“Do you think,” I said as I took a sip of beer and then handed it off for him to hold. “Here, hold this.” I belted myself in. When I was done, I took my coffee cup back. “Do you think that tonight’s going to go bad? Or am I just overthinking things?”
Murphy started to back out of the spot I’d pulled into and then accelerated much too fast down the road for my liking before he answered.
“I think that your stepmother is a selfish creature,” he began. “And I think that, if given the opportunity, she’ll cause a scene because she just can’t help herself. The only thing that would stop her from being selfish is her own daughter’s wedding, and even then, I’m not sure that she could help herself the entire night. So yes, I do think she’ll do something that’ll piss everyone off. Ultimately, I think you’re right for worrying.”
I was glad it wasn’t just me.
“Why do you think my dad married her?” I asked curiously before taking a sip of my beer.
It tasted weird after not having any alcohol in so long.
Beer had never been my favorite, but right then, it really tasted bitter.
“I think your dad saw tits and ass and a woman that would give him something he’d been missing since your mother’s death,” he said. “He saw convenience, an instant mother to his children, and opportunity.”
“Do you wish that you’d told him not to do it? Not get married to her?” I asked.
I wished that all the damn time. I wished that I’d asked my dad not to marry her. I wished that I’d spoken up and told him not to do it.
But, at the time, I hadn’t realized how majorly my life was going to change.
I’d been too wrapped up in myself, didn’t think about the consequences of my father getting married until it was already a done deal.
“I wish that he’d seen what he was marrying, yes.” He paused. “But I wouldn’t have told him not to do it. Not when it brought us closer together. I’m a selfish old man, and I like that he kicked you to the curb. I like that he showed his true colors. I like that you’re here, with me, and that you’re not there with him. Because then I would’ve never gotten to see you.”
He was right.
When Murphy had gone to prison, my father had pretty much disowned him.
Still, to this day, they didn’t talk much to each other because of things that I still wasn’t privy to.
Things that I’d asked about, and neither one of them would tell me.
Things that, after careful consideration over the last few years, I’d decided that I didn’t need to know about.
I took a sip of beer and then cringed when I saw the parking lot at the church where the event was being held.
There were so many people there already.
My soon to be sister-in-law, and my brother, were both very well known in the community. So that meant a shit ton of people were invited to their wedding.
Danny and Belinda spared no expense, and that had a lot to do with my dad’s wealth paying for things, and Belinda’s parents—who were well off as well—covering what my dad couldn’t or wouldn’t pick up.
Needless to say, there was going to be a lot of fancy-schmancy people at the wedding, and I wasn’t looking forward to it.
Luckily, I wasn’t in the wedding party.
So there were small miracles.
“Thank God for handicap parking,” Murphy said as he whipped into the parking lot and found a spot almost directly next to the front entrance.
I agreed.
“You meeting your date out here?” he asked curiously once he put the car into park.
I nodded my head. “I am.”
“Okay, well then I’m headed inside,” he said.
I chose to finish my beer in the car, then pulled out a stick of cinnamon gum to chew on as I got out of the car.
When I stood up outside, my feet wobbled, and I cursed the stupid black heels that I could barely walk in.
My sister had assured me, however, that they needed to be worn.
Which was fuckin’ awful because I would’ve been happier in ballet flats.
Especially if this night went like my brain thought it might.
“What’s that look for?”
I blinked, looking up to see my sister standing there.
“Uh,” I hesitated. “The heels. They’re already bothering me.”
She looked down at my heels, then back up at me. “You look great, though.”
I did look great.
The added running I’d been doing, paired with the killer dress that tucked, flattened, and lifted, made me look wonderful. Even I had to admit it.
The material was tight at the top, sucking everything in and pushing my breasts up to look almost perky. But then it flowed into a flowy skirt once it reached my hips, making it look all swishy and cute.
And with the added running, my legs were looking toned and tanned.
Yeah, I had to admit, they really did look good.
“I gotta go inside,” my sister said. “But seriously, they look great on you. The whole outfit looks wonderful. You’ll look awesome in the pictures later.”
Then she was gone, leaving me alone once again.
I sighed and looked over at the people that were making their way inside from the parking lot.
I was so lost in thought as I did that when my phone vibrated in my pocket—yes, the dress was even more awesome because it had pockets!—I jumped.
Pulling it out, I frowned hard when I saw Laric’s name on the screen.
“Son of a bitch,” I grumbled as I glared at the message.
Laric: shit came up. I’m sending a replacement. Forgive me.
Wonderful.
I had a feeling his ‘replacement’ was somebody I wasn’t going to like, or he would’ve told me who his supposed replacement was.
As it got closer and closer to the time for the wedding to start, the more nervous I became.
Laric’s replacement wasn’t there yet, and I had to get inside soon, or I would be noticed when I did come inside and try to sit next to Murphy who’d likely gotten a front row seat.
With one last look at my watch, I decided to head inside, and hope that Laric’s replacement would be able to find me.
Likely, he would.
Also, likely he…
A flash of white caught my eye, and I stilled.
My head tilted to the side, and I stared in utter fascination as my mother, father, and little sister came walking through the parking lot.
My back went ramrod straight, and I was moving before my brain even consciously processed what I was seeing.
Oh, fuck no.
My heels click-clacked against the concrete as I all but stomped toward them.
When I got close enough for them to hear me, they all turned and watched me come one by one but didn’t slow their pace.
My father caught my sister’s hand and tugged her closer, as if I was going to walk up and punch her in the face or something.
Like I would ever do that to my sister.
Now his wife…
“I seriously will punch you in the throat,” I said to my stepmother. “You are not going in here wearing that dress.”
She was wearing a white floor-length dress that was embroidered at the top with clear crystals. It had a plunging neckline that showed off her ten-thousand-dollar boob job, and white high heels to finish off the ensemble.