Page 4 of No Questions Asked

“Oh, Lexi,” she said. “I’m so excited to look for your dress today. Even if we have to do it online.”

I loved my mother. I really did. She’d always been there for me when I needed her. I knew she wanted the best for her only daughter. The problem was we had two completely opposing views on where my life should head. She saw me and my potential through the prism ofherexperiences. While her experiences had worked out great for her, I was never going to be the beautiful, fun-loving, friendly, social butterfly that she was. Not that I wanted to be. My life was happily filled with computers, technology, hacking, and math.

Regardless, I was grateful to have a supportive family, including my dad and brothers, a few close friends I trusted with my life, and a soon-to-be husband and soulmate who’d pulled me out of my shell and taught me more about life than anyone I’d ever met. But my wedding had become really,reallyimportant to my mom. I had no idea how to reconcile that with what I wanted—which was to elope and skip the entire ceremony thing. In fact, the only thing standing in my way of starting that happy life as a married woman was a fancy wedding that neither Slash nor I wanted but were destined to have in order to make the people we loved happy. So here I was, sucking it up and preparing to look at wedding dress after wedding dress online, hoping I could find one that would satisfy me, as well as my mother.

But mostly my mother.

“Hey, Mom. Come on in.” I forced a smile and took the flowers and wine from her. “Thanks for coming. Hang up your coat in the closet and join us in the kitchen. I’ve already bookmarked the sites you suggested so we can look through the dresses.”

“Excellent!” Her pretty face lit up. “This will be so much fun, Lexi.”

I couldn’t remember when I’d seen her so happy, except for when I told her I was engaged, which only made me feel worse about my inner struggle.

I set the wine on the kitchen counter. While I put the flowers into a vase with water, Basia poured my mom a glass of wine. Then the two of them started looking through the photos without me, which was fine by me.

“Hey, this one would look great on you, honey,” Mom said, turning the laptop toward me while I dried my hands on a dishtowel.

Tight, clingy, with a daring dip down the front. Oh, heck no. My boobs, what little I had, would be barely covered. Hell would freeze over before I put that on.

“Let’s keep looking,” I suggested.

Eventually, I climbed on one of the barstools, drank wine and offered mostly noncommittal comments likehmmmormmmto all the photos they showed me. One hour passed, then two. Mom bookmarked several dresses that I didn’t reject outright.

At some point, I stood up to go to the bathroom. I stumbled, a bit tipsy, then steadied myself with a hand on the counter. A rectangular card fell from my sweater pocket and fluttered to the ground.

Mom leaned over and picked it up. “You dropped this. Are you okay, Lexi?”

“I’m great.” My voice sounded slurred. Jeez, I was definitely tipsy.They were looking and I was drinking.

She held up the card between two fingers. “What’s this?”

“A business card, I think.” I squinted at it.

Mom read the card. “Amanda McCormick? You have a business card from Amanda McCormick?”

I frowned and took the card from Mom, trying to figure why the name sounded familiar. My eyes settled on the silver and gold entwined hearts.Crap, crap, crap!I’d forgotten to throw out the business card for the wedding planner.

Basia hopped off her stool and came to look at the card, too. “Amanda McCormick is the most sought-after wedding planner in the U.S. Is there something you aren’t telling us, Lexi?”

My brain, unfortunately impaired by one glass of wine too many, sorted through a variety of plausible explanations, none of which would make this issue go away. I decided honesty was the best policy.

“I didn’t forget to tell you anything...because there’s nothing to tell,” I said. “The president gave me her card as a courtesy. I forgot about it. End of story.”

“The president?” Mom pressed her hand to her breast. “As in Jack Paulson,thepresident of the United States?”

Uh-oh. I had to tread carefully. “Um, Slash and I met with him a week ago, and—”

My mom held up a hand, stopping me midsentence, a look of horror on her face. “Wait. Youmetwith the president of the United States and you didn’t think to mention it to your father or me?”

Ugh! This was getting worse and worse. Why had I agreed to this virtual viewing? Why had I drunk alcohol?

“Um...sorry?”

My mom shook her head in disbelief or perhaps disappointment. “The president gave you Amanda’s card and jotted down on the back that you should get the family and friends rate on his suggestion. And you didn’t think it was worth mentioning to me?”

“You make it sound like a lot bigger deal than it was.”

“We’re talking about the president of the United States personally giving you an in with wedding planner extraordinaire Amanda McCormick,” she said with a frown of disapproval. Definitely disappointed with my failure to communicate. “Amanda just put on the wedding of the year. How can that not be a big deal?”

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