her mom. Her eyes are sad, and in those beautiful sea-colored pools, I see a little girl who longs to be loved.
She’s quiet, withdrawn. Unhappy.
And I can’t stand to see my baby girl unhappy. It breaks my heart and after this visit, I won’t allow it to continue. Good riddance, bon voyage, au revoir, sala kahle. However, you want to say it; goodbye, Mags. Forever.
We’re meeting her at Carabat’s, the restaurant in her hotel, the very same one where Tori told Jet she only had eyes for me, the memory making it my favorite place to eat.
Tori and I arrived thirty minutes before her mother is supposed to meet us so I can get at least one glass of wine in my fiancée before the monster-in-law shows up.
We’re chatting, laughing, drinking, enjoying ourselves as we always do when it’s just us. Mags enters the room, instantly casting a shadow over Tori’s face. My beautiful little girl slumps back in her chair.
Anger rises in my heart.
I remind myself that it’s only one more night, I can do this.
I stand, offering a stiff smile. “Mags! How’s this for your last meal in the city?” And I do mean the very last meal I will ever be purchasing for her.
She glances around, turning her thin nose up in the air. “A restaurant in a hotel lobby? Not exactly my idea of a sendoff, but I guess it will do.”
She takes a seat, her gray eyes cutting to her daughter. “Sit up, Victoria. Don’t slouch.”
Tori sits up a little taller in her chair, releasing a small sigh. “Hi, Mom.”
“I see you’ve already been drinking without me. I guess I’ll have to catch up.” She holds her hand in the air, snapping her fingers to get the waiter’s attention; a move I’m guessing she picked up from one of the old black and white romance movies Tori said she’s obsessed with. She calls out, “Can I get a glass, here?”
Mortified, Tori slumps back down in her chair. I fill her glass of wine to the brim, giving her a reassuring smile. I silently mouth the words, “One more night.”
She shoots me a look of relief, smiles, and takes a huge sip from her glass.
The waiter scurries over with a third wineglass, and I fill it for Mags. “What shall we eat tonight, ladies? Do you want to share some tapas plates?”
She rolls her eyes. “Tapas? Stingy much? I’m having the filet.”
I swear, this woman is trying to collect a dowry for her daughter’s hand through the many purchases she’s made at my expense this week.
I smile. “Of course you are. And you, my love? What will you be having?”
Tori squirms in her seat. “I’m not that hungry. I’ll just have a salad.”
She’s trying to compensate for her mom’s overspending by ordering the cheapest thing on the menu. I put my hand over hers. “I’ll get you a dish of that chicken pasta you like. You can just eat what you want, and we’ll take home the rest.”
Daddy understands her lack of desire to eat, but I also keep a close eye on my girl to make sure she’s not withering away this week, her appetite often spoiled by her mother’s outrageous behavior.
And I’ve told Tori time and time again this week—the money means nothing to me without having her at my side to spend it on. And that generosity extends to her family.
Or did, at least, until this woman pissed me off to no end.
Tori shoots me a look of gratitude. “Thank you.”
The attention being off of her for two seconds, Mags interjects herself into our conversation. “Victoria, what are you going to serve at the wedding? Don’t tell me you’re going to do fish or chicken. That’s so tacky. You have to do steak. Expensive steak. And many courses.”
Tori cringes. “Mom, you know that Bachman weddings are private, just for the family. The afterparty for people back home will just be a small gathering. Maybe even just dinner at a restaurant.”
Her mother barks, “Nonsense! You have to have a second, public wedding. It has to be huge. You can do your little vow ceremony in the Village, but then we have to have a proper wedding. Somewhere beautiful. Somewhere so grand the town will talk about it for years to come!”
Tori asks, “For who, Mom?”
Her mom cries, “What do you mean? For you, of course! Don’t you want a real wedding, with a reception and a sit-down dinner? Drinks, dancing, a band?”
Tori shakes her