The Wrong Bride (The Windsors, #1)(5)

“I can’t believe my little girl is going to be someone’s wife soon,” Mom murmurs as she rearranges the flowers in the replica of the vineyard Ares and Hannah will be getting married in. “When your sister was little, I wasn’t sure she’d even live long enough to fall in love. There were so many things I never thought she’d experience, yet here she is, an international superstar, about to marry one of the most eligible billionaires in the world. In the process, she’s taking care of both Dad and me too, allowing us to retire at last, knowing our company is in safe hands.”

Guilt and unease settle in my stomach. I shouldn’t envy my sister, and I shouldn’t begrudge her the pride in Mom’s eyes. I just wish that sometimes, those same affections were directed at me.

“She’ll make for a beautiful bride,” I reassure Mom.

Mom looks up, a hint of worry in her expression. “How is the wedding dress coming along? Were you able to make the alterations Hannah requested?”

I nod. Each time she’s postponed the wedding, she’s changed almost everything about the wedding itself and her wedding dress, resulting in countless extra weeks of working on her gown. “Of course.”

Mom hesitates. “It’s nice that she asked you to make her dress for her. It’s such a nice way to include you. I thought for sure that she’d have wanted a famous brand instead, but I suppose this’ll help you gain traction. Once the world sees Hannah in one of your dresses, all her celebrity friends will follow suit. She’s a trendsetter like that.”

I bite down on my lip. “I’ve won several fashion awards, Mom. I’ve had a two-year waiting list for any of my couture wedding gowns ever since I launched my first line, and that list has only gotten longer since Alanna Sinclair got married in one of my gowns. My fashion brand is well-established and no less prestigious than some of the older brands out there.”

Mom looks at me with a placating expression that instantly grates on me. “Oh, of course,” she says, nodding. Then she grabs one of the wedding invites and holds it up. “Anyway, we need to make sure these are hand delivered three days before the wedding. Everything about this wedding must be secretive. If the paparazzi show up, it’ll ruin Hannah’s day. Why don’t you double check that everything is well with the courier we booked?”

I sigh and rise to my feet. “Sure,” I tell her, grabbing my handbag. “I’ll do it tomorrow.”

Mom looks up at me and frowns. “You aren’t staying for dinner?”

“No. I’m shooting early tomorrow.”

Mom nods. “Oh, good. Don’t want to look too fat in your maid of honor dress either.”

My heart aches as I turn my back to my mother and walk away. Every time I see Mom, I feel like a horrible person, and I end up hating myself. I should be happy for Hannah, and I should feel honored that I’m being included in the wedding to this extent… but I hate it. I hate the person I become when I’m at home. I’m never this desperate for attention or acknowledgement, and though it hurts me to see her with Ares, I’ve never resented her for having his love. Yet each time I’m at home, my head fills with horrible thoughts.

What if the one Ares was marrying was me?

What if I never took her to Sierra’s birthday party?

What if I refused to help with the wedding?

What if I made a move on Ares and stole him away?

I’m better than this, but each time I come home, I turn into the most pathetic version of myself.

“Sweetheart?”

I look up at my father, and he sighs knowingly. “Let me walk you out, sweet girl.”

I nod and take the arm my dad is offering me. We’re both quiet as he walks me to the sports car that Ares helped me pick out.

Dad opens the door for me and hesitates. “I love you, Raven,” he says. “Your mother does too, but she just isn’t as good at conveying that.”

I bite down on my lip for a moment. “She has no problem conveying her love for Hannah.”

Dad reaches for my hair and pushes it behind my ear gently. “I know,” he murmurs. “Mom feels the need to be so vocal about it because of how rough Hannah had it when she was young. Your mother thinks that she can make up for all the pain Hannah endured when she was sick by showering her with love now. It’s more for her than it is for Hannah, and it doesn’t mean that she doesn’t love you just as much.”

I nod, unwilling to discuss this any further. I don’t want Dad to pity me, or to reassure me because he feels he should. For a change, I don’t want to be comforted with lies.

I rise to my tiptoes and press a kiss to my father’s cheek. “Love you, Dad.”

“You drive safe, okay? Send me a text message when you get home. I know how to use those emotions things now. I’ll send you a thumbs up back.”

“Emojis?” I ask, giggling.

“That’s the ones.”

“Good for you, Dad. I’ll send you an emoji in the shape of a house when I get home, okay?”

“It’ll be our secret language.” He winks at me, and I just about manage to keep from laughing as I step into the car.

This. This is why I keep coming home, despite my mother’s attitude. Because Dad is right. Deep down, they do love me. Maybe not as much as they love Hannah, but I learned long ago to be okay with that.