My Big Fat Fake Wedding(107)

I can see people looking to one another uncomfortably. They certainly didn’t push me to do what I did, exactly—that’s all on me—but they did put pressure on me.

“So that’s the ‘why’ from me about why I did this.” I intentionally don’t say that we got married as a farce because I’m doing my damnedest to be as honest as I can be. “As for Ms. Russo? She had much more honorable reasons. Again, the media is painting her as everything from a gold-digger to a scam artist. She is none of those things. She is a kind, beautiful soul who wanted only one thing out of all of this. She wanted to give her dying grandfather a final memory, a thank you for everything he sacrificed to raise her. She wanted to give him the opportunity to walk her down the aisle and give her away in a fairy tale wedding before he meets his maker.”

“That’s it. Nothing in her mind ever thought of money, or social climbing, or scamming anyone or anything. She did what she did because she loves her grandfather with all her heart.”

“And now, as Stefano Russo lies in a hospital bed, possibly dying due to our actions, I can only pray that he forgives us.”

“But as Violet’s scream pierced the chaos of our reception and I saw what we’d done to Stefano Russo, I realized the truth. Anyone who’s willing to engage in such a sham to appease a group of shareholders, who was willing to lie to his own family and more, is not ready to lead this company.”

There are gasps and murmurs through the room at the confession. This is something I’ve been groomed for since birth, and I’m admitting to an inadequacy in front of the whole world.

“So I’ve thought, and as I thought, I realized that there is an Andrews ready to lead this company when my father decides to step down many years from now. She stands at his shoulder every day at work and puts up with . . . well, more than I could. She’s smart, she’s capable, and she’s the true next generation of leadership for this company. Of course, I’m talking about my sister, Courtney Andrews.”

I look over to where she sits at Dad’s side. Her jaw drops open for a split second before she composes herself and smiles politely, dipping her chin at the people who look her way. See? She’s already ready for this—professional, strategic, thoughtful, analytical. With several more years at Dad’s side and his admittedly excellent mentorship, she’ll be a fantastic leader.

“As for me . . . well, in all honesty, as I wrote this speech, a lightness came to my heart. Because I realize that there’s something more important to me.” I don’t say her name, but it’s readily apparent who, not what, I’m talking about. Dad blinks rapidly a few times before his eyes narrow as his lips twitch. I wonder what Mom’s told him about my conversation with her. Does he know that he was right, after all? That his ‘suggestion’ that I settle down might have gone so shockingly wrong, but also so amazingly right?

“So effective immediately, I’m resigning from both the board of this company and as a vice president. I thank all of you for your years working with me and wish this company success in all its future endeavors. I am looking forward to setting out on my own and directing my own future where I see fit.”

Without taking any questions from the board, most of whom look more than a little shocked, I walk out and go back to my office. I’m surprised to see Abi in my seat, her feet up on the wood and her lips pursed.

“Falling on your sword?” Abi asks, taking her feet down. “Didn’t think that was your style.”

“Guess you watched it, huh?” I reply, sitting down on the couch Violet ordered. She was right, of course. Even unfinished, the casual seating area does make my office feel more welcoming. Too bad it’s coming right as I’m leaving. “What’d you think?”

She shrugs evasively and gets up to pour two glasses of scotch. She hands one over and sits down beside me. “It’s eleven o’clock in the morning, Abs. A little early for scotch, don’t you think?” Even as I argue, I take a small sip and swirl the liquid, looking for answers in its amber depths.

She takes a sip too, though she winces, and I remember that she’s not much of a drinker to start with, so straight scotch has got to be downright disgusting to her. She’s doing it for me.

“It’s to celebrate,” she says, lifting the glass to clink with mine. She looks for someplace to set the drink down. “You need a table.”

I huff. “Violet ordered one. I think it’ll be here next week, not that it matters. Celebrate what?”

She side-eyes me. “You finally stood up to Dad. It’s about damn time.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Abs? I argue with Dad all the time. It’s literally what we do most here, lately. I’m just taking my ball and leaving the playground.” I shake my head, sure I’m doing the right thing by leaving the company but in shock that I actually did it.

“God, you are so blind sometimes. Please promise me that you won’t go open some hot-shot venture capital day trading multi-marketing pyramid scheme. You’re not cut out for it.” She rolls her eyes, and forgetting, takes another sip of scotch. She hisses out loud this time.

I don’t have a chance to argue because Courtney pops into the doorway. “Celebrating or commiserating?” she asks, lifting her chin toward our drinks.

“I’m not sure,” I say honestly.