Page 52 of Tangled Like Us
We look over at the kitchen.
Farrow rests a shoulder casually on the archway, a red apple between his fingers. “While this entire pseudo Criminal Minds episode is entertaining as fuck, what’s the endgame here?”
I rifle through a stack of printed photographs. “Like I said earlier, if we pick a man who our grandmother would absolutely loathe and bring him to her house, she’ll see that the Cinderella ad failed.”
Maximoff studies the twelve photos on the corkboard. “Hopefully once she realizes the ad didn’t work, she’ll back off Janie and stop trying to play matchmaker.”
Our grandmother can’t slide by without understanding how deep this betrayal goes. I don’t want her toeverpull a tactic like this on any of our siblings or cousins.
It ends here.
My mom can be a murderous blizzard, and the day of the ad, she offered to fly straight to Philly from London to chew out her own mother with cold wrath. But I prefer to fight my battles myself, so I’m handling this alone.
Well…with a slight assist from my best friend. And his fiancé. And very soon, I’ll need my bodyguard.
So I’m technically not alone, but as my dad always says,some battles are best fought with a sidekick. These three men are mine.
Farrow rotates his apple in his hand. “Just send your grandmother videos of all the middle-aged dipshits outside trying to harass you, and she’ll regret what she did.”
“My brothers flooded her email and phone last night with clips and articles.” I had my publicist release a statement denying involvement in the Cinderella ad, and most media outlets said I was trying to cowardly backtrack.
A recent tabloid headline:
VAIN HEIRESS SCURRIES TO SALVAGE REPUTATION AFTER ADVERTISEMENT BACKFIRES
“How’d your grandmother respond?” Farrow asks.
“She emailed,bad press is good press. And that was it.”
Farrow shoots a caustic look at the wall and mutters, “Fucking hell.”
Maximoff glowers at the ceiling. Pissed. “I’m guessing she only thinksbad press is good presswhen it’s convenient for her.” He’s not as close to our grandmother, which is another reason why she most likely wants me to marry first.
They already know this.
I shuffle through a few more photos. “I think she’s convinced herself of a lot of terrible things.”
Farrow waits to take a bite of apple. I notice him staring at the titanium wedding band on his finger. He looks up at Maximoff. “There is something we could do, wolf scout.”
“No,” I cut in. “You’renoteloping because of her.” Emotion burns my eyes.
His lip quirks. “I didn’t say anything about eloping, Cobalt, but nice try.” He locks gazes with Maximoff. “We could tell your grandmother we’re not planning on getting married for a few years, maybe four or five. That way she’ll stop feeling pressure to wed Jane off this fast, and she won’t pull another stunt like this.”
They wanted a long engagement, but they didn’t wantthatlong.
Maximoff nods powerfully. He’d do anything for me.
They both would.
But I don’t want them to outright lie about their wedding for my sake. I don’t want to tarnish what’s supposed to be beautiful. “No,” I say again, capturing their gazes. “No. It’s not worth it.”
Farrow eyes the corkboard. “So you’d rather date one of these dipshits—”
“Date is a strong word,” I interject. “I’m going to haveoneluncheon with one of these suitors she’d despise. Most likely Mr. Football Man.” I pat the photo on the board of the auburn-haired athlete.
Farrow bites into the juicy apple. “Call Moretti.”
“Already?” I’m surprised he’s evenaskingto be in the same room with Thatcher a second longer than he needs to be.
