Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
I’m still trying to get my head around the idea that we need a wedding planner when Helen opens the binder and begins pointing to things and giving me a running commentary of the contents.
I peer down at the images in a daze. Wow! She has been planning this for a very, very long time.
“Locations. You can choose from a cathedral wedding or a location wedding. We would be more than happy to host the wedding at our house, which I think would be a nice touch as it’s Finn’s childhood home. Or of course, there’s Melbourne Hall.”
I definitely don’t want to get married in a cathedral, or somewhere as fancy as Melbourne Hall. I get the impression Helen wants me to choose her home anyway, but it feels wrong. If Finn gets married there, it should be to someone he has a future with.
Helen doesn’t wait for me to offer up any comment before she flicks over the page. “I’ve scheduled you an appointment at a bridal boutique so you can choose your dress and of course your bridesmaid’s dresses. How many would you like? I think four is appropriate as Finn will be having four groomsmen.”
“Helen, may I say something?”
“Of course.” She looks at me expectantly.
“Well, it’s just… isn’t this all a bit elaborate for a fake wedding?”
“Young lady, I am going along with this to make Finn happy, so he can have what he wants. That doesn’t mean I am going to allow the two of you to make a mockery of me among my friends. Which means your wedding will be every bit as grand as it would be if this was all real.” She pauses, her face scornful. “Do you have a problem with that?”
I have a million problems with it, but I find that I don’t want to voice them. I’m doing this for the kids. Finn is doing it for his company. And she is doing it to keep her status.
Slowly, I shake my head.
“Good.”
“Who will pay for all this?” I ask, biting my bottom lip. There’s no way I will be asking my parents to chip in.
“Is that what you’re worried about?” She sniffs. “You can stop worrying. I made my expectations clear in terms of what you will and won’t get from my son, but I don’t expect your family to pay for this wedding. I appreciate that it’s me insisting on this, so it’s anything other than a quickie Justice of the Peace job as Finn so charmingly put it. So please, just enjoy being a fairytale bride and let me take care of the finances.”
I open my mouth, not sure what I’m even supposed to say to this. I hope she’s not expecting me to thank her, but I have a horrible feeling that’s exactly what she’s expecting.
The waiter saves me from saying the wrong thing as he appears with a bottle of champagne in a silver bucket. He pops it open and pours our glasses.
Once he is gone, she raises her glass towards both Finn and I. “To all our happiness.”
I smile and so does Finn.
For a moment, we are all connected in a lie we have been forced into. We all take a sip. Then Helen turns to Finn. “You don’t mind, Finn, if I talk to Ashley for a bit, do you?”
“Be my guest,” he invites putting the glass down.
Helen turns back to me, the awkwardness from before the waiter arrived seemingly forgotten and launches back into her folder. “Your cake will be made by Anton’s Bakery, one of the nicest in the city. He’s made wedding cakes for royalty, you know. You will have a meeting with him to choose your flavors and decorations. Perhaps nothing too modern though, huh? Think elegant dear – less is always more.” Her eyes slip down along my legs to my shoes.
Ah, the bows. She doesn’t like the bows. Tough. I like them.
I nod in agreement. She has a very clear idea in her mind of how she wants this wedding to go. It is at the tip of my tongue to suggest she do whatever she wants and lets me know where I have to be and when, but I resist the urge. I kind of get the impression she genuinely believes she’s being nice doing this, and while I can’t quite get my head around that, I don’t want to throw her kindness back in her face.
She pushes her book of weddings towards me.
I flick through the pages. It has options for catering, options for reception venues, suit hire, flowers, wedding favors, centerpieces, bands, officiants, witnesses, vows and poetry for the ceremony, and a hundred other things that just leave my head spinning.
I feel grateful when the first course has arrived.
“Bon appétit,” she coos, before delicately slipping between her pale lips the smallest piece of foie gras I have ever seen.