My Big Fat Fake Wedding(86)

“Of course, Violet. Good to see you again, Archie. Please, do show me about.”

We move around the room, discussing details and highlighting features. I show how the room can be arranged in a multitude of ways for different events and moods, from formal to more intimate.

True to Arch’s call, Mrs. Montgomery’s face barely moves as she nods along with my presentation. But when I’m done, she offers warm praise. “Well done. I like the functionality as well as the finery. So, the formal dining is next?”

I nod. “Yes, ma’am. As we discussed, I’m out of town next week for my honeymoon, but we’ve already taken measurements and discussed what you’d like for the space. As soon as I return, we’ll begin the first phase.”

Mrs. Montgomery turns to me, a sparkle in her eyes I haven’t seen before. “Oh, yes, you are marrying Ross Andrews this weekend, aren’t you?” She’s intentionally trying to make it seem like a small, forgettable thing but failing spectacularly. “Mind a little advice from an old lady?”

I respond the way I’m expected to. “Oh, Mrs. Montgomery, you’re not the least bit old. Why, you don’t look a day over fifty!” Lies, lies, lies. But she pats her white, coiffed hair proudly.

“Thank you. Even so, I have some experience with marrying well, dear.” She lowers her voice. “Read the prenuptial agreement, every single word, and have a lawyer read over it too. Do not walk down that aisle without doing that. Take it from me.” She gestures around her, and I wonder how it is that a widowed Mrs. Montgomery came to live in this large house. I’d never even thought about it, but now, I do.

“Thank you for the advice. I’ll definitely take it under advisement,” I say politely. “Archie will work with your house manager to schedule our appointments for the dining room after I get back.”

“That sounds lovely, dear,” she says as she shakes my hand. She offers a cheek to Archie, and he presses his to hers, both of them making an air kissing sound. “Don’t be a stranger, Archie.”

Outside, I give him an incredulous look as we get in the car. “Are you two BFFs now?”

He points a finger at me. “Don’t you dare say a word. We actually have a few things in common.”

“Such as?” I say, not able to think of a single thing Archie, a twenty-something, sarcastic, gay punk rocker might have in common with Lydia Montgomery, a seventy-something, old-school wealthy socialite.

He mumbles the answer, but I hear him clearly. “Real Housewives of Monte Carlo.”

I laugh a bit too hard at that, and before Archie can complain, I roll the windows down and shut my mouth, trying not to breathe too much.





Chapter 21





Ross—Friday—1 Day Until the Wedding





I don’t think either of us imagined, in our happiest dreams or our scariest nightmares, that our wedding would be like this.

But today, the eve of our wedding is putting any hopes we’d had of a simple ceremony firmly to rest. Not just six feet under, but more like oceans under.

All of Violet’s family is in town now, people who haven’t seen her since she was knee-high and whom she doesn’t even remember. I’ve lost track of names because there are just so many of them.

And now, we’ve completely filled up Papa and Nana’s house for a get-to-know-you lunch. I feel like a bug under a microscope as they circle me, patting my back, shaking my hand, and pulling me in for wet kisses to my cheeks as they exclaim in Italian. They might be saying kind things, or they might be discussing how a beauty like Violet could do so much better than a schmuck like me. I’m not sure either way.

“Tell us about your work, Ross.”

“How many babies are you planning to have?”

“How soon for the babies?”

“Do you know how lucky you are to catch a woman like Violet?”

“If you hurt her, I will kill you so badly, the polizia will never find your body.”

That last one had been said straight-faced and seriously in broken English by a big, beefy wall of a man whose name, I think, is Rafael. I won’t dare call him that in case it’s wrong, though, because I’m not willing to risk inciting his anger or violence.

It’s nice that they’re protective of Violet, but they don’t need to worry about me. I have no intention of hurting her.

I excuse myself from the group surrounding me and go in search of my bride. I find her in the kitchen, holding an olive in her hand. She’s killing me with this egg diet. I want to just feed her and worship her curves. But she’s holding strong and seems confident that her fitting with Weston will go fine later this afternoon. I know the olive is just a cover because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that her family will feed you at every opportunity or create one just so that they can spoil you.

I step to her side, sliding my hands around her waist, and eat the olive from her fingers. “For me?”

She smiles and whispers as she leans into me. “Thank you. Nana and Sofia keep trying to get me to taste everything. I finally had to say the olives made everything taste salty, and that got them arguing about how much salt to add to the marinara again.”

I laugh. “Evil woman, making them fight just so they’ll leave you alone.” She shrugs and I press a soft kiss to her cheek.