Page 30 of Unhinged Love

Yes, because there’s nothing more miraculous than a veil with beads on it. How revolutionary. I can hear my teeth grind.

“Oh, I already ordered appetizers for the table,” she continues when a pair of servers walk our way. “Nothing too heavy. We girls have to be careful now that we’ve had our final fittings. And so do you boys,” she warns, shaking a playful finger my way.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I mutter with as much enthusiasm as I can manage, all things considered. Dad has no idea how much he’s asking of me, forcing me to sit through this. How can he be so blinded by her? How can he not see through her? She’s not even original or clever about how she drains him of his money. She’s not smart or sophisticated enough to be clever about it—or at least discreet.

“Have you gotten everything together for our honeymoon?” Dad asks, clearly hanging on her every word. He swears he’s happy. He says this is what he wants. I can’t fucking fathom it.

She squeals before popping a fried calamari ring in her mouth. “Yes! My new clothes came in today, in fact.”

“New clothes?” I ask, glancing toward Dad. He is blissfully unaware.

“Well, you can’t go to Thailand looking like a slob,” Irene insists—like she would know. Like she’s ever been anywhere before now. “And I want to look nice on my honeymoon. I’m sure we’ll be taking plenty of pictures, after all. I want to look back fondly.”

Sure, and everybody knows you can’t look back fondly on an event unless you’re wearing an entirely new wardrobe. A glance at Elliana gives me no clue what she’s thinking, though something tells me we’re on the same page. She’s cringing, playing with a stuffed mushroom on her plate as an excuse not to look up.

“The shoes!” Irene gushes, guiding a calamari ring toward Dad’s waiting mouth. “I’m almost embarrassed by how much I spent, but you’re going to love them. We’ll be doing a lot of walking, after all—I want to be comfortable while looking good for you.”

I’m going to be sick. The smell of the food turns my stomach until I can’t stand being at this table another second. When I push away from it, Dad and Irene look my way with wide eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Dad asks in response to what has to be disgust etched across my face.

He really needs to ask? “I’ve had enough.” Folding my napkin, I leave it on the chair before pushing it closer to the table.

“But you haven’t eaten,” Irene so helpfully points out. Nothing gets past her.

“I don’t have an appetite. I think I’ll just drive home—can Elliana ride with you?” I ask. Because something tells me she would love nothing more than the excuse to escape, too. But I’m not going to give it to her. Let her sit here and suffer through this. Maybe next time we’re all out together, she’ll be a little more friendly. Maybe we can commiserate.

Right now, all that matters is getting out of this restaurant and as far from the whole charade as possible. The wedding is looming up, right on our asses, and I’m going to have to find some way to make it through the day without either laughing openly or getting shitfaced just to survive.

TWELVE

Elliana

“I’m sure he’s fine,”Mom tries to keep her voice low on the way home, putting a hand on Paul’s leg in the front seat. “Everything is fine. He probably just wasn’t feeling very well.”

Something in the way Paul grunts tells me he doesn’t buy it—and he’s right, obviously. For some reason, Mom refuses to acknowledge the way Carter feels about her, about this entire arrangement. But that’s not really a surprise. I’ve known her all my life, and I know how good she is at ignoring the things she doesn’t want to acknowledge.

Like me, for instance, who she has successfully ignored for most of my life. I exist, sure, but I’m almost like a chore she can’t avoid. Like washing dishes or mopping the floor. A necessary evil. That’s all I am.

And what is she to me? Right now, a source of massive embarrassment. She’s not only an expert at closing her eyes to the truth, she’s also massively unaware of how obnoxious she can be. To sit there and practically brag about all the money she’s spending? I wanted to die of shame. But she doesn’t seeanything wrong with it. She thinks it’s totally normal to talk to her husband like he’s nothing more than a walking credit card. I honestly don’t know how she does it. I don’t think I would be able to live with myself.

“I hope you were still able to enjoy your dinner.” It takes me a second to realize Paul is talking to me. When I look at the rearview mirror, I find him offering a slight grin. “That was some pretty good chicken parm, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” I agree, making the effort to speak because I feel sorry for him. He’s in a bad position. For some reason, he loves Mom—I can’t figure that one out. But Carter’s not making it easy for him. At least I know I’m not the only one he tends to make miserable. Right now, watching frustration play out over Paul’s face in the mirror, I don’t find any comfort.

“Now remember,” Mom teases—at least, she tries to make it sound like she’s teasing as we roll up the driveway. “We need to be careful what we eat for the next couple of weeks until the wedding rolls around. We can’t afford to gain a pound.”

“I won’t forget,” I murmur, gazing out the window toward the second floor of the house. Carter’s room overlooks the side of the house where Paul pulls in. Does he know we’re here? The lights are out up there. He hasn’t gone to sleep yet, has he? I can’t imagine why he would. It’s not even nine o’clock.

Maybe he really does feel sick. I can’t believe I care either way as we walk around to the front of the house with Paul teasing Mom over something or other—I’ve completely tuned them out, all of my thoughts focused on what’s waiting for me once I’m inside.

Please, don’t let him be in a bad mood.If he’s in a bad mood, there’s not a doubt in my mind who he’s going to take it out on. I would like just one peaceful night. Is that too much to ask? It’s bad enough I had to sit there and listen to Mom make an endlessfool of herself throughout dinner while wishing the whole time that I could crawl under the table and not come back out.

I hate the thought of anybody knowing she’s my mother. Every loud, bawdy laugh, every time she squealed over something, I shrank a little further in my seat. Does she get off on being so embarrassing? No, because she thinks she’s being charming. Completely deluded.

All I know is, I can’t afford for Carter to be in a bad mood. Those photos on his phone are never far from my mind. What if he decides he’s so pissed at Mom, he’ll use them to get back at her somehow? Not that I would ever tell her. Even if I believed she would be remotely sympathetic. I would rather have my tongue run over by a truck than breathe a word of it to her. What could she do about it, anyway?

No, I get the feeling it would be enough for him to know he defiled her daughter. That would satisfy him, at least for a little while. At least until he got bored with it and decided to up the ante again.

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