, lady-like way. She’s wearing a red dress. No kidding. Her golden locks are styled like an actress’s and she has perfect makeup made for models.
When I told her she’s not supposed to look better than the bride, she said, “Nonsense. Do you want the media to say Cynthia Davis is heartbroken over her husband’s remarriage? I need to look my absolute best.”
That was after she cried in the bathroom and I hugged her, crying too, but for different reasons.
Yes, I now realise my parents will never be together, but I lost something else too.
“How many times have I told you that you don’t have to do this, Babydoll?” She glances down at the containers with distaste. “Your father pays people for that.”
“I just want to help.”
“Go outside and take pictures. That'll be your greatest help. But don’t you dare play t
he piano and appear too happy for him.”
“I’ll go out in a bit.” We have that dreadful new family picture we need to take.
“Helen looks awful in that dress. She should’ve put in more effort.”
“Mum…”
“What? I’m just saying. I’d hoped for some competition, but she doesn’t even stand a chance. Ever since school, she’s always been a nerd.”
“Can we stop talking about Helen?”
“Fine. I can’t believe your scoundrel father invited the entire party,” she hisses under her breath. “It’s like he’s out to embarrass me and make me look pitiful in front of them.”
Or he just wanted them to share his happiness. But I don’t say that, or Mum would go bonkers. She constantly thinks I’m siding with him anyway.
“You can leave, Mum. You don’t have to stay.”
“Cynthia Davis running from her ex-husband’s wedding. Do you want to see that in tomorrow’s headlines? I thought you were on my side, Silver.”
I’m on both your sides. I want to yell, but I don’t, because that will freak her out more than the words themselves.
“Well, are you?” she insists, her brow furrowing.
“Of course I am.”
“That’s my Babydoll. Now, come here. Let me look at you.” She takes me by the hand and spins me around so she can get a full view of my soft pink dress with tulle as a skirt. It stops a little above my knees and is tight at my breasts and waist. My hair is straight and falls to the small of my back in thick blonde strands. I have worn light pink lipstick to match.