Page 98 of Oblivion

“There’s nothing wrong with my dress, Mama,” I say a little louder than I intended.

“Well…” Mama starts, her eyes full of censure as she purses her lips. “I suppose California is a little more…loose with their fashion.”

The feeling of her displeasure settles over me like a blanket, and even though I’m nineteen and engaged, I can’t help feeling like a little girl who just got scolded. Her opinion shouldn’t bother me this much. It’s not like it’s new to me. She’s always dressed conservatively and expected me to do the same, but here, in my new life in California, it hurts to feel her judgment.

“California is a lot less…buttoned up than Washington, DC is,” Evan growls, glaring menacingly at my mama as he curls his palm around the back of my neck, rubbing his thumb soothingly over my pulse point.

Guiding me to a chair, he pulls it out for me, pushing it closer to the table as I sit down before taking the seat beside me. Lifting my left hand out of my lap, he entwines it with his, holding it on top of the table and putting my engagement ring very obviously on display.

“Well, now, that is quite a ring,” my dad says, arching his brow as he retakes his seat, his gaze on my hand.

“I find diamonds beautiful but a little bland. An emerald has so much more…depth,” Evan says, his tone smooth and polished.

“May I?” Mama asks, lifting her hand across the table.

Evan releases me, and I hold my hand out to my mama, bracing myself for her response. Instead of disapproval, Mama elegantly holds my fingers and squeezes me gently. “It’s beautiful,” she whispers almost reverently.

“Thank you,” I whisper back, feeling some of the tension melt from my limbs.

When the waiter arrives at the table, Evan orders a bottle of champagne, and the waiter nods and scurries away without asking either Evan or me for ID. I’m guessing it’s probably gota lot to do with the price of the bottle he requested, because if I know Evan, he’ll have ordered an insanely expensive vintage just to prove that he can in front of my parents.

Minutes later, a woman approaches, followed by a waiter carrying an ice bucket and a stand. The woman introduces herself as the hotel’s sommelier, then proceeds to tell us a little about the bottle Evan ordered before offering him some to taste. After taking a small sip, he nods at her, and she quickly pours us each a glass, leaving the rest of the bottle in the ice bucket before leaving.

“A toast,” Evan says, lifting his champagne flute into the air.

Dad quickly follows suit, and Mama mirrors him, even though it’s clear to see they’re both still a little shocked by the way the staff both easily deferred to Evan, even though my parents are both significantly older.

I’m the last to raise my glass, looking at Evan when I eventually lift it into the air.

“To Sammy, my soon-to-be bride. I can’t wait to give you my name and a life full of happiness. I love you. Thank you for being mine.”

“To Sammy,” my parents both say, surprising me when they don’t comment on the shortened version of my name I’ve used since I moved to Cali.

Rolling my eyes playfully at Evan, I blow him a kiss, then bring my glass to my lips and take a sip.

“What time is your appointment with the dress designer?” Mama asks once the waiter has taken our food orders.

“Err…” Turning to look at Evan, I arch my eyebrows at him in question.

“It’s at eight p.m.,” Evan says, turning to answer my mama instead of me.

“And what kind of clothing company sees a bride at eight at night?” Mama questions.

Evan smirks. “Ones who are well compensated. The designer created a dress for my sister when she got married. I knew that Sammy liked her work, so I contacted her and explained the timescale. She was more than happy to make sure that Sammy gets the dress of her dreams.”

“I thought you were an only child?” Dad questions.

“Starling is the daughter of my stepmother, but we’ve known each other since high school. She recently married Sebastian Lockwood, who is one of my best friends and someone I consider a brother. So, she’s a sister by marriage and by family.”

“So, I take it Starling never lived in Alistern House with you?” Mama asks me, her tone haughty.

“Err, no she didn’t. Starling and I met on the first day of school. She knew that the situation at Alistern wasn’t ideal and offered me her old room in Collinswood after she moved into Sebastian’s room with him.”

“And did you ever plan to tell us that you weren’t living in the housing your daddy and I were paying for?” Mama asks, her lips pursed in annoyance.

“Mama,” I say on a sigh.

“Don’t you Mama, me, young lady. You lied to us for months.”

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