It's a Fugly Life (Fugly #2)(55)

I stood up, trying to keep my head on straight.

“Oh, baby. You look beautiful in that dress.” My father’s eyes began to tear. I wore my mother’s wedding gown. She and I were the same size—or more accurately stated—she’d been my size when she got married. She’d had to let the hem out a little because I was an inch taller than her, but that had been it.

“Thanks, Dad.” I kept my fake as hell smile stuck to my face, and I didn’t plan to let it go.

“Oh, honey, stop that. You’ll make her cry,” my mother warned and then looked at me. “Okay, Lily. See you at the church. Careful not to forget your bouquet and don’t wrinkle the dress.” She leaned forward and kissed my cheek. “Oh. And don’t forget to pause for the photographer when you come inside the church.”

My stomach turned to cement. Ugh. Photographers. I knew my mother had referred to the one we’d hired for the event, but I knew there’d be more, thanks to her “tight-lipped” friends.

“Got it.” I flashed a smile her way and took one last look at myself in the mirror. My brown eyes were a little puffy, but other than that, I looked flawless. I’d done an almost perfect job covering my scars and my long hair was pulled back into an elegant, smooth bun so I wouldn’t have to fuss with my long hair today. I’d leave the hair fussing to Max. Tonight. In bed.

During the short ride in the back of the white stretch limo to the church, my father became unusually quiet.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“Of course.”

“Then why do you look like you’re going to a funeral?”

He patted my hand. “Someday, your child will grow up, make you crazy with worry, make you proud, and then you’ll be watching them get married. It all happens so fast.”

“Do you regret any of it?”

“Only having children.” He cracked a smile.

“Funny.”

“I regret not enjoying it more. We spent so much time concerning ourselves with you and your brother that we often forgot about our own happiness.”

“So you weren’t happy?”

“I was. I am. Thanks to your mother, because I always knew no matter what, she would be there by my side. Even through the worst of it.”

I tried to imagine the things they’d gone through raising the two of us. A son who would never walk and a daughter who made people stare.

“Well, you did a great job.” I petted the top of my bouquet—one white lily surrounded by baby’s breath, wrapped up in pink satin ribbon. “I’m talking about me, of course. John is an idiot, but there’s nothing to be done about that.” I cracked a smile.

My father laughed. “Well, looks like we’re here. You ready, honey?”

“Ready.” I felt calm and comforted by my little chat with my father. It made me realize this was only the beginning of a long road ahead for Max and me. But together, we just might get through anything.

I scooted forward on the seat, and my dad reached for the door. A few news crews approached, but I’d been expecting them.

“Go ahead. It’s okay,” I assured my father. He was no fan of these people whatsoever.

The limo driver opened the door, and my father got out. He held out his hand, and I took it, carefully extracting myself so I wouldn’t catch the veil or dress on anything.

Once outside, the news crews crowded us, lobbing their questions. Not wanting to see them or ever look back on this day and remember them, I looked at my father and focused on his glowingly proud eyes. Nothing else mattered. Not even the crowd of onlookers who’d gathered across the street.

Almost to the open double doors, I spotted our photographer waiting, crouched a few yards inside, kneeling in the aisle.

I did it. I made it. Easy sailing from here. I glanced down and noticed my empty hands. Crap. “I forgot my bouquet. Be right back.” I turned and scurried back to the limo parked curbside and grabbed my bouquet from the seat inside.

Halfway back to the church door, another news crew rushed me.

Fuck, no. Not these guys. They were the same *s who’d shown up at my apartment when Max and Patricio had gotten into a fight. They were one of those TMZ type programs, only they lacked any morality whatsoever—spying on people through windows, reporting any rumor they heard regardless of the damage they caused. These guys were vermin.

“Lily! Lily! Have you seen the photos yet, Lily?” the scumbag yelled. “How do you feel about your fiancé having an affair with Adeline Taylor?”

I gave the man a disgusted look. What an *. Seriously, what kind of person runs up to a bride and asks about her groom’s exes? I kept on walking.

“Are you going through with the wedding? Did you know he spent the night at her hotel last night and didn’t leave until ten this morning? Have you seen the photos of the two of them kissing at the Blue Electric last night?”

His words stopped me in my tracks, and my shock only encouraged them. The Blue Electric was the club Max had been at last night for his bachelor party.

No, no, no. What did he just f*cking say? I stared at the ass-faced reporter standing in front of me with a sadistic smirk on his lips as his crew filmed my reaction. They hoped I’d cry for the entire world, didn’t they?

Maybe I would.

“Tell me, Lily, how does it feel?” He urged the cameraman closer and shoved the microphone an inch from my face. “How does it feel to know your fiancé cheated on you last night, the night before your wedding?”