“But a pick at that,” The Beave chimes in. “And since we will have over three thousand attendees, going with the most common flavor will obviously be the most beneficial choice.”
“Three thousand?” Lia asks, looking at The Beave, then Brian. “I thought we cut that list down.”
“We were going to,” Brian says, “but I spoke with Mother last night, and we think it’s best not to insult anyone.” Except your damn fiancée.
“Not insult anyone?” I step in. “How do you even know three thousand people? That seems absurd to me.”
“Well, good thing it’s not your wedding,” Brian shoots back. “Maybe when you’re finally able to get someone to fall in love with you and walk down the aisle instead of creeping on other men’s girls, you can choose how many people attend the wedding.”
“Hey,” Lia says. “Brian, he’s not creeping on anyone.”
“Now, now,” The Beave says, trying to talk us down, but my hands are clenching into fists under the table.
Where the fuck does this guy get off?
He doesn’t even know her favorite cake flavor, and he thinks he can mouth off to me?
Before I can respond, The Beave cuts in, “Brian and I had a long conversation about the wedding planning that I frankly thought was getting out of hand, and we agreed on some things last night.”
“How the hell could you have a conversation without Lia?” I ask, my anger rolling back my politeness.
“Pardon me?” The Beave asks. “Mr. Cane, it would do you a service not to swear at me.”
Yeah, I’m not taking this bullshit today.
“Mrs. Beaver, it would do you a service to treat Lia with some respect. In case you’ve forgotten, my brothers and I own this city, this state, this country, so unless you want your reputation to completely and utterly tank, you will tell Lia exactly why the plans you’ve already made are not satisfactory.”
From the corner of my eye, I spot Lia’s silent gape as she turns toward me.
I’m not fucking around today. Not after what Lia told me about Brian. Not after what I said to her last night.
Enough is enough. They aren’t going to push around my girl, not for one more goddamn second.
“Where do you get off threatening my mother like that?” Brian asks, his hands gripping the edge of the table as if he’s about to flip it.
The Beave pats his arm. “Relax, darling, I can handle this.”
Poised and calm, The Beave presses her hands together and says, “As you are aware, this union was not my first choice for Brian—”
“What do you mean?” Lia asks, her eyes falling on Brian.
“Mother, that’s not true. You like Lia.”
“I do. I think you are a lovely girl, but if I had my way, Brian would marry someone with status, and unfortunately, that’s not the case here. And therefore, I am paying for a wedding that reflects our status, even though he’s marrying you. That is why we switched back to the church, took out the daisies, and invited the people we originally wanted to invite.”
Wow.
She can’t be fucking serious.
How can someone with an ounce of a conscience go behind a bride’s back and change everything about her wedding that she agreed upon?
I glance at Brian, waiting for him to say something, to stand up for Lia, but instead, he just sits there like the pitiful, pathetic man he is.
Looks like I’m going to have to stand up for her, prove to her that I’m the man she can rely on. I’m the man who deserves her hand. I’m the fucking man who can and WILL make her happy.
I go to open my mouth with a retaliation when Lia turns to Brian and says, “You allowed her to do that? It’s one thing to just sit there and allow her to insult me to my face about how I’m not the pedigree of woman she would prefer for you to marry, but to have a conversation with her last night, after we fought, and let her change everything about our wedding? Did you do that out of spite?”
“Okay, here are the samples,” the baker says, setting a tray in front of us, clearly not sensing the strained tension at the table as her assistant passes around the champagne. “We have as requested, the vanilla bean cake with vanilla frosting, the vanilla bean cake with chocolate frosting. The chocolate fudge cake with vanilla frosting, and the chocolate cake with chocolate frosting.” She sets some forks down and says, “Enjoy,” before she takes off again.
When the baker is out of earshot, Brian says, “I didn’t do anything out of spite. My mother was consoling me after our fight, and we discussed how the wedding was stressing you and that we should just let Mother do the planning.”