Page 80 of Champagne Fizz

“I know you’re used to taking charge of everything,” Connor replies, “but dad liquidating his stake in the firm—that one’s still a little too fresh for him to be playing the golden child.”

“Give him time to cool off then,” Mom jumps in, “and when it gets closer to the wedding he can call me himself. He knows better than to insult me like this.”

Ouch! Her tone has me conjuring up an image of a Barbara Bush look-a-like, wearing strings of pearls that she twists angrily against her knuckles.

“The wedding’s in two weeks.” Connor states plainly.

“What?!”

There’s another silence, and Olivia throws back her second shot and starts ripping up the edge of her napkin.

“You’re invited,” Connor continues. “Dad’s not.”

More silence.

The lack of response goes on so long I wonder if the call has been dropped, when—

“When did Ned get engaged?”

“Um…” Connor looks at Olivia and she holds up her fingers. “That would be three months ago.”

“That’s fast,” mom snips. “How long has he known this girl?”

“Long enough to know he wants to spend the rest of his life with her,” Connor says defensively. “You know your favorite son, when Ned finds what he wants he doesn’t hesitate.”

“He’s like his father in that way,” Mom comments, which makes Connor’s fists curl against the wood of the table.

Olivia motions like she wants to talk, and Connor shrugs. It’s her funeral.

“Hello, Mrs. Voss?” Olivia interjects politely, and there’s an audible intake of breath on the other end.

“I’m sorry,” mom snips. “Who is this? Connor?”

“Mrs. Voss, hi, I’m Olivia,” she says, leaning in toward the phone receiver. “I’m Ned’s fiancée.”

“Connor?” Mom snips. “Are you telling me Ned’s fiancée is there with you and he’s not?”

“It would mean a lot to me,” Olivia continues, not letting Connor answer, “and it would mean a lot to Ned, too, if you came to the wedding.”

“If it means a lot to Ned, then he should get on the phone and ask me himself!” Mom barks, dismissing Olivia.

“You know that’s not going to happen,” Connor cuts in. “Dad dropped the Fuck You bomb only a few months ago—”

“Language, young man!” Mrs. Voss scolds, and Connors tenses like a triggered teenager.

“Okay,” Connor shakes his head, speaking through gritted teeth. “Dad dropped his I’m-going-to-reem-you-up-the-ass card a few months ago, and as you might’ve guessed, Ned’s asshole is still pretty raw from it. So—”

“Connor Alexander Voss!” Mom snaps. “You do not—”

“Nope,” he interrupts, taking a third shot and throwing it back. “There’s no way on God’s green earth Ned’s going to know you’re coming to his wedding until you’re sitting in the audience watching him sayI do. That’s the way this is going to play out, Mom. If you need a personal invitation—too bad! You’re not going to get one. What you need to understand is this phone call is me throwing you a bone so you don’t miss your eldest son’s wedding—if you have it in your heart to care about that.”

His mom is silent on the other end.

That was harsh. If this is how Connor speaks to his mother, I can’t imagine the conversation we’d be having with his dad.

“And yes, that was Olivia, a second ago,” Connor continues. “That was Olivia, Ned’s fiancée, that you just dismissed like she’s second-rate scum. News flash, Mom, Olivia’s the new number one woman in Ned’s life now. Not you. She’s the royal-fucking-princess of miracles because she makes Ned smile and laugh and not be a class-act asshole—like dad. She’s the one who makes your son feel like a million bucks, and it’s her feet you’re going to have to grovel at if you want to even think about having Ned in your life.”

Still silence.

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