Page 114 of One Time in Paris
ISLA
“They really should have just gottenmarried today rather than elope and wait to celebrate it five months later.”
Isla stiffened at the familiar sound of her father’s voice as he came up behind her at the cocktail table. Dad set a plate of canapés on the tablecloth with a frown. “This is a wedding reception without a wedding. Wouldn’t have taken much to just allow us to witness the nuptials.”
Isla leaned over and kissed her father’s cheek. “Honestly, Dad, what difference does it make? Receptions are the only part of the wedding worth attending.”
He scowled at her. “That’sa sad statement about your views on marriage, Isla Grace.”
She grinned. “You know I’m just purposely ruffling your feathers.” She looped her arm through his. They didn’t see each other often, but she’d always had an affectionate—but distant—relationship with her father.
God, this party was giving awkward family dinner energy but with nicer clothes and fewer carbs.
She’d planned on hiding in the loo until dessert, but now she was stuck making small talk with her father about the sanctity of marriage. Fantastic.
He hadn’t been a bad father, just a brokenhearted one—left humiliated when Mum ran off with another woman. It had wrecked his self-esteem, hurt his pride,andbroken his heart. Diana had been the bandage: cold, poised, and conveniently uninterested in her stepchildren.
Maybe that was why Dad had chosen another wife so opposite from Mum. Mum was a warmhearted Latina—a carefree, beach-loving free spirit. Whether or not Dad had been aware of his choice in a stepmother as Callum and Isla had been at the time, it had put a wedge in their relationship.
Unintentionally having slipped into silence, Isla shifted her weight. “So, you’re not having fun?”
Dad shook his head. “I didn’t say that. I’m just saying that when you get married, I expect a proper wedding. At least one of my children could grant me the honor of being there when they wed.”
Isla grimaced, her gaze flicking across the crowded room toward Aiden.
God, he looks so sexy in his suit.
There was something impossibly unfair about him looking that good and feeling this distant from him. How could he look like her safe place and still feel a thousand miles away?
They hadn’t talked once since the beginning of the party. She’d purposely avoided him, and he appeared to be doing the same. It didn’t help that there were at least six people here who knew the truth about them—and once Tomas and the film crew got here, there would be even more.
Isla was dreading that, to be honest. Callum and Liddy had agreed to allow Tomas and one cameraman in after the dancing had begun, though Boyd was setting up in an adjoining room to watch live. But none of that messiness compared to the thought of seeing Davy.
Boyd had wanted to film some footage of Tomas and her walking in the streets of London on Thursday—and the interaction with Davy had been stiff. Awkward.
The rift between them seemed like a chasm.
She needed her best friend right now. The fact that Davy wasn’t there, and the wound from their argument, hurt deeply.
To make matters worse, Liddy was also being cool. And while Elle had tried to help Aiden and Isla in the morning, Isla hadn’t gotten the impression that Elle wanted to get pulled any further into the middle of it while they'd been getting ready earlier. Not that Isla blamed her.
And then Mum gave me an earful about it.
So here she was, stuck talking to her dad—and Kyle, when he drifted by—feeling like an outsider in her own family.
Like Dad probably did, ironically. Of course, Dad had Diana to attend to occasionally. Diana had parked herself next to Aiden’s parents and hadn’t moved since.
“You should come visit me occasionally,” Dad tried again, his voice softer. “I miss seeing your face at the house.”
Isla reached for her cocktail. “Well, I would, but I don’t really know if Diana would like that, Dad.”
At least they’d reached the point in her life where they could talk about this openly.
“Whether she does or not is irrelevant. She enjoys enough of my money to keep her happy. Come for your old dad, instead. I’m sure you can always stay at Megan’s if you’d prefer, like you did last time.”
“I’m not sure about that. She’s busy planning her own wedding in a couple of months.” She sipped the gin spritzer, the tangy lemon flavor making her mouth pucker. “But I’ll do my best.”
“I tried to be a good father, you know,” Dad said, face reddening as he attempted to eat a canapé in one bite.
