Craving The Player (Amateurs In Love Book 1)(74)
She dropped me off at my grandmother’s that night and I didn’t see her again for two years. It was two years that I spent confused, hurt, and worried. I didn’t know where she was, or who she was with. Dad would let me know that she was alive and well every few weeks, saying that he had talked to her and that she was fine.
I was seventeen when my mother came back from a two year trip trekking across Europe with Antonio, her new fiancé. It turned out that they met in Italy, at some hole in the wall bistro or something like that. He was visiting his family for a few months, and as my mother would say, the rest is history. It took me years to forgive her for leaving, too betrayed to hear her out.
And it wasn’t until I saw how easy it was for my mom to move on and be happy once the chains of marriage were broken that I promised myself that I wouldn’t make my parents' mistakes. That I wouldn’t marry someone just to lose them a few years down the road.
I don’t need a piece of fucking paper to tell me that I’m going to spend the rest of my life with someone. That’s not how it works.
I have no idea why my dad wants to get married again, let alone throw another huge party. But I’ve tried not to spend much time thinking about it. If he wants to keep making the same mistakes, then who am I to stop him?
It’s Sierra that brings me out of my head, her voice putting me at ease. “This really is beautiful. Did they plan it themselves?”
I turn in my seat until our knees brush. Her eyes are already waiting for mine. I reach over and place my hand on her thigh, squeezing the bare skin over her knee where the dress has ridden up. Toying with the hem, I smile, happy to have her with me. Fuck, she’s a sight for sore eyes. All warm, pink cheeks and bright eyes that hold the power to consume me with a single look.
“I can only assume that Lana hired someone to do the work. She seems like the type,” I mumble and pull my attention to the tacky vase placed on the center of our table. The number of frilly, pale-pink flowers peeking out of the top makes me cringe. Talk about overkill.
“Braden,” Sierra scolds, placing her palm on top of the hand I have wrapped around her leg in what seems like an attempt to pull me back. “I’m sure if she did hire someone that it was for a reason. Some people need help planning something as big as a wedding. If this is just the reception, I can’t imagine how beautiful the ceremony must have been.”
It was definitely something. “You’re lucky that you weren’t there. I almost fell asleep at the altar.”
Huffing, Sierra removes her hand from mine and wraps it around her wine glass instead. “You’re helpless.”
“Weddings aren’t my thing, babe. I’m not going to apologise for it.”
“You don’t have to apologize. But you don’t need to be a dick either,” she scoffs before taking a sip—or more like a gulp—from the crimson liquid in her glass. “I actually happen to love weddings. A wedding is supposed to be one of the best days of your life,” she sighs, the faint ghost of a smile on her lips.
I sling my arm around the back of her chair and lean in so my mouth brushes her ear. “Let me guess, you’ve been planning yours since you were a little girl? Did you used to dress up in one of your mom’s dresses and pretend you were a bride?” I meant for it to be a joke, but I sound more mocking than I intended to, and when hurt flashes across her face, I know that she caught it too.
Her smile falls and she begins looking around the room to avoid looking at me. Guilt falls like a rock in my gut. “If you don’t like weddings that’s fine, but don’t be a prick to everybody who does. This day isn’t about you and your arrogance, it’s about your dad and his new wife,” she replies after a few seconds, her words muttered low enough to only be heard by the two of us and not the entire table. Thank God for that. Gracie is already pinning with me a glare that has my blood cooling.
Suddenly, a hand is placed on my left shoulder, causing me to flinch in surprise. With an uncomfortable cough, I turn to see my mom, her attention glued onto the annoyed woman beside me.
“We didn’t know that you were here yet, Braden. And with a guest at that,” she half-scolds. If it weren’t for the slight smirk on her lips, I would have assumed that I was about to receive a lecture.
Sierra jerks beside me as she takes in the woman beside me before introducing herself. “You must be Braden’s mother. I could recognize those timeless cheekbones anywhere. I’m Sierra.” She extends her hand confidently as she slips into business mode.
I register her compliment and smirk. So, she thinks I have timeless cheek bones, eh? Can’t wait to tease her about that later.
Mom’s eyes widen for a split second, a clear response to Sierra’s outgoing, genuine gesture as her grip on my shoulder tightens ever so slightly and her other hand grabs Sierra’s.
She’s happy with the compliment, although I’m not sure why she’s surprised by it. My mom’s features really haven’t aged over the years. She isn’t old by any means, but she definitely doesn’t look fifty. I don’t think that she’s ever even found a gray hair among all of the chestnut brown.
“Please, call me Tia.” She grins. “I can’t say that I have ever had one of Braden’s girlfriends make me blush so easily. Thank you, Sierra. You are just lovely.”
When Sierra’s cheeks darken to match Mom’s, I step in with a chuckle. “Okay, I get it. Sierra’s special. How about we not scare her away.”