Page 34 of Axe Backwards
I almost lost it when she leaned in, running her fingers along Vic’s cheek, and said, “Surely there’s a decent dermatologist inBangor. You should make an appointment. You won’t be young forever. A few laser treatments could go a long way.”
God, this woman was a fucking delight. As Mrs. Randolph’s face was pulled so tight she resembled a rabid dog, I had to bite back the urge to comment.
Thankfully she moved on from judging her daughter to grilling us about our relationship and my job. So I shifted gears and focused on being a supportive, friendly plus-one as Vic went with the story we’d settled on. That we were neighbors who started as friends and eventually became more.
“A Hebert?” Her mother scoffed.
Her derision wasn’t a shock. My family didn’t have the best reputation. My dad was doing time in federal prison, after all.
As Miranda yammered on, several people came over to say hello. The bride, who wore a serene expression, rubbed at her stomach, which looked pretty flat to me, continuously. Then a tall and painfully thin woman I assumed that was Vic’s other sister appeared.
“What do you do?” Alexandra asked me, still unnecessarily cradling the nonexistent bump. The tone of her voice indicated that anything less than investment banker or CEO would be insufficient.
“Firefighter.” It wasn’t technically true, but something told me that mentioning my state of unemployment would not have gone over well.
The moment the word came out of my mouth, all three of their faces fell. It was apparent that I was no longer worth speaking to. It was for the best, really. This interaction needed to end.
I put my arm around Vic. My protective instincts were screaming at me to throw her over my shoulder and make a run for the nearest lobster shack for beer, real food, and a break from this bullshit.
Before I could put my foolproof plan into action, though, another woman came barreling through the crowd.
“You said you weren’t dating,” Mrs. Dupont insisted, fluffing her teased blond hair. Her late husband had been mayor when I was a kid. She was one of those mean, insular types who thought she was better than the rest of us.
Though she wasn’t too good for gossip. That was her main stock-in-trade.
Vic’s mother and sisters exchanged looks, their expressions all narrowing. Several conversations nearby quieted, as if everyone within earshot was listening in.
Next to me, Vic stiffened. “We were keeping it quiet,” she said, her tone soft and her cheeks going pink.
“This one doesn’t date much,” Mrs. Dupont announced loud enough for the entire room to hear. “Probably still in love with the groom.”
In response, Vic gasped. Alexandra rubbed her baby bump, wearing a smug smirk.
Fuck. This had to be Vic’s worst nightmare come to life. People were staring and whispering, their judgment and gleeful looks impossible to ignore.
“Of course they’re dating,” Aunt Lou said, batting at ankles with her cane as she pushed her way into the group. She threw Mrs. Dupont an absolutely murderous look, then eyed me up and down. “Look at him. If she didn’t lock him down, I would have. You know I have a weakness for firefighters.”
I pulled Vic closer, rubbing a hand down her upper arm.
“He looks like that.” Lou gestured to me, almost hitting Alexandra with her cane—likely on purpose. “Andhe’s a hero?” She put her hand over her heart. “Swoon. My Victoria’s taste has improved so much since she moved north.” She shot a glare in Graham’s direction.
Alexandra glowered, and beside her, Miranda rolled her eyes. I was pretty sure that was the only facial expression she was capable of making.
Mrs. Dupont’s nostrils flared. “They’re always together,” she said, “but we all know they’re only friends. His own mother confirmed it at knitting group last Tuesday.”
Anger ignited in my chest. Why this vile woman was so concerned with my personal life was infuriating. But the heartbreak I felt for Vic, who was shrinking little by little beside me, was far more acute.
I had to remedy this situation. Make her feel better. No, Vic wasn’t my girlfriend. Though I wouldn’t admit it to this old biddy or the snobs surrounding us. But she was my friend. I cared deeply for her. And just being here was traumatic. There was no way I’d let her be humiliated like this.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Dupont,” I said, keeping my tone disgustingly polite. “But I take offense. There’s no way on earth I could spend even a small amount of time with this woman and not fall wildly in love with her.”
Aunt Lou smiled at me. I was smiling back when movement behind her caught my eye. It was Graham. The bastard ex-husband himself was sauntering our way, wearing a smug smile and one of those preppy sport coats, looking like he’d come in from fox hunting.
Blood boiling, I clenched my fists.
He was at least a few years older than Vic, maybe over forty, and brimming with the kind of unearned confidence his daddy’s money had probably bought him.
I was several inches taller and, from the look of things, could snap him in half if I needed to. And it was beginning to look like that may be the only way to escape this nightmare.
