“And exactly what am I supposed to do? Die my hair black or get a ‘Not Cecily’ tattoo on my face?”
“You needn't go to that much trouble,” she says. “You only need to stop being so very unremarkable.”
I slump down in my seat, and turn to face the window, blinking the tears back.
“Gran, that was offside, even for you,” Arthur says quietly. “You should apologize.”
“And you should not make a habit of telling me what to do,” Gran answers.
An uncomfortable silence fills the limo as we cross the river to the city. In a few minutes, we’ll reach the church, where I’ll be repeatedly asked if I've seen the article and told how the resemblance between my mother and I is absolutely uncanny—spooky even. They’ll stare at me, leaning in with wide eyes and shaking their heads in disbelief. “I’ve never noticed.” “Oh, I have. I’ve always thought she looks exactly like her mother.” Perhaps I should get my own booth at a freak show.
“Arthur's man crush is going to be at the wedding today,” Tessa says suddenly. She’s clearly trying to brighten the mood in the car by embarrassing my brother. I love her for it, but I’m not up for making fun of him today.
“I don't have a crush on him,” he says. “I merely enjoy watching his show.”
“It's a man crush, dear. Deal with it.” Turning to me, she says, “Have you seen The Wild World with Will Banks?”
I shake my head.
“Oh, you’d love it. Will is like David Attenborough meets Chris Pratt from Jurassic World, except picture him with his body from Guardians of the Galaxy.”
Arthur scoffs. “If anyone in this limo has a crush on Will Banks, I'd say it's my wife.”
“I’m just painting an accurate picture for Arabella. Besides, I'm not the one who is going to make a beeline for him the moment the ceremony ends—unlike you,” Tessa says, giving Arthur a teasing smile. She snaps her fingers together suddenly and says, “Oh! You should take Arabella with you so she can meet him.”
Turning to me, she whispers, “He's a total hottie.”
“Yes, well, as much of a hottie as he is, I don't see a future between someone like him and my sister, thank you very much,” Arthur says.
“Who said anything about a future?” Tessa asks. “I just think she could use a good shag to cheer her up.”
Arthur stiffens visibly. “Perhaps I should ride up front so as to skip out on the horrifying girl talk.”
“Oh, suck it up, Princess,” Gran says to him. “Your sister is an adult who can shag whomever she wants.”
“I doubt he'd want to shag someone as unremarkable as me,” I grumble, giving Gran a glare.
“Oh, Christ, you're not going to pout all day, are you?” she asks. “Because if so, I really will call one of my many man friends and offer him the position of my date.”
“Go ahead. I'd rather be alone than stuck with someone who feels the need to pile on when I'm already having a shit day.”
We pull up in front of the church, and a moment later, the back door opens. Tessa gives Arthur the ‘they need to talk’ face and gestures toward the door with her head.
Clearing his throat, Arthur says, “We’ll see you inside.”
When they get out, I hear Arthur tell his driver, Ben, to close the door and that we'll need a minute.
When Gran and I are alone, she scooches closer to me on the cream-colored leather bench. Taking my hand in hers, she says, “You are Arabella Florence…a bunch of names I can’t remember, Duchess of Bainbridge, Princess of Avonia. You are a sensitive, kind, beautiful, and intelligent young woman. But you're also a total pussy—”
My mouth drops open and she holds up one hand to stop me from interrupting. “—which is not entirely your fault. It's a bit of a vicious circle because people have always treated you like you’re made of porcelain, so that is how you act. Yes, half of your genes are from your mother who was as weak as a kitten, but half are from your father. And that means you have more than a little bit of me in you. And I’m tough as balls.”
I chuckle in spite of myself.
“And I know that deep, deep, deep, deep down inside of you is a very strong woman just dying to come out.”
“I don't know if that's true,” I say, shaking my head.
“You won't know until you test it out. So, my advice is for you to take a risk. Anything at all. The next big thing that comes your way. Don’t think about it. Just do it. Give them something more to write about than your good looks.”
“Like what?”
“Doesn’t matter, really. Just pick something wild and go for it.”
“I can’t … what if I'm a disaster?”
“Then you'll be Arabella the disaster, which in my books is far better than Arabella the clone. Be bold, child.” She stares deep into my eyes, then shrugs. “Or continue to be a timid, cowardly girl. Just pick one and stick with it. And whatever you do, stop complaining, because if there's one thing that can't be tolerated in this world, it's a princess who feels sorry for herself.”
With that, she knocks on the window. The door opens and Ben helps her out, leaving me there to marinate in her bitter medicine.
Double-Fisting Booze and Mystery Beauties
Will
I am never going to do this, as long as I live. That is a guarantee you can take to the bank, too, because after being part of my sister's wedding fiasco, I can say with certainty it's not worth it. It’s been a steady stream of dinners, cocktail parties, ‘pre-wedding gift openings,’ tux fittings, and don’t even get me started on the dress rehearsal last night.
Today, I’m wearing a horribly restrictive rented monkey suit. It’s got these stupid tails on the jacket and I feel like a complete idiot with this ridiculous top hat on. I'm standing at the front of the church as the fourth groomsman, along with Pierce's best man, who is also his editor, and his brothers, Leo (a great guy), and Grayson (a total wanker). Harrison isn't one of the groomsmen but that's only because Emma has asked him to walk her down the aisle.
The truth is, a big wedding like this only makes the three of us more keenly aware of the loss of our parents, and I know that part of Emma's sour mood has been the absence of our loving mum and dad to see her through what is likely the most stressful time of her life.
Harrison has had his own troubles to deal with since we got here. Their daughter Clara has a wicked cold and I'm not sure how familiar you are with toddlers, but it turns out they do not know how to wipe their noses (or even have any awareness that they have number elevens hanging from their tiny noses to their top lips). Also, this church is the exact one at which Libby was jilted a few years ago, so even though Libby is most certainly madly in love with my brother, the building itself does hold some rather humiliating memories for her. And since, as Emma's maid of honor, she's trying to take all the strain off the bride’s shoulders today, she’s more on edge than I’ve ever seen her. Libby also has the strange affliction of suffering from stress nosebleeds. When I left the vestibule a few minutes ago, she was well into her second box of tissues.