Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
A waiter comes over to our table.
Helen gathers up the menus and hands them to him with a cool smile that declares I’m being polite because I’m civilized, but you’re not important.
I wonder how the waiter feels. He probably doesn’t even notice it anymore as most of the clientele in here probably look at him the same way. I bite my lip to stop myself from smiling as I imagine the waiter in a bar or something after work with his friends talking about taking crap from these people and saying how clueless they are as to how the world really works.
We order our meal.
“And bring a bottle of your finest champagne,” Helen orders in a clipped accent she probably thinks makes her sound classy, but just makes her sound pretentious, as far as I am concerned.
No one speaks like this naturally. I can’t help but think if a person is truly comfortable with who they are, they don’t need to fake things to make themselves feel more important than they actually are. I decide to stop being a bitch. Helen is clearly old money, and she’s probably never known anything different to this lifestyle. It’s no more her fault she was born rich and blinkered than it is when someone is born poor and sees too much too young.
“Yes ma’am.” The waiter nods, and scurries back away, fading into the background just like he’s been trained to do.
Helen turns to me. “I hope you don’t mind me being blunt, dear.”
I shake my head. I actually don’t mind. I like honesty, even if it hurts, and I would prefer her to get the objections and the accusations out of the way right off the bat.
“I am not a huge fan of Finn going through with my father-in-law’s ridiculous request, but he’s explained his reasoning to me, and I will support his decision. I understand why he’s doing it, and I understand why you’re doing it. I can’t say I understand Arthur’s reasoning, but he was an old fool. Anyway, my point is that we all know this is nothing but a sham marriage, and I just want to make it clear to you now that you will not receive a penny more than what the agreement states. Are we clear?”
“Jesus, Mom…” Finn starts, his voice hard.
I’ve never heard him speak like this before, but I interrupt him, “I can fight my own battles, Finn.”
He turns to stare at me.
I look him square in the eye. Something flashes in his eye and I can see he is not happy to back down. “Please?” I implore quietly.
His adam’s apple jerks, then he nods curtly.
I turn to Helen and almost tell her the truth; that I have a background in contract law and there is at least one loophole in the paperwork Finn sent over which I could exploit if I really wanted to. I won’t, because I have no intention of whoring myself out for my own personal gain, but I could. Instead, I decide to tell her a version of that part. “I have no problem with that, Helen. I’m not sure what sort of women you associate with, but let me assure you that I am not for sale. I am going along with this agreement only because the money will help so many people who truly need it. I don’t need your son’s money to make my life better and I have no intention of trying to get a penny more than what our contract stipulates.”
Unembarrassed, she nods with satisfaction. “I’m glad we’re all on the same page here. Now, let’s get down to the actual wedding.”
I snort out a laugh which I manage to turn into a fake cough. The very idea of planning a fake wedding just strikes me as funny. I mean what’s to plan? We’ll go down to the Justice of the Peace office one afternoon, sign some papers and it’s done.
It seems Helen has other ideas though. She leans down to the ground and pulls a huge binder from a leather bag.
I look over at Finn.
“Totally up to you,” he offers with a shrug.
Helen puts the binder on the table and opens it. “I’m just going to run through some of the details, but don’t worry too much about taking it all in right now. Damon will go through everything with you in more detail later.”
“Damon?” I ask.
“Damon Brown,” she repeats and looks at me like she’s waiting for me to magically know who he is. When it’s clear that isn’t going to happen, she shows the first sign of discomfort. “He’s the best wedding planner in the city, and he’s agreed to do this for me as a personal favor. The wedding will be in one month and you have a lot to decide.”