Page 2 of Flare
Andrew grinned down at her.“Not when you’re Grandma Katherine. If she wants something, she makes it happen.”
There was no way Emily was going to win this argument. She’d been a fool to even try. She looked away.
I should be grateful that Andrew and his family are paying for everything.That’s what Emily told herself every time doubts crept in.
The designer dress fittings, the lavish four-tier cake from Spokane’s trendiest bakery, the luxury honeymoon to Bora-Bora… these were luxuries she’d never imagined having.
Growing up with a single mother who’d worked two jobs just to keep the lights on, Emily used to fantasize about weddings like this while flipping through bridal magazines at the library.
Now she was actually having one, with a guest list of over six hundred people. Most of whom she’d never met.
And it was turning into a nightmare rather than a fantasy.
Ever since she and Andrew had announced their engagement to his family last Christmas, her wedding had turned into Grandma Katherine’s event.
Andrew’s grandmother had already convinced them to change nearly everything about the wedding that Emily had originally planned.
And from the beginning of their engagement five months ago, Andrew had made it clear Katherine called the shots in the Brunborn family.
Emily could still remember Grandma Katherine’s disgusted expression when Andrew had introduced her to his family at Christmas and announced he’d proposed to Emily.
The elegant older woman’s gaze had swept Emily from her discount shoe store boots to her drugstore makeup, measuring and finding her lacking in a single glance. She’d made Emily feel instantly out of place.
“So, you’re marrying your little secretary?” Katherine’s voice had dripped with condescension.“What aninterestingchoice for a bride, Andrew.”
As Emily’s face heated with humiliation, Katherine’s cold blue gaze had sharpened. She added in an insincere tone,“But I’m sure you have many redeeming qualities. Welcome to the family, Emma.”
“My name is actuallyEmily, Mrs. Brunborn.”
“Emma, Emily…” Katherine had waved dismissively.“Let’s just call you‘Emmie.’It’ll make things easier for everyone.”
AndrewknewMom was the only one who’d ever called her“Emmie.” But instead of standing up for her, Andrew’s hand had tightened around Emily’s in silent warning.
Katherine’s usurpation of that beloved nickname had set the tone for Emily’s every interaction with Andrew’s relatives since then.
Emily had spent the rest of Christmas dinner perched tensely on her chair, terrified of using the wrong fork or spilling red wine on the antique damask linen tablecloth. She’d ventured to make conversation when it seemed appropriate, only to have her remarks dismissed with polite disinterest (Andrew’s parents) or snarky sarcasm (Andrew’s obnoxious older brother Grant).
By dessert, she’d fallen silent, speaking only when directly addressed, which happened exactly twice.
She’d never seen anyone command a room like Katherine.
When the Brunborn matriarch spoke, everyone stopped what they were doing to focus on her. Including Andrew, who in every other context was assertive to the point of domineering.
It had been weird watching her confident fiancé transform into an anxious, approval-seeking man-child in Katherine’s presence, just like every other adult around the dinner table.
Even worse, since that night, Andrew had grown more and more judgmental of Emily. The way she spoke. How she dressed. Her table manners. Her opinions on art, politics, wine.
His criticisms had really taken off once Emily began planning their wedding.
“I’m just trying to help you fit in,” he would say when she objected to Grandma Katherine’s orders to change this or that about their plans.“You’re going to be a Brunborn. There areexpectations.”
The charming, funny Andrew, who’d pursued her for months, who’d told her she was a breath of fresh air in his stuffy world, had vanished completely since Christmas. In his place stood an increasingly cold, controlling man who seemed to find fault with everything she did.
Now, Emily smoothed her hands over the skirt that Andrew had told her he liked.Compromise is the key to a happy marriage, she reminded herself.“Why can’twepay for the reception, ask Chef Artemis to cater it, but hold it at your grandmother’s country club?”
Her salary as his executive assistant, while generous, wouldn’t stretch to hosting a dinner for their large family. But Andrew was rich.
He checked his watch, a vintage Swiss timepiece that had belonged to his late grandfather.“Didn’t I say it was a done deal? The club had its own caterers. Call the wedding planner and tell her to cancel Wildflower.”
