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Yvette had wanted the reception to be angelic, with golds and warm lighting, and her design team had delivered. The white linen they’d had at the golf course had been replaced in the ballroom with gold fabrics, draped along the tables and along the free-standing partitions thatwere sectioned off about. The DJ booth in the corner was also decked out with glittering material and wispy white tulle, as if to give the illusion that it’d been taken from heaven itself. They’d even gone as far as replacing the bulbs in the chandelier with warmer toned ones, and it gave an ethereal glow to the entirety of the ballroom.
Ironic, given that it was my hell. I didn’t even look at the bride and groom’s table.
“Best behavior,” my mother warned, smoothing a hand down my hair. “Understood?”
I didn’t bother responding. My father sat there with his focus on his water glass, the socially awkward man he was. Vivienne Astor was there with her husband, undoubtedly, at her side. He was tall and thin but looked much like Aaron in the features. There were four empty seats at the table, one for me, one for Aaron, but I didn’t know who the two other ones were for.
“Here she is,” my mother announced as we made it to our table. I didn’t look at anyone as they lifted their heads.Faceless. “Fashionably late, as always.”
“Indeed, fashionably,” Aaron mused as I sat down in the chair beside him. We hadn’t spoken since Tuesday night at the bar; I wasn’t sure if that meant he’d given up or had taken time to develop a new strategy. “Don’t you look…dashingis almost the right word, isn’t it?”
I just stared at him.
My mother introduced me to Malcolm Astor, who seemed jovial enough as he paused from cutting into his chicken and stretched his hand to me across the table. In the ten seconds I’d arrived, I realized Sumner was right when he said that the Astors didn’t matter, because theydidn’t. I liked Vivienne well enough, but there was no urge to impress her as I met her this time. There was no reason to anymore.
I took a seat beside Aaron and stared at my plate of food. “Why do we have extra seats?” Mr. Astor asked as we all sat down, glancing at the two chairs that separated him and my father. “Who was supposed to be sitting with us?”
“Margot’s godmother, of sorts, Nancy.” Aaron reached over and laid his hand on mine underneath the table. His fingers were hot. “She, unfortunately, passed earlier in the week. Her funeral was today.”
“Is that why you’re wearing such attire?” Mr. Astor raised his bushy eyebrows in surprise. He then cleared his throat noisily when Vivienne shot him a dark look. “Well, Margot, I’m very sorry for your loss.”
My father, who sat beside my mother, nodded. “But how fitting, to celebrate loss with something beautiful on the same day, wouldn’t you agree?”
Fitting. Nancy’s death offsetting Annalise’s wedding wasfitting. I gave a slow blink, a pounding beginning to drum behind my eyes. “Aren’t you at all concerned?” I asked my father, gaze flat. “What’s going to happen to the land your hotel is on?”
My father blanched at my words and the domino effect they caused. “You don’t own the land?” Mr. Astor asked, sounding confused. “I thought you did.”
“This is the one plot of our hotels we don’t own,” my mother supplied, sliding in smoothly as she always did. “Ms. Nancy always held out on selling. To answer your question, Margot.” Her voice hardened ever so slightlyas she turned to address me. “We plan to buy it from whoever gets it in her will. We have more than enough to purchase at a handsome price.”
“Sounds like a stubborn lady,” Mr. Astor mused. Vivienne laid a hand on his arm, her gaze cutting to me, and her husband rushed to add, “Oh, I meant no offense, of course. It’s just an interesting business move on her part, not agreeing to sell when offered.”
“My parents always offered amounts under its value.” I stared at the bubbles billowing in the champagne, the image similar to what simmered inside me. “She would’ve been a fool to sell at the price they proposed.”
Underneath the table, my mother discreetly placed her hand on my leg and squeezed. Enough that it hurt. I didn’t even flinch. Instead, I smiled. With Aaron’s hand on mine and my mother’s on my leg, I was being held from both sides, tied in place.
“Vivienne,” my mother murmured. She had her gossip tone on and picked up her silverware. “Your son has been such a gentleman to Margot this past week. I’ve enjoyed getting to know him.”
Aaron tried to hide his smug smile by ducking his head, but Vivienne’s expression was far more gracious. “Thank you. It’s a relief to know we’ve raised him well enough. It’s no simple task, raising a child.”
“Oh, Margot was just a breeze.” My mom beamed at me. “Never gave us any problems. It was like she wasn’t there half the time!”
Probably because I wasn’t.
“I think…” My mother gave a girly chuckle. “I think Aaron would fit in well with our family. I hope I’m not overstepping by saying I think Margot would fit in well with yours, as well. From how much you seem to favor her.”
Vivienne’s lips parted, whether out of shock from my mother’s blunt segue or from something else, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t care.
Aaron took my hand from my leg to lay ours on the table, showcasing his fingers knitted around mine. “I know I favor her,” he said in a grandiose tone that nearly made me gag. “I’m excited for her to come back to California with us. Margot, you’ll find the beaches just lovely, I assure you.”
“So you’ve agreed?” Vivienne asked me. “To come back with us on Monday?”
It was the first I’d heard of it, outside of Aaron posing the ridiculous question earlier in the week. He’d said he’d been hoping I’d come back with him to California, but it was almost laughable he stated it now as if fact. However, in the eyes of everyone else, it was. “We have her flight already booked,” my mother assured. “It’ll be hard to be without her—it’s the first time, really!—but I know she’ll be in good hands.”
So that was why my parents had ended Sumner’s employment. I wouldn’t need a secretary anymore in California, not when the Astors would be there to watch over me.I’m not going, I wanted to tell them, but the words wouldn’t come.
Mic feedback cut through the room, startling into our conversation, a blessed reprieve. “Everyone, the bride and groom are getting ready to have their firstdance!” a man’s voice announced. “Please turn your eyes toward the dance floor.”
The camera crew rushed to get the perfect shot as everyone turned in their seats, except for me. As I sat there, poking the dry chicken and the mashed potatoes drenched in garlic butter, I had a thought that shouldn’t have been in my head. The white linen, the gold accents, the expensive crowd, the beautiful backdrop—if I married Aaron, is this what our wedding would’ve looked like?