at her little still life before holding out her phone to snap photos. All she needed was the requisite flute of champagne to complete the image of Lifestyles of the rich and internet-famous.
Then Julia aimed her camera at me and Kat. “The happy newlyweds breakfasting,” she muttered the caption as she snapped.
“That’s not getting posted. Having those guys hovering around constantly is annoying enough.” I pointed with my eyes at the cluster of three hovering by the massive shrubs, apparently waiting for my parents to show up. Man-bun already had his camera pointed at my wife, however.
I was going to have words with him shortly.
Julia twitched a brow. “I don’t post every picture I take. Sometimes I just want to snap one, in the moment. Besides, your wife is beautiful.”
I flicked a glance at Kat. It was true, of course. I’d always thought she was beautiful. But this morning, in this sharply angled morning light in that dress with the slightest of breezes making the long ends of her hair dance, she’d never been more beautiful.
Nevertheless, my favorite was still her naked and spread out on a blanket underneath me.
Julia sat down and began immediately scrolling through the photos she’d just shot. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the magazine people approach our table. I jerked my head around, about to give Man-Bun an earful when I saw it was the reporter instead. What the hell was her name again?
“Katharina and Lucas? I was wondering if we could schedule some time with you after brunch? You’re staying at the Lover’s Villa, correct? Would two p.m. work for you? I promise we won’t take much of your time, just some candid photos of you in conversation and a few prepared questions. Your mother has read through them and pre-approved of them.”
I met Kat’s gaze and hesitated. She looked almost as thrilled about this as I was. “Well—”
“They’re free. There’s nothing on the reunion itinerary until this evening. Our bridge tournament and fireworks aren’t until after dinner.” My mother intoned in her snobby upper class accent. It had been her life’s work to eliminate the midwestern prairies of her childhood from her persona. Looked like she showed up just in time to commit us to this stupid thing against our will.
I narrowed my eyes at her. “How do you know we don’t have our own plans?”
Mother completely ignored me as she scrutinized the table-top from behind her jeweled Bulgari sunglasses.
“Julia, refold that napkin and take your things off the table! They’ll be photographing all this and I had it set this way for a reason,” she ordered in that voice. The one that instinctively made both my sister and I snap our spines perfectly straight before we could even think about what we were doing.
Kat’s wide blue eyes went from me to Julia and then back again. The reporter spoke up then. “Oh just go about your breakfast and we’ll make this candid until you get to the toast. Then we’ll do some posed shots.”
A toast? Suddenly there was a uniformed staff person beside Katya pouring champagne into a glass while another stood behind him with a pitcher of orange juice. mimosas. Great. I loathed champagne.
Julia sprang from her seat, motioning Kat to come with her to the nearby buffet table to fill their plates. I followed behind while Mother gave some instructions to the reporter and Man-Bun.
“No one touch the champagne, it’s for the toast,” Mother commanded.
What the hell was this toast, anyway? Was she trying to pass this off as some kind of upper-crust custom we held regularly?
We sat in silence while the parents took their time to carefully select their food. Man-Bun danced around the table, snapping photos. Oh this was over-the-top annoying. When he moved in close to focus on Kat drinking from her water goblet, I quickly scooted my chair, deliberately setting the leg right on his foot.
“Ouch!” he yelped, hopping backwards and shooting me a dirty look.
“Apologies,” I muttered, hiding a smirk behind my napkin. Hopefully he understood the warning to back away from her. Otherwise I’d have to get more obnoxious. Kat seemed to have noticed his fixation, too. Did I sense some gratitude in her eyes when she looked at me and smiled? After that, she pointedly angled herself away from his line-of-sight. Only then did he move on, turning to take wide shots of the garden. I glared at his back. What a tool.