My Big Fat Fake Honeymoon - Lauren Landish Page 0,116

anything I’ve done before. “I saw Emily and Doug at check-in, and she was . . . well, herself, and I was floundering. Lorenzo—he’s Violet’s cousin—came up and saved me. I didn’t know he was going to be there, but he cooked for the wedding last-minute. And it just popped out . . . I said we were there on our honeymoon too.”

Dad mutters under his breath, looking at the ceiling as though cursing God for his stupid children. Or maybe praying that we finally grow the fuck up. Either way, he ends the private conversation by swallowing his second scotch and setting the empty tumbler on the side table next to him.

Leaning forward, hands interlaced between his knees, he clarifies, “Instead of bragging about this amazing wedding you were there to work on, on the successful business you started on your own and run not only debt-free but with a stellar ROI, and the happy life you have carved out for yourself . . . you went with a fake honeymoon?”

“Well, when you put it like that, I do see how stupid it sounds,” I admit. I hear Dad’s assessment, his pride in how well I’ve done, and it soothes something in me to know that he’s proud of me, of what I’ve accomplished. Even if I haven’t done all the things I want to . . . yet. And even if I did . . . this.

Unexpected emotion wells up in my throat. “In the moment, it was just easier to . . .”

Mom comes to my side, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me to her in comfort. “It was easier to beat her at the only thing she values. She wouldn’t have understood the hard work you’ve put in or the goals you’ve crushed. People like her only understand who they are based on who they know.”

Mom is so fucking smart. I don’t forget that she’s brilliant and leads events and charities by the dozens, but she’s quiet about it in some ways, making it seem so effortless that I do forget that she’s as much a powerhouse as Dad.

I nod into her shoulder. She lets me have a meltdown for one more second and then she pats my back before pushing me away coldly. “All right, now. Get on with it. Tell us the rest.”

I find strength and keep going. “I was faking a honeymoon with Lorenzo. Like dinners, couples’ yoga, a sunset cruise.” Dad makes a snorting noise, and I rush to clarify, “Only when I was all caught up with the wedding stuff. Janey and I did everything one hundred percent.”

“I’m sure you did, Abi. I don’t doubt your dedication to your work. I do, however, doubt your sanity. All of yours, actually.” Dad looks from me to Ross to Courtney. “Is it too much to ask that my children simply meet someone, fall in love, and get married in the usual way?”

“We’re unusual people,” Courtney states dryly.

There’s a moment of stunned silence as we look from one to another, frozen in time and space. And then surprised, shocked laughter bursts out of all of us.

“Oh, my God, Abi, you should’ve seen the look on your face when you threw that drink,” Courtney huffs out between snorts. She pulls an exaggerated look of disbelief in mockery of what I apparently looked like.

“Not as great as Mom’s!” Ross adds, mimicking Mom’s horrified face.

“That was not funny!” Mom argues, but she’s laughing too.

Even Dad is chuckling.

“Thanks for having my back like that, Dad,” I tell him earnestly. “That was above and beyond any smackdown I’ve ever seen. Bitch smackdown, verbal warfare style.”

Dad bows formally. “Glad to be of service. You might choose to make your own way, but when push comes to shove, you are and always will be an Andrews and I will always ‘have your back’, honey.” He says the common phrase as if it’s weird on his lips before admitting, “I just wish it hadn’t been so . . .”

“Public?” Courtney offers.

“Yes,” Mom confirms. “Speaking of . . . are we making an announcement about another new marriage?” She leans forward, eager to hear my answer. I think she’d be quite happy and not surprised at all if I had run off and gotten married without telling a soul. Hell, as grandbaby-keen as she is, she’s probably hoping for a baby announcement too.

“At least this wedding, we won’t have to pay for,” Dad jokes, though I think he’s at least