Stepbrother Billionaire(31)

“I’m Jillian. It’s nice to meet you,” Grandma says, offering her hand for Emerson to kiss. I watch, trying not to laugh, as he takes her hand and gives it a good solid shake instead.

“And here’s the man of the hour himself,” Grandpa says, looking up as Dad walks into the kitchen with the justice of the peace—a balding man with a cheerful red face.

“Are we starting soon?” Grandma asks, “The girls are playing bridge at three and I’d really prefer not to be late.”

“We’ll start as soon as Deb is ready,” Dad replies curtly. “I’m sure she’s just putting the finishing touches on—”

“I’m all set!” Deb sings out from the stairs.

We all turn to watch her grand entrance as she clatters down the last few steps and struts her stuff our way. I can practically hear my grandparents’ jaws crack against the tile floor as Deb meets us in the kitchen. Her rhinestone-encrusted heels must be five inches high, and fully visible beneath the micro minidress that’s serving as her wedding gown. A huge, flowing bustle trails along behind her, and her already voluminous blonde curls are stacked a mile high in a hairdo that would make the most seasoned pageant girl raise an eyebrow. Her makeup looks painted on, most especially her hot pink lipstick. She looks positively ecstatic...but not exactly the picture of the blushing bride we all had in mind—especially my grandparents.

“I can’t believe our wedding day is finally here!” she squeals, leaping into my dad’s arms. She kisses every inch of his face, leaving little smudges of pink all over. I’m a little concerned that my grandparents have literally turned to stone beside me. Dad manages to pry Deb off of him long enough to turn her Frank and Jillian’s way.

“Deb,” my dad says through a forced smile, “These are my parents.”

“Oh. My. God,” Deb breathes, splaying her hands out over her heart. “You are just about the fanciest people I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

“Yes. Well,” Grandma says, unable to form any additional words.

“That is...some dress you’ve got there,” Grandpa attempts.

“Dad,” my own father hisses warningly.

“Oh, you like it?” Deb chirps, giving us all a little spin. “I got in at forty percent off. Still a rip off, if you ask me, but heck—it’s a special occasion, right? And it’s not like Bob here is hurting for money.” My grandparents’ eyebrows shoot up, disappearing into their hair lines. Deb falters, looking back and forth between them. “I’m sorry. Was that tacky?”

“Ah, so you are familiar with the word, then,” Grandma says coolly.

I glance at Emerson, embarrassed by my grandparents’ icy behavior. But his face is totally unreadable—I have no idea if he’s even listening. Deb, not knowing what to do with my grandparents’ disdain, turns to Emerson and me with a tight grin.

“Now you two look so darling,” she sighs tearfully. “Our big happy family, at last.”

I catch grandpa rolling his eyes as the justice of the peace claps his hands.

“So!” the jolly official says, “Shall we head to the backyard for the ceremony?”

Deb grabs hold of my dad’s hand and yanks him out the back door. They’ve set up a flimsy white altar in front of the pool, which is filled with floating flower blossoms. Emerson walks out ahead of me, keeping his eyes straight ahead, and my grandparents bring up the rear. Deb’s heels sink into the grass as she teeters toward the altar on my dad’s arm. Emerson stands beside her, and I take my place next to Dad. The justice of the peace stands between them, and my grandparents move front and center, all but wrinkling their noses.

The wedding of the century, indeed.

I can’t make myself focus as the justice of the peace starts rattling through the motions. Emerson and I stand facing each other, looking over our parents’ shoulders. I’ve never seen him look so miserable. More than being upset for my own heartbreak, I hate our parents in this moment for causing Emerson so much pain. He’s been through so much already, and now this fiasco? It’s more than anyone should have to bear.

“OK then,” the justice of the peace goes on. “If we could have the rings...”

Emerson thrusts them into my dad’s hand. Our parents slip the gaudy trinkets onto each other’s hands, grinning like two teenagers. The words of their vows and even their “I do’s” fade into white noise as Emerson finally lifts his eyes to mine. We stare at each other, laid bare in this anguished moment. Our gazes say what we never got a chance to: “I care about you more than anything in this world. I’m so sorry you’re in pain.” And as our parents share their first kiss as man and wife, I try my best to tell Emerson one more thing with my silent, pleading eyes:

“I love you.”

And as I look on, my heart breaking, I could swear his blue eyes tell me, “I love you too.”





Chapter Ten





By midnight? the house is all but silent once more. Leftover food and cake clutters every surface of the kitchen, crushed petals stain the floors, and the plastic flowers on the rickety altar out back have started dropping off, one by one. Dad and Deb have flown the coop, off on the first leg of their honeymoon in New York City. Grandma and Grandpa beat a quick retreat after a bite of cake and three brandies each. The house, my home, feels like a crypt now. But I suppose that’s appropriate—I’m certainly in mourning.