Page 74 of Whatever You Need

I huffed in frustration,throwing my red cocktail dress on the never-ending pile on my bed. Every dress I pulled off the hanger felt wrong. Everything about this night felt wrong. I looked at myself in the mirror; for a girl who was getting ready to celebrate her own engagement, I sure looked miserable.

It’s been ten days of trying to get Marco to talk to me. Ten days of silence. I was so tired of pretending that everything was fine. As the days ticked by, things only started to get more out of control. I felt like a beaten down woman who just wanted to have a pity party for one here in the comfort of my own home, instead of going out tonight and putting on a public appearance.

I looked at my hair and makeup and sat down on my mattress, never feeling more damn miserable in my life. The bracelet that Marco gave me for Christmas dangled along my wrist, further reminding me how messed up this was. The last thing I wanted to do was take it off, but I couldn’t exactly wear it tonight of all nights either. With a heavy heart, I released the clasp and tucked it away for safekeeping. In its place was a diamond tennis bracelet that my mom had gifted me for my high school graduation.

After taking a few minutes to pull myself together, I finally decided on a silky, deep blue shimmering floor-length gown. My forehead wrinkled in irritation as I slipped my heels on. The gown was beautiful with an off the shoulder neckline and a slit that ran all the up to my thigh. The last thing I wanted was to give Owen something good to look at, but tonight wasn’t just about him. It was about doing the right thing. It was about starting my new life, even though it felt more like an ending than a beginning.

After fifteen minutes of pacing in my living room, my phone buzzed with an incoming text. I set my wine down and swiped the screen.

Owen: I’m outside waiting. Come out when you’re ready.

The jackass couldn’t even pick me up at the door. Cursing, I slid my jacket on, stuffed my phone in my clutch, and stormed out the door.

The drive downtown was tense as Owen continuously reminded me that I would have to drop my scowl and smile a time or two. By the time we made it to the valet, I hopped out of the car and raced toward the front entrance of the hotel. He caught up to me as I reached the elevator bank and grabbed onto my elbow. “Remember, this is supposed to be the happiest night of your life, so start pretending to fucking like me.”

“I don’t need a reminder.” I smiled tightly as an older couple walked up. Owen’s hand went to my lower back, my much, much lower back. “What are you doing?” I hissed on a whispered breath.

His fingers tenderly brushed my hair off my one shoulder. He leaned his mouth under my ear and pressed a kiss that was salacious enough to draw attention. “I’m acting like a man who can’t keep his hands off his fiancée.”

“If you don’t remove your hand from my ass, you’re going to feel the heel from my shoe spike you in the balls.” I smiled sweetly while he barked out a laugh. The elevator doors pinged open and I stepped out of his hold, making a point to squeeze between a group of people, causing him to stand on the other end.

When we reached our floor, I allowed him to grab my hand and lead us toward the party. The room was already filled with guests and everyone was dressed in their best suits and cocktail dresses. There was a long line at the open bar as waiters in tuxedos circled the room, holding silver trays with hors d’oeuvres and champagne. A string quartet played classical music on the stage, but there would be a much livelier band performing after dinner that would be the main attraction.

Owen shook hands, and I said my fair share of hellos as we moved through the crowd. This was our “coming out” moment, and I could practically hear the gossip and the whispers behind our back. People turned their heads as we walked by, staring as Owen made a big show of pulling my chair out for me and kissing my cheek. He was laying it on thick and the crowd seemed to be lapping it up.

“Breathe, Amelia,” my mother whispered as she took the seat next to me. “You look beautiful. Keep your chin up and don’t let this get to you.” She patted my hand. “Everything will work out.”

I tried to appear as confident as possible as Owen’s parents joined our table. How the hell was I supposed to act so happy when my entire world was falling apart?

“Hello, Susan.” I forced my tone to be polite and slipped into the role that I needed to play tonight. That’s exactly what this felt like. A performance. Only I was a horrible actress and it would be a miracle if I pulled this off.

“Amelia, you look lovely,” she commented, but made no effort to make eye contact. In fact, she barely passed me a smile.

“Thanks, so do you.” Owen’s mother, Susan, had the same dirty blond hair as her son and a personality to match. She was well-dressed and exactly what you would picture a rich socialite to look like. The amount of jewelry she wore was ridiculous and was probably purchased from one of her trust fund monthly disbursements. As far as I knew, she never worked a day in her life.

“What do you think of the ring?” she asked, folding her hands in her lap. Everything about her was formal. The way she sat. The way she talked. The way she dressed. No matter how many years I’ve had to deal with her, I’d never feel comfortable around her.

“It’s beautiful.”

“See, son. I told you I picked out the right one.” She winked and my back straightened. It took a minute for my brain to register.

“Your mother picked out my ring?” My eyes flickered to the massive diamond that took up a good chunk of my left finger. I was growing more and more uncomfortable by the minute.

Owen pulled on the lapels of his suit coat. “I’ve been busy.”

I bit back my response and contemplated wringing his neck. Instead, I dug my fingers into the chair and figured it was best not to cause a scene.

Susan cleared her throat. “I’ve also put together a binder filled with wedding preparations,” she said, seeming unfazed by the thick tension at our table. “I was able to secure one of the best florists in the city, and I’m having a photographer flown in from Paris that came highly recommended. I also met with a designer from New York who you’ll need to meet with this week.”

How thoughtful. Was she even going to consult with me on my own damn wedding?

“I can’t wait.” My tone was filled with sarcasm, but she was too enamored with herself to pick up on it. I took a hefty sip of my drink. Was this the life I resigned myself to? A controlling mother-in-law, a loveless marriage, and stiff dinner conversations? Did she even care that her only son wasn’t marrying for love? Or was she more concerned with planning the biggest social event of the year? Seeing how she got her rocks off on being the center of attention like her son, my guess would be the latter.

Mya, one of our waitstaff, extended her tray, offering me a glass of champagne. “Thank you, Mya. It’s nice to see you out tonight. I take it your father is feeling better.”

“Yes, he is. Thank you so much for asking about him. The doctors think it was just a UTI.”

I set my fluted glass down on the table. “That’s great to hear. If you need more time off, let me know and I’ll arrange it for you. Family comes first.”

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