Geneva looks down. “Well! I thought you weren’t coming.”
“Of course I wanted to come. It’s your wedding.” Vi’s smile is tentative as she looks up at Geneva.
“Your father”—Geneva’s voice grows pointed—“told me you were too busy and important. I wanted you to be part of the ceremony.”
My jaw tightens. It’s the same kind of manipulation my mom would always use. Worked, too, until I got out on my own. An urge to defend Vi pushes at me, but I keep my mouth shut, since I have no idea what was said between Geneva and Wyatt.
“That isn’t what I said,” he protests. “I said—”
“I don’t mind helping,” Vi says. “I mean, if it’s not too late.”
Geneva’s sneer grows nastier, and my heart starts to break for the kid. This isn’t going well. As a matter of fact, nobody should’ve ever thought it would give her any kind of closure. Geneva has always been a selfish bitch, incapable of empathy. The only thing she cares about is what she wants.
“Well, it is too late. I don’t need you now, so just…go take a seat. You can have some cake afterward.” She crosses her arms and studies Vi with a vaguely dissatisfied look. “Or maybe not. Have you put on weight?”
My hands itch with a murderous desire to strangle her with her own veil. Except that wouldn’t solve the problem. “Vi looks fantastic just the way she is,” I say, gently squeezing the poor kid’s trembling shoulder.
“That’s a real compliment coming from you, Scarface,” Geneva says.
“Not just me. Josephine Martinez thinks so, too. You’ve heard of her, right? The one who dresses all the important people in Los Angeles?”
Geneva expression rapidly goes from surprised—showing she has heard of Jo—to stricken. I guess she couldn’t get on Jo’s client list.
I give her a smile full of teeth. “You might be interested to know that Jo chose Vi’s outfit personally. Said she’s never had a client so delightful and lovely to shop for.” Okay, she didn’t really say that, but Geneva doesn’t need to know. And besides, this little lie is for a good cause. Vi needs something to bolster her self-esteem at the moment.
Wyatt tightens his arm around me for a second, silently communicating his thanks. I appreciate his gratitude and support, but even without it, I’d still be defending the hell out of Vi.
“Anyway, we’ll be going, since you’re too busy to be nice to your guests,” I say.
Just then, Abby’s shrill voice comes from behind Geneva. “Oh my God, then just find him the old-fashioned way.” I lean to my right and see her on the phone. “Well, search the damn buildings! We can’t go ahead without the groom.”
Geneva’s face turns red, and she slams the door in our faces.
“Guess the groom’s missing,” I say.
Wyatt grunts, the sound eloquently communicating that he doesn’t give a fuck.
“Maybe he just went to the bathroom,” Vi says.
Sweetie, nobody stays in a bathroom this long…unless he’s puking his guts out over the dawning horror that he’s marrying a sociopath. “Could be. He might’ve eaten some bad shrimp or something.”
“More like he’s hiding somewhere, getting drunk,” Wyatt mutters just loud enough for my ears.
“Maybe we should look for him,” I say, even though I don’t really want to. But the wedding can’t start without the groom. And with every passing second, Geneva’s going to feel more and more upset. Then she’s going to lash out at everyone. Vi doesn’t need more nasty attacks from her own mother today. She’s suffered enough.
“Let’s not.” Wyatt’s tone says he’d rather have the groom vanish forever and leave Geneva humiliated.
I don’t blame him, especially after her nastiness. Usually people mellow out as they mature, but somehow that hasn’t happened with Geneva. She’s just gotten worse.
“Do you want to stay here any longer than we have to?” I whisper, hoping Wyatt says no. Maybe he wants to catch up with his old buddies in town. He must be an object of admiration—maybe even envy—after his billion-dollar deal with Sweet Darlings. And I just want to get out of here.
His face still says he’d rather leave the groom finding to someone else.
Fine. I suppress a sigh. Never let it be said I’m not accommodating. “Okay. Why don’t you go get Vi settled somewhere? I need to use the bathroom, then I’ll join you.”
Wyatt nods. “We’ll be over there.” He tilts his chin toward the field, where the altar and chairs are set up.
I watch them walk off, then start toward one of the four smaller buildings in the orangery. I spot a huge pink and white truck with a logo that says Bobbi’s Sweet Things in a bubbly font. Must be the baker. Is the cake big enough to fill the entire back of the