More like one for each hand, thanks.
I reach to pull out Lia’s chair for her, but Brian gives me the stink eye of all stink eyes, so I back off. Instead, I pull out my own chair and mentally thank myself for being so gentlemanly. The Beave sits next to me, Brian sits next to The Beave, and Lia sits between us like a happy little family.
Not uncomfortable at all.
“Now, I’ve informed the baker of our preference of flavors,” The Beave starts out with.
“What would those be?” I ask. “Because I don’t think you asked Lia.”
“I told her what Lia likes,” Brian says.
“Oh, and what did you say?” I question.
Brian straightens and says, “Vanilla bean with vanilla frosting.”
Ha, we fucking knew it.
“That’s not what she prefers,” I say as the hairs on the back of my neck rise, a dog fight about to break out. “If she has to suffer through something as drab as vanilla, then she prefers to pair it with a raspberry lemon curd. She also enjoys red velvet with cream cheese frosting, but the cake must have chocolate chips in it. If there are no chocolate chips, she wants nothing to do with red velvet. But her favorite flavor is lemon blueberry, which I’m sure is not an option you considered.”
Brian’s eyes narrow, and he turns to Lia. “You have been just fine with vanilla before.”
Lia looks back and forth between us. “Well, it’s not my first pick.”
“But a pick at that,” The Beave chimes in. “And since we will have over three thousand attendees, going with the most common flavor will obviously be the most beneficial choice.”
“Three thousand?” Lia asks, looking at The Beave, then Brian. “I thought we cut that list down.”
“We were going to,” Brian says, “but I spoke with Mother last night, and we think it’s best not to insult anyone.” Except your damn fiancée.
“Not insult anyone?” I step in. “How do you even know three thousand people? That seems absurd to me.”
“Well, good thing it’s not your wedding,” Brian shoots back. “Maybe when you’re finally able to get someone to fall in love with you and walk down the aisle instead of creeping on other men’s girls, you can choose how many people attend the wedding.”
“Hey,” Lia says. “Brian, he’s not creeping on anyone.”
“Now, now,” The Beave says, trying to talk us down, but my hands are clenching into fists under the table.
Where the fuck does this guy get off?
He doesn’t even know her favorite cake flavor, and he thinks he can mouth off to me?
Before I can respond, The Beave cuts in, “Brian and I had a long conversation about the wedding planning that I frankly thought was getting out of hand, and we agreed on some things last night.”
“How the hell could you have a conversation without Lia?” I ask, my anger rolling back my politeness.
“Pardon me?” The Beave asks. “Mr. Cane, it would do you a service not to swear at me.”
Yeah, I’m not taking this bullshit today.
“Mrs. Beaver, it would do you a service to treat Lia with some respect. In case you’ve forgotten, my brothers and I own this city, this state, this country, so unless you want your reputation to completely and utterly tank, you will tell Lia exactly why the plans you’ve already made are not satisfactory.”
From the corner of my eye, I spot Lia’s silent gape as she turns toward me.
I’m not fucking around today. Not after what Lia told me about Brian. Not after what I said to her last night.
Enough is enough. They aren’t going to push around my girl, not for one more goddamn second.
“Where do you get off threatening my mother like that?” Brian asks, his hands gripping the edge of the table as if he’s about to flip it.
The Beave pats his arm. “Relax, darling, I can handle this.”
Poised and calm, The Beave presses her hands together and says, “As you are aware, this union was not my first choice for Brian—”
“What do you mean?” Lia asks, her eyes falling on Brian.
“Mother, that’s not true. You like Lia.”
“I do. I think you are a lovely girl, but if I had my way, Brian would marry someone with status, and unfortunately, that’s not the case here. And therefore, I am paying for a wedding that reflects our status, even though he’s marrying you. That is why we switched back to the church, took out the daisies, and invited the people we originally wanted to invite.”
Wow.
She can’t be fucking serious.
How can someone with an ounce of a conscience go behind a bride’s back and change everything about her wedding that she agreed upon?
I glance at Brian, waiting for him to say something, to stand up for Lia, but instead, he just sits there like the pitiful, pathetic man he is.
Looks like I’m going to have to stand up for her, prove to her that I’m the man she can rely on. I’m the man who deserves her hand. I’m the fucking man who can and WILL make her happy.
I go to open my mouth with a retaliation when Lia turns to Brian and says, “You allowed her to do that? It’s one thing to just sit there and allow her to insult me to my face about how I’m not the pedigree of woman she would prefer for you to marry, but to have a conversation with her last night, after we fought, and let her change everything about our wedding? Did you do that out of spite?”
“Okay, here are the samples,” the baker says, setting a tray in front of us, clearly not sensing the strained tension at the table as her assistant passes around the champagne. “We have as requested, the vanilla bean cake with vanilla frosting, the vanilla bean cake with chocolate frosting. The chocolate fudge cake with vanilla frosting, and the chocolate cake with chocolate frosting.” She sets some forks down and says, “Enjoy,” before she takes off again.
When the baker is out of earshot, Brian says, “I didn’t do anything out of spite. My mother was consoling me after our fight, and we discussed how the wedding was stressing you and that we should just let Mother do the planning.”
Lia sits a little taller, her confidence growing. “The only reason the wedding planning is stressful is because we’re being forced to get married in four weeks, your mother is trying to take over, and no one seems to be listening to me besides Breaker.”
“Because Breaker wants nothing more than for our relationship to fail,” Brian says. Oh wow, look at that. We finally have something we can agree upon.
“He’s been nothing but supportive. He even gave me tips on how to give you a blow job . . . one you didn’t want.”
“Jesus, Mary,” The Beave says, clasping her hand over her chest as Brian stares me down. I just shrug my shoulders because honestly, what else can I do at this point? I lean back and take a sip of the bubbly while I enjoy the theatrics. “Can we show an ounce of decorum?”
“Why the hell are you talking to Breaker about our sex life?” Brian asks.
“What sex life?” Lia announces, and it takes everything in me not to laugh. “You barely even look at me when I’m naked.”