Page 36 of My Ex-Fiance's Best Men
Dominic made sure I had a shot of whiskey before we walked through the doors of Baldwin Mansion. The smoky liquid left a slight burn down my throat, but it relaxed me just enough to keep me focused and my head screwed on right—at least for a little while.
“It’s a beautiful home,” he says.
We stand in the foyer as Maggie, one of the housekeepers, politely takes our jackets. I grew up in this place, yet ever since my father died, I have felt like a guest here. It’s as if the house itself doesn’t really want me anymore. Or maybe it’s because of the way my own mother and sister make me feel when I’m here.
“It is,” I agree, looking around.
The foyer is airy and inviting. My mother stresses the importance of always having fresh flowers around the house, so it’s no wonder that every porcelain vase in this space overflows with blossoming chrysanthemums.
“Ah, Phoebe, darling,” Mom says as she comes down the main staircase. “Gentlemen, I’m glad you could all join us.”
“It’s an honor to be here, Mrs. Baldwin,” August politely replies.
“Mrs. Astor-Baldwin,” she corrects. “But please, for the sake of brevity, call me Helen. It’s much easier.”
As usual, she looks beautiful. In her late fifties, my mother is a vision in her silver dress with a V-neckline, diamonds sparkling in her ears and around her throat. She’s slender with bleached blonde hair and perfectly traced red lips. She takes a moment to measure each of us from head to toe while her heels click with every step she takes.
She finds my companions charming, while I get a silent look of disappointment, which makes me feel stocky in my peach cocktail dress, even though Dominic helped me pick it out, insisting it hugs my figure in all the right places. Nothing I wear is ever good enough for Mom. It’s written all over her face.
“You got a tan,” she remarks as she comes closer.
“We caught plenty of sun while in Hawaii,” I reply with a polite smile.
She leans in, weakly pressing her cheek against mine. It feels cold, forced, and for show. I’m sure she’s more concerned about smearing her perfect lipstick than about showing me any sincere affection.
“Gentlemen, you look absolutely dashing,” she says, as each of my men shake her hand. I think she expected each of them to kiss it, the disappointment noticeable in her voice as she motions for us to follow her into the dining room. “Right through here, if you will.”
“After you, Helen,” August replies.
Maggie scurries ahead and opens the embossed doors, revealing an elegant space with cream walls and lacquered parquet floors. A dining table stretches across the middle of the room. There are twelve chairs, but the table is only set for seven. I’m trying to figure out who the seventh person could be, praying to God my mother didn’t invite Matthew.
“Sis!” Crystal exclaims as she springs from her seat. She rushes over to hug me, though I’m not sure where the enthusiasm stems from and it makes me a bit uneasy. “Welcome back!”
“Thank you.”
She pulls back, frowning as she scans me from head to toe. “Went wild on the churros, huh?”
“Crystal, honey, don’t be mean to your sister,” Mom says. She doesn’t sound like she means it and alarm bells start ringing in the back of my head. This feels like a setup to a really bad joke. “I assume you’ve already met Matthew’s groomsmen?”
“Oh, I know these fine fellas from a while back,” Crystal replies, then gives each of my men a playful, flirtatious wink. “So thrilled to have the three of you here tonight.”
I’ll bet she is.
I’m going to need a hell of a lot more than one shot of whiskey to get through the night. Dominic discreetly squeezes my upper arm, and I glance at him. He smiles as if to quietly reassure me that everything is going to be okay.
Honest to God, I want to believe that. But my gut says otherwise.
“Let’s take our seats, shall we?” Mom says after all the usual pleasantries are exchanged.
Mom sits at the head of the table, her usual spot. Crystal sits beside her, while Dominic, August, and Theo take the three seats to her right. I take the fourth. Maggie quietly moves the place setting over to where I’m seated while Mom and Crystal glower at me.
“Love what you’ve done with the place,” I say, glancing around at the ivory curtains and silk ivory tablecloth with embroidered golden lotus blossoms. “The dining room looks like something out of an Architectural Digest magazine.”
“Thank you, darling,” she replies with a faint smile.
I always compliment her design style. It’s a lesson I learned early on to keep the conversation pleasant or to steer it away from the unpleasant. I figured I’d start strong.
“Is that bohemian crystal?” I nod at the wine glasses. “They look gorgeous.”
