Page 43 of Personal Foul

So what I should do is just call the whole thing off. I really should.

Somehow I doubt she’ll believe me.

It’s while I’m following those rabbit trails through my brain for the millionth time—and completely ignoring the movie that’s supposed to be distracting me—that my sister calls.

“How’s my favorite sister?” I answer, happy for something that might pull me out of my head.

“Ha,” she responds dryly. “I’m your only sister.”

“So?”

This time her chuckle is genuine. “I’m good. But I haven’t heard from you in ages. And you still haven’t responded to the invitation to my engagement party. Mom can’t be convinced that you’re coming without that, despite my reassurance that you wouldn’t miss it. I know it’s a pain, but could youpleasejust fill out the card and drop it in the mail? Like tomorrow?"

“You’d think Mom’s the one getting married the way she’s stressing over this. And didn’t she hire a party planner?”

“Of course she did. But that’s why Mom needs the card. Without it, the party planner doesn’t believe you’re coming either.”

“Alright, alright,” I grumble, heaving myself off the couch to dig up the invitation and RSVP card. “I thought the RSVP card bullshit was only for the wedding itself. This is just supposed to be an engagement party.”

I can practically hear Victoria rolling her eyes over the phone. “Quit bitching about it and do it. And yes, you’ll have to do it again with the wedding invitation. While you’re bitching about having to check a couple boxes on an RSVP card, think about how much harder it will be for me. I’m the one who has to actually plan the wedding while Mom does her best to take over everything. All you have to do is find a date and decide whether you want beef or chicken.”

“What? You mean you’re not having a fish choice? What about a vegetarian option?”

Victoria groans. “You know, you’re not nearly as funny as you think you are.”

“Okay, but seriously. You really should have a vegetarian option at least. It’s Seattle. Someone on your guest list—hell, someone in your wedding party—will be going through a vegetarian phase by the time you get married. Have you set a date yet?”

“Oh my god, not you too.”

I laugh. “What? Isn’t that a pretty normal question when someone gets engaged?”

“No, no. It is. I know. It’s just been impossible to find a venue that we both like with availability in a reasonable amount of time. I don’t want to wait three years to get married just so we can have Mom’s dream wedding location.”

Another chuckle escapes me. I can only imagine how much trouble Victoria is having wrangling the opinions of our mother and her fiancé. Cameron’s a good guy, and I hope he’s helping alleviate the pressure instead of making things more difficult for her. But I can imagine that he wants to have a say on where he gets married too. I know I would.

Our mom is a force to be reckoned with, though. She has strong opinions and is used to getting her way.

“It’s okay to tell Mom no. You know that, right?”

A sigh comes from Victoria. “Andyouknow that’s easier said than done, right? And anyway, you’re one to talk. You’re following the life plan Mom and Dad laid out for you step by step.”

I make a few grumbling noises. “It’s notexactlystep-by-step. They’d rather I didn’t play football, for one thing. And they wanted me to go to an Ivy.”

She snorts. “And your big rebellion is going to Mom’s alma mater instead.”

“It’s still not Harvard,” I mutter. “Besides, you’ve done a pretty good job of following their life plan too. Youdidgo to Harvard. And now you’re back with your fancy degree and your fancy fiancé—”

“You know he’s not that fancy. He’s upper middle class at best. And not from a prominent political family, which is what Mom and Dad really wanted.”

“They like him, though,” I say, a little defensive. “They’ve always welcomed him—well, after the first meeting where they interrogated him—and I haven’t heard either of them say a bad word about him.”

“Oh, yeah, they’ve been great. You’re right that they’ve been nothing but kind and welcoming to him—after that first meeting. But we both know they want us to help build their dynasty.” She clears her throat. “Anyway, I thought we were talking about my engagement party. Send in the RSVP—”

“I’m filling it out right now,” I interject.

“Good. And don’t forget to bring a plus one.”

“Aw, c’mon, Tori. Seriously?”

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