Page 49 of Grumpy Alien Boss

“Dar wanted to invite her, didn’t he?” Mel says, her voice soft. “You told him no.”

I cross my arms, staring out the window. “Yeah. So?”

“So... you’re sure about that? I mean, it’s your wedding. Don’t you want her here?”

“No,” I say, my voice sharper than I intend. “I don’t need her here. She made her choices, Mel. She chose to walk out when I was sixteen. She chose to ignore every birthday, every Christmas, every time I tried to reach out. She doesn’t get to waltz back in now that I’m about to marry a billionaire.”

Mel leans forward, her eyes searching mine. “I get it. I do. But... Dar doesn’t know her like you do. He probably thought it’d be a nice gesture, you know? Including her.”

I huff a bitter laugh. “Nice gesture? Sure. Let’s invite the woman who abandoned me to watch me get married. That’ll beadorable.”

“Liv,” Mel says gently, “it’s your wedding. Your day. If you don’t want her here, that’s your call. But you need to own that decision. Don’t let it eat at you.”

I turn back to the window, watching the city blur past. “It’s not eating at me. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Mel says, rolling her eyes. “You’re Olivia McGee. You’re never fine. You’re always either furious or pretending you’re not.”

“Maybe I’m both,” I snap, then sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Look, Dar doesn’t get it. He’s all about family loyalty, even when it’s toxic. But he didn’t grow up with a mom who couldn’t be bothered to stick around. I did. And I’m not letting her ruin this for me.”

Mel nods, her expression softening. “Okay. Then don’t. You’re right—it’s your wedding, Liv. Your mom made her bed. She doesn’t get to crash your party just because she’s feeling nostalgic.”

I glance at her, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Thanks, Mel. For not pushing.”

She grins. “Hey, someone’s gotta be the voice of reason. And Maurice is too busy hyperventilating about roses or whatever.”

“I heard that!” Maurice snaps from across the seat, not looking up from his tablet.

Mel and I burst out laughing, the tension in the air dissolving. For a moment, I forget about my mom, about the wedding, about everything. For a moment, it’s just me and my best friend, laughing in the back of a limo. And for now, that’s enough.

The limo pulls up to Saint Patrick's Cathedral, and my heart skips. There, gleaming in the morning sun, sits Dar's silver Porsche 911. A week without seeing him, and just the sight of his car makes my pulse race.

"God, I've missed him," I say, pressing my face against the window like a lovesick teenager. "This whole 'week apart for tradition' thing is torture."

Mel snickers. "Need a cold shower before the ceremony?"

"Shut up," I laugh, but my cheeks flush hot. "I'm just saying, the wedding night is going to be..."

"TMI!" Mel holds up her hands. "Save it for your husband-to-be."

Maurice opens the limo door, and I step out into the crisp autumn air. The cathedral towers above us, all Gothic spires and pristine white stone. It's perfect. Everything is perfect.

Until I feel the tug on my sleeve.

I turn, expecting a well-wisher or maybe an early guest. Instead, I find myself staring into a pair of familiar green eyes—my own eyes, set in an older face.

"Mom?" The word comes out strangled. "What are you doing here?"

Elsie McGee stands before me in a powder blue dress, clutching her purse like a shield. "Olivia, honey..."

"Don't 'honey' me." I take a step back. "You can't just crash my wedding."

"Actually," Maurice interjects, his tablet already in hand, "Madame McGee is here at Monsieur Rook's personal invitation."

The world tilts sideways. Dar invited her? Without telling me?

"That's right," my mother says softly. "Darwin called me himself. Said every bride deserves her mother on her wedding day."

“Olivia, please,” my mother says, her voice trembling like she’s balancing on the edge of a cliff. “I know I’ve made mistakes. I know I should’ve believed in you. I should’ve been there. I should’ve doneeverythingdifferently.” Her hands are wringing the strap of her purse like she’s trying to strangle it. “But I can’t change the past. All I can do is try to make up for it now, if you’ll let me.”

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