My Big Fat Fake Wedding - Lauren Landish Page 0,123

work dashed by our secret arrangement.”

Then we hear Abi’s answer. “No one is going to find out that it’s a fake marriage so you can both save face. You’re going to walk down that aisle and make your Papa proud for his last days, and Ross is going to get Dad off his back and kick ass at work. And—"

It’s like a bomb just dropped on the whole reception.

Abi and Violet are pale and look like they’re going to be sick. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Maria Russo burst into tears, and suddenly, everyone’s talking over one another, yelling and gesturing and just trying to figure out in two different languages what the fuck’s going on.

On my side of the room, Mom also looks horrified while Courtney looks betrayed. Dad, for his part, is turning a pinkish purple of rage, and I can read the ‘I knew it’ in his glittery eyes.

“So congratulations to the whore and groom on a well-done performance.” He gives a light golf-style clap against the microphone with a satisfied smile. “May your fake marriage be as real as your fake romance,” Colin says, standing up and dropping the mic on stage.

“What’s he talking about?”

“How could you!”

“Violet!”

“Ross!”

I can’t put voices to faces. There are too many people yelling at once and too many of the same questions being asked. I look at Violet, who’s got tears running down her cheeks, and I know what I need to do.

Pushing through the crowd, I beat Rafael to the stage and jump up next to Colin. I’m already murderous, but Colin looks so self-satisfied, it angers me even more. “You’re welcome. She’s such a cold bitch, right?”

His switch from heated, spoiled entitlement to bro-casual chatter is disgusting. He’s ruined everything, for Papa, for Violet, for me, and doesn’t care in the least.

My fist flies even before I know it, catching him under the chin and sending him tumbling into the DJ’s equipment. I can hear and see the flashing lights as the news cameras catch it all, but I don’t care.

I’ve got one chance to fix this. Reaching down, I pick up Colin’s dropped microphone. “Everyone, please, this isn’t—”

Colin’s punch catches me blind, and I go stumbling back a few steps before he swings on me again. Suddenly, we’re in a full-on fight, falling to the stage and rolling back and forth as we exchange punches and elbows.

I don’t want to hurt him . . . well, at least that’s not my number-one priority. All I want is to get on the microphone to explain to everyone how what started as one thing has changed into another.

Violet’s scream pierces the haze just as I blast Colin in the nose with a sharp elbow that sends his head smacking backward into the stage. I look over, but she’s forgotten me as she kneels in front of Stefano.

“Papa!” she screams again as he slumps to the side, his hand on his chest and his eyes rolling backward. “Papa!”

Dimly, I hear someone else pick up the cry and another voice screaming for an ambulance.

And for the first time in my life, I have no answers at all.

Chapter 24

Violet

The waiting room feels like an interrogation room. Not that I’ve ever been in one, but I’ve seen enough on television to know this is what the bad guy feels like when he knows he’s been busted.

The triplets are staring at me with utter hatred in their eyes, and a few of my other cousins all look like they’d kick me out of the family if they had the option. I’m sitting in a chair, surrounded by my family, but I’ve never felt more alone.

It’s because of me that Papa’s here in the hospital.

If he dies, the coroner can put whatever he wants on the paperwork, but the truth is he’s going to die of a broken heart . . . and I’m the one who broke it.

Finally, Mom speaks. “Do you feel any shame at all about what you’ve done?”

“Mom, I—”

“Quiet!” Mom thunders, getting out of her chair to tower over me. She’s not that tall, but right now, I feel like I’m five years old again and she’s a giant that I have to crane my neck to look up to. “Just shut your mouth, Violet! You . . . you lied to us! You lied to your family, you lied to me, your own mother! Why? What reason could you have for this . . . this charade?