My Big Fat Fake Wedding - Lauren Landish Page 0,122

for this little match made in heaven.” She points from me to Violet and smiles.

For all her scheming, she’s not half bad. I could definitely do worse for a sister.

I laugh, and Violet joins in, both of us hugging Abi when she comes over. “I love you, Abs,” I whisper to her, and she hugs me harder. “Thank you.”

“I’m serious about that twenty-year thing,” Abi whispers. “Your little sister sees all.” She wiggles her fingers in the air, like she’s casting a witchy spell over us, but I don’t need one to be in love with Violet.

“Yeah, well—”

“Excuse me.”

The voice is unfamiliar, but as soon as it comes over the speakers, Violet goes pale and looks toward the stage. “No—” she quietly says in horror.

I follow her gaze and see Colin Radcliffe holding the microphone that Abi just abandoned. He’s sharply dressed in a suit, but his face is twisted in smug satisfaction. “What is he doing up there?” I ask out loud to no one in particular.

“Sorry to interrupt, folks, but I figured before this . . . farce went on any longer,” Colin says to the stunned crowd who are looking at each other with questions in their eyes, “well, I wanted to put my two cents in. I’d have spoken at the wedding, but a certain maid of honor saw me and made sure a couple of the bride’s cousins escorted me out.” He glares at Abi, and even from here, I can see a couple of guys getting up to make their way toward Colin. I’m pretty sure the one in the front is Rafael, and I’m glad he’s putting his muscle to good use today.

“Get off the stage!” I call out, standing to lend Violet’s family a hand.

Colin must sense that his time is running out because he begins talking faster, his face turning red with impotent fury.

“What’s the problem, Ross?” Colin taunts with an ugly sneer. “Afraid everyone’s going to learn the truth? That this wedding, this whole romance, is nothing but a lie? It’s all fake.”

Shit. Fuck. That motherfucker.

I move toward the stage, but out of the corner of my eye, I see the camera crew moving, and a sick dropping feeling hits me. If I go after him, I’m damned. If I don’t, he talks, and I’m damned.

I try to remember what Violet told me about this guy, which admittedly isn’t much because we’d spent most of our time talking about each other and the future. But she said he’s all about image, so I play to that weakness with an insult, hoping to put questions in folks’ minds about whatever he’s going to say.

“Sour grapes are so tacky. You’re insane, Colin.”

“Jilted lovers often are,” Radcliffe replies, his voice not shaky at all, though he’s feigning sadness as he looks at Violet.

“For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Violet’s previous fiancé, or one of them, at least, because it does seem like she’s collecting them.” He laughs harshly into the microphone like he told a joke with his salacious suggestion. People murmur and look to one another in confusion.

“You broke up with me, Colin. What are you doing? Why are you doing this?” Violet yells hysterically, standing up but staying behind the table when Abi puts a hand on her arm, keeping her in place.

Colin whirls on Violet, “I did, but I made a mistake. This was supposed to be our wedding–our venue, our ceremony, our day. You should have fought for us. But nooo, Violet Russo’s too good for that. Hell, I even tried to get you back and you turned your back on me. No one does that to Colin Radcliffe.”

The furious proclamation has weight, floating dangerously in the air. That he’s talking about himself in third person only amplifies how crazy he sounds, which I hope works in our favor.

“But you’ll pay,” he threatens darkly.

He pulls out his phone and clicks the screen. A video begins playing, too small to see from where I am, but he holds it up to the microphone, and I recognize Violet’s voice at the same time everyone else does. It’s muffled, like she’s on a speakerphone, but it’s obviously her.

“I’m scared, Abs,” Violet says on the recording. “I’m scared everyone’s going to find out this is all fake and it’s all going to fall apart in flames of glory. I’ll be the laughingstock of the city, and Ross will be a pariah, any hopes he has of improving his reputation at