Page 10 of Fake Dating Adrian Hunter
I spoke too soon. This encounter with my mom and aunts is horrendous. I swear one of their favorite pastimes is embarrassing me. They did it all throughout my adolescence, and it appears nothing has changed now that I’m an adult.
I blow a lock of hair out of my face and search the restaurant, hoping to find a more reasonable group of people to talk to. People who won’t bring up embarrassing memories from my past.
“Hey, Mom, I just saw Aria. I’m going to say hi to her.”
“Oh, fantastic. Have some cousin time. Make sure you come back to us. We need to hear all the details about that good-for-nothing boyfriend who broke your heart. You poor girl.”
I race out of their company before any of them have the chance to say one more thing that makes me feel two inches tall. I don’t plan on talking with Aria at all. She teased me about my weight when we were kids. But as luck has it, she seeks me out with lips beaming from ear to ear.
Aria’s expression quickly morphs into confusion when she looks me up and down. “Verena, I hardly recognize you. I watch your show. The camera must use glamor filters because you look bigger in real life.”
Hello to you too.
She’d make a good team with Adrian.
My grandparents are no better when I see them. They tell everyone who walks by that their fondest memory of me is as a five-year-old child when I sleepwalked naked through the house.
When Tory introduces me to one of her bridesmaids, I remember why I never liked her friends when we were kids. Stacy—who I’ve just learned classifies herself as the maid of honor because I’ve been absent from the wedding preparations—has been chatting to me for thirty minutes now. She’s blond, tanned, married to a doctor, and is Tory’s best friend from high school who spent regular time at our house growing up. So, you’d think she would know my name is Verena but apparently not.
“Vera, I’m sure being a career woman has its moments,” Stacy tells me. “But I must say, there’s nothing more fulfilling than running a home and greeting your husband when he returns after a long day at work. I’m not saying what that man did to you was right. Cheaters are scumbags. But men have needs. Perhaps you should find more of a work-life balance.”
I snatch a flute glass off a passing waiter’s tray and swallow the champagne in one go. “You want one?”
“Oh, no.” Stacy waves her hand, laughing. “Mike and I are trying to get pregnant. It’s going to happen any day now. Mike can’t keep his hands off me. Are you thinking about having kids? I suppose not. You’ve got that big shiny career of yours, don’t you?”
How is Tory friends with this woman?
“Stacy, do you know the other bridesmaid, Nia? I’d like to meet her if she’s around.” I don’t know why I say that. An excuse to get away from Stacy? Nia’s probably worse.
“Yes. Nia, darling,” she calls, waving over a lady to join us. “This is Tory’s sister.”
I’m certain she introduces me this way on purpose. After all the accomplishments I’ve achieved, I’m still onlyTory’s sister.
“Yes, I know who you are,” Nia says to me. She’s a dark-haired, pretty little thing, with dark skin to match. “I’ve watched your reality show. I like the name.Valentine’s Day. It’s a smart play on your last name. Kind of ironic, though, considering what happened in your love life.”
Okay, wow, this is actually happening. These people really don’t have any filter. I grab another flute glass, because apparently alcohol is my only ally tonight.
“Darius issohandsome,” Nia adds. “I have a crush on him. He’s the best part of the show.”
“I’ll tell him you said so—”
Stacy speaks over me, like she’s bored with this conversation. “Have you met Phoebe’s side of the bridal party?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, there’s the best man, Josh, and a bridesmaid, Sukhi.”
“Who’s the third?”
“Oh, that was meant to be Nate,” Stacy says. “But poor thing, his mother was rushed to the hospital this past week and he’s had to remain in Sitka to care for her. Unfortunately, we’ve got an uneven number in the bridal party.”
“I’m sure it won’t impact the big day too much.”
“Everything will still be great. It just means you’ll be the odd one out in photos and riding solo during the first dance.”
I choke on my champagne. “What? No. They always pair the maid of honor and best man.”
“Traditionally, yes,” Nia giggles. “But there’s nothing traditional about this wedding.”
