Page 42 of Hating the Bratva

“Francis, it’s always a pleasure.”

“Well, let’s get you two settled.”

He leads us through rows of wedding dresses that eventually open up to an ample seating area. I assume for most brides, this is a pivotal moment. They probably invite all their friends and spend months looking through inspiration photos.

“Go ahead and have a look around while I set up your dressing room,” Francis says after handing my mom a glass of champagne. He scurries off down the hall. I’m the one who needs the glass of champagne, but I don’t say anything. I walk over to a rack of dresses and casually flip through them.

“Honey, I know this isn’t ideal.”

I stiffen a groan.

“Your father and I have both spoken with Ivan. I know he’s not who you imagined, but I think he will be a good husband.”

I can’t hold back my reaction this time. A laugh bubbles in my chest and escapes through my lips. I turn around to see she’s looking at me with a hint of concern in her eyes.

“A good husband? Did he tell you that he took me out on a date and tried to drive us back home after he’d been drinking? Or that he pocketed the waitress’s number like I wouldn’t notice? Or that he doesn’t believe I should work outside the home like it’s the 1950s or something? Everyone knows his reputation, Mom. He’s a drunk and a playboy. The only reason I’m marrying him is so that war doesn’t start because he can’t control where he puts his—”

“Delaney!” my mom scolds, her face red from embarrassment. “That’s enough. You will not embarrass our family. You’ve had plenty of time to talk with me and your father, but instead, you choose to stay with Alek and live in fantasy land. This is happening, Delaney, whether you like it or not. One week from today.”

My mouth drops open. One week? The wedding is in one week? My heart drops to my stomach, and I can’t breathe. It’s like my lungs don’t work. “One week.”

“Yes. I tried to wait as long as possible to pick out the dress because I knew this is how you would act.”

Francis chooses that moment to come back to the waiting area. It’s obvious he picks up on the tension in the room, but he does a good job of not showing it. His smile stays perfectly in place despite the turmoil that’s running through me.

He clasps his hands together. “Delaney, your room is all set up. There’s a few dresses already hanging up…” I zone out and miss whatever else he says. I follow him to the dressing room in a trance. One week.

I feel like I’m in the twilight zone as I try on dress after dress until my mom approves of one. I don’t even register what it looks like. Francis gives my mom instructions on when she can pick it up, and before I know it, we’re back inside her Lexus.

“I thought you knew,” my mom says quietly once we pull away from the dress shop.

I shake my head. Her eyes flash to me, and I see the pity in them. I ignore her and face the window.

“I didn’t know it was going to be Ivan. I thought it would be Alek, Honey. I really did.”

“So did I.”

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