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This is a little weird.

“I promise that I will love your mother every single day, every single minute, from now until forever. You don’t need to worry that we’ll get in an argument and things will change. We fight plenty, but it never changes how much I love her.”

The girls are smiling.

He stands up. “And I promise that I will listen to the excellent advice of Dave and Seren.” He mock whispers, “But when they disagree, I’ll go with Seren.”

Everyone laughs at that.

“I finally got this one tied down,” Barbara says.

And everyone cheers.

It’s a really lovely wedding—no rain, no strangeoutbursts. No bizarre displays or awkward interchanges. Just a little boring, and really, really cute.

Of course, the wedding dinner, which is inside in the ballroom, is when the alcohol comes out. I’m as surprised as everyone else when, after moving into the ballroom with Bea at my side, the bride unties something around her waist and the bottom half of her dress just drops to the ground in a bright red puddle.

“Now it’s time to have a little fun.” Barbara waves at the band in the corner and they start to play. “And you should probably brace yourselves. Apparently some of the family’s planning to toast us.”

“In spite of our best efforts.” Bentley groans. “They’re a gregarious bunch.”

There’s some jeering and laughter, but most everyone starts looking for their seat. There are little placards, but they’re small. Bea’s waving me over, presumably having found ours, when someone taps my shoulder.

When I turn around, it’s the man I’ve been preparing to see, the future senator of New York, more than likely. “Easton.” He purses his lips. “I’m not happy to see you here.”

“No?”

His nostrils flare. “I think I was pretty clear. You should’ve broken up with my granddaughter as I asked.”

“And yet, I have no intention to.”

“You think I’m being a tyrant,” he says. “I understand that from your perspective, it feels that way. But trust me when I say that I know better than you what she needs in her life, and you’re all wrong for Bea. It’s not just about my campaign.”

“How am I wrong for her?” I spread my arms. “I’m not deformed. I’m not a pervert. I hold down a job.” I shrug. “I’m educated, and polite, and I love her.”

He scowls. “Yes, you’ve said, but Bea needs someone who puts her needs first. She needs someone who’s solid. A family man.”

Before I can even tell him exactly how I’ve put her first, Bea steps next to me. “Grandfather.”

He sighs. “Beatrice. I’m just having a word with?—”

“No.” She folds her arms. “I forbid it.”

22

BEA

When I saw my grandfather moving toward Easton, I knew what I needed to do. I nearly dropped our nameplates and then scrambled across the room, waving people off rudely.

When I draw near, I hear my grandfather, spewing nonsense as usual. “Bea needs someone who puts her needs first. She needs someone who’s solid. A family man.”

As if he has any idea what I need. Or even more ridiculous, as if he cares. Before poor Easton has to take one more second of abuse, I take his arm. “Grandfather.”

My grandfather sighs. “Beatrice. I’m just having a word with?—”

“No.” I fold my arms. “I forbid it.”

“Pardon me?” He’s always saying that. It’s his polite way of saying ‘I reject your premise. Try again.’ Only, I’m done trying to please him. Done for good.

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