Unbreak My Heart (Rough Riders Legacy #1)

Clarissa settled Ellen behind a beautifully decorated table to open her gifts.

Apparently I shouldn’t have ignored the bridal registry link since all of her gifts were some sort of Swarovski crystal. So my “His and Hers” hand towels—his with a golf motif and hers with a shopping theme—were a little weird and a lot out of place.

Just like you.

I snuck away and snagged my third glass of whiskey. The stuff didn’t taste half bad after the third glass.

At least we didn’t have to play stupid party games and we were dismissed for the luncheon portion. Sadly, Char and I weren’t assigned seats at the same table in the back after all. The finger foods were interesting, if a little bland, and there weren’t nearly enough of them.

I listened to the table conversation as I nibbled on my itty bitty square of lemon poppyseed cake.

“June is just heartsick over the whole thing,” the woman across from me confided to the entire table. “Can you imagine?”

“Marybeth told her not to book that venue,” the silver-haired woman next to her retorted. “But June just followed her own agenda, like always.”

“Does the postponement of this fundraiser mean June is being reassigned to something else? Because I will take issue with that if Clarissa foists her off on me,” a woman my mother’s age groused.

They were still talking about fundraisers.

And me with no little cocktail forks to jab in my ears. I snickered…which brought their attention to me.

Seven pairs of judgy eyes homed in, scrutinizing my face, hair, clothing and beverage choice.

“I’m sorry, we’re being horribly rude,” the gossiper said. “It’s so lovely that you could join us.”

I said, “Quite,” with a straight face.

“Of course, many of us were surprised that Ellen had a daughter…um, your age.”

That was a polite save.

“Yes, Ellen looks far too young,” a pearl-wearing woman added.

“I’m sure she’s attributed her youthful look to clean living and good genes. I’m just lucky to take after her.”

Just then, a lowball glass filled with amber liquid appeared above my cake plate.

Char, that instigator, had bribed the waiter to deliver another whiskey to me.

With all eyes on me, I tried my damnedest to be classy by keeping my pinkie off the glass as I lifted it and sipped as if I was on the set of Downton Abbey.

“And you live in the Phoenix area?” the don’t-foist-June-on-me woman asked.

“Yes, in Scottsdale.”

Pleased looks all around.

At least my address passed their approval.

But old-sour-puss-pearl-wearer #2 wasn’t done grilling me. “You own? Or rent?”

“I’ve owned my home there for two years.”

“But you’re so young.”

I leaned forward as if I intended to dish the dirt. “I don’t mean to sound like I’m bragging, but I’ve been told that I could pass for a twenty-year-old.”

“But Ellen told us you were twenty.”

I laughed. “Honey, please. I’ll be thirty-one next month.”

“Well, I’ll be.” The ladies exchanged a smug look and tongues would be wagging later.

That’s what you get for putting me in the B section, Mom.

But my glee quickly vanished. I didn’t know why she’d invited me if she didn’t want me here.

That’s when I missed my Dad. He liked me. He wanted me around. In fact he’d texted me yesterday just to tell me that he loved me and missed me. I was such a crappy daughter for not responding right away, with a million kissy face emojis and sparkly pink hearts.

No time like the present to rectify that.

I didn’t even pretend to be discreet; I pulled out my phone and sent him the emoji-filled text I should’ve sent yesterday.

Dad: That’s a lot of hearts. You okay?

Me: I’m at Mom’s sucky bridal luncheon and I miss you.

Dad: Sorry. Is she being…?

Me: The same old Ellen? Yes. Except she wears pearls when she ignores me now.

Dad: I love that you have a sense of humor about this, sweetheart.

Me: Only because I know I have you in my corner no matter what.

Dad: That’s sweet. I appreciate it. So how much have you been drinking? LOL

Me: Eyeing drinky-poo #5. This lousy country club doesn’t even have Crown.

Dad: The horror. Get out of there right now. Clearly it’s totally sketch.

I laughed out loud. Literally. My dad was such a dork sometimes. I glanced up to see if anyone had noticed.

The entire table was watching me. And hooray, my mother chose that moment to look over. She glared at me, then she glared at my phone. Defiantly I held it up higher and sent another text.

Me: Uh-oh. Busted texting at the table by the bride-to-be. Gotta go. Love you.

Dad: Love you too. You have a DD Miss Drinky-poo #5 at 2:00 on a Saturday afternoon?

Shit. No I didn’t. But I would.

Me: I’ll figure something out. Seriously, I’ve gotta go. Her deadly glare is heating up the plastic on my phone and it’s melting to my hand.