Page 37 of My Ex-Fiance's Best Men
Crystal snickers; she knows my angle here. We are sisters, after all. We follow the same playbook, except hers usually works.
“So, how was Hawaii?” Mom asks, avoiding my question and looking directly at the guys.
“You don’t waste any time, do you?” I ask her. “Maybe try getting to know them better before you start your interrogation.”
“I know everything there is to know about these three gentlemen,” Mom says.
Theo’s eyebrows pop up. “You do?”
“Of course. Three men decide to run off to Hawaii with my heartbroken daughter, and you don’t think I’ll do some digging to find out precisely who they are and what they’re after?”
“They’re not after anything,” I curtly reply, working overtime to keep my temper under control. It’s obvious that both my mother and sister are out for blood—if only to make my evening miserable. Tonight’s dinner is clearly my price to pay. “They wanted to make sure I made the most of my experience, especially after what Matthew did.”
Mom gives me a sour look then smacks her lips. “And did you have fun?”
“So much fun,” I shoot back.
“It’s impossible not to have fun in such a beautiful place,” August says with a charming smile. “The weather is perfect. The beaches are pristine. Service at the resort was exceptional. We all enjoyed our stay there.”
“It shows,” Crystal replies, smirking at me.
If she weren’t so mean, I think she would truly be the most beautiful girl in my world. Crystal looks a lot more like our mom, with the same figure and sparkling smile. She’s even wearing a silver skater dress—a shorter but equally elegant version of Mom’s, which she matched with a diamond tennis bracelet and tiny, gorgeous earrings.
I got the blonde hair and the blue eyes, but I didn’t get their dress size.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snap.
Dominic firmly grips my knee in his hand to keep me anchored and calm. “I’m sure it does show because we truly had a great time.”
The sound of incoming heels fills me with dread.
“So sorry I’m late!” Georgina says, as she rushes into the dining room.
“Oh, shit,” I mutter, realizing what havoc is about to be unleashed upon us.
Sometimes I think Crystal and Georgina came out of the same model factory. Perhaps it’s why they’ve gotten along so well since middle school. While Crystal stuck to the family business, albeit on a mediocre level while pursuing the socialite’s endeavors on the side, Georgina made her name on some of the world’s most prestigious runways. She’s been on every fashion magazine cover there is, and designers practically fight each other to book her for their shows. The woman is beautiful. Slim with legs for days and plenty of filler and Botox to give her an edge in an already insanely competitive industry.
“Phoebe, welcome back,” Georgina says after she gives Crystal a warm hug and plants a kiss on my mother’s blushing cheek. I swear, Mom likes Georgina more than she ever liked me. “Heard you had a blast in Hawaii.”
“Hi, Georgina,” I reply with a weak smile.
She doesn’t give me another second, shifting her focus directly to Theo and the twins. “My, my. Long time, no see.”
“You weren’t at the rehearsal dinner,” Theo says.
The three of them get up purely out of politeness, but I can tell there’s something scratching just beneath the surface, at least between Theo and Georgina. Something I most definitely don’t like.
At least now I know who the seventh place setting was for, and while I’m glad it isn’t Matthew, I still give my mother a sour look to express my displeasure. She doesn’t care.
“The dinner wasn’t the most important part,” Georgina answers as she takes her seat. “I was gearing up for the actual wedding. By the way, what happened there, honey?” she asks me, offering a soft smile.
“Ask Matthew,” I bluntly reply.
“No need to ask anybody,” Dominic intercedes. “It was a foul move, and we all know it. He shouldn’t have done what he did. Phoebe is better off without him.”
“Fair enough, but it had to come from somewhere,” Georgina insists, her smile growing wider as Maggie pours her wine and water. “Thank you, Mags.”
Mags. She’s calling our maid Mags, like she lives here. Ugh, the nerve.
