Page 16 of Four Weddings to Fall in Love
I snort.Just my fucking luck.
“Aiyah!”Mom says.“What was that noise?Is something wrong?You need to make a good impression!”
“I’m fine,” I murmur.
The guy from my crappy one-night stand is at this wedding, but otherwise, I’m fine.
There are a hundred and fifty guests.Odds are we won’t be seated at the same table for dinner, and from the little I know of Max, I can’t imagine he’ll tell other people what happened.
Look at me, searching for silver linings.
“You know,” Mom says, “a wedding is a great place to meet people.”
Yeah, for a fuck.
Obviously, that’s not what she means.
“You’re thirty-two—”
“If you say anything about my shriveled eggs,” I mutter, “I’ll scream.”
Mom clucks her tongue.“You need to try harder.Remember the time you got a B in grade eight English because you didn’t put in the effort?Don’t let that happen again.”
“Fine,” I huff, not in the mood to argue.
She fans herself.“It’s too hot today.They should have planned the weather better.”
Seriously?
“They booked it more than a year in advance,” I say, “and it’s not like they can control the forecast.Besides, lavender season isn’t that long.I think it only started last weekend.”
“It was more comfortable last Saturday.”
“Which they couldn’t have known fourteen months ago.”
“When you get married”—I don’t bother correcting her—“I’ll make sure the weather is perfect.”
“How will you do that?”I ask.
“Ah, why are you arguing with me?It’s a beautiful day!We’re at a wedding.”
“Youjustsaid it was too hot.”
We shuffle forward, waiting to pay our respects to the happy couple and their families in the receiving line.Ten minutes pass before it’s finally our turn, and Mom seems determined to have a five-minute conversation with Gladys to make up for the wait, much to the frustration of everyone else behind us—and me.
“Don’t worry.”Gladys pats my mother’s hand.“I’m sure it’ll be your turn soon.”She shoots me a smile.
I cringe at the thought of marriage, but I try not to let it show.
“Your special man is out there somewhere.Maybe he’s even at this wedding.”Gladys turns back to my mother.“You must join us for the first round of family photos.Don’t say you’re not family.”
Mom puts up a protest, but I know she’s secretly pleased—whereas I’m anything but.I want to be drinking something cold, not standing around in a sunny field.
Oh, and Max is family.There’s also that.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m as miserable as expected, surrounded by lots of yelling aunties.Two of them switch places yet again, and the photographer sighs.I hope she’s getting paid well for this nightmare.
I’ve realized why Gladys wants us to be in the family pictures.Dylan’s father is apparently one of six kids, and Dylan has tons of cousins; Gladys doesn’t want Mirabel’s side of the family to look comparatively small.And it’s pretty obvious whose family is whose, since Mirabel’s is all Asian, and Dylan’s is ninety percent white.The photographer has taken a picture of the happy couple with Dylan’s family, and we’re now preparing for the photo of both families.
