Free Say Forever by Tara West Page B

fluff-ball, eating shrimp pastries and sipping champagne. No, not champagne. Damn. Ginger ale.
    I get the feeling my wedding won't be fun at all, which sucks because Andrés is right. This is my special day, not my mom's. Even though I don't want to disappoint her, I come to a decision while I breathe in garbage fumes. I love her, but there is no way I'm letting her take my wedding from me. I'll listen to what my mom and this planner have to say, and then if I disagree, I'll let them know I want my wedding done my way. End of discussion.
    I've been brow-beaten my whole life, first by my emotionally abusive adoptive mother and then by my ex-fiancé. I refuse to be bossed around on the most special day of my life. I just hope my mom can forgive me.
    ***
    I cringe at the sound of 80s Christmas music filtering in from speakers overhead. My mom and the wedding planner are drinking red wine, chatting like old friends in the back of the restaurant. Behind them, an expansive window offers a beautiful view of Lake Travis and its multi-million dollar homes. But I don't give a damn about the lake right now. As I look into the wedding planner's familiar thin veneer of a fake smile, all I care about is getting the fuck out of this restaurant, after I expose the witch to my mom.
    Mom stands when I approach. She's practically beaming ear to ear when she motions to the jackal sitting across from her. "Christina, this is Nora Richards, our new planner."
    Nora abruptly stands up, nearly knocking over her chair in the process. Uh, oh. Someone's been hitting the red wine early today. No surprise there. Nora was always a lush.
    "Hello, Christina, darling, it's so nice to see you again." She runs a hand through her dyed brassy red up-do and then spreads her arms wide, as if she's expecting me to hug her.
    As if.
    Un-fucking-believable.
    I take a step back and scowl. Nora's face is so tight from excessive plastic surgery, it's hard to gage her reaction, but I think I see her lips twitch in annoyance. Either that, or her collagen air bags have sprung a leak.
    I look at my mom, trying my best to keep my tone even. "Nora is my adoptive mother's best friend."
    Mom gasps and splays a hand across her chest. "What?"
    I cock my hand on my hip and shoot Nora another glare before turning back to my mom. "Can we go now?"
    I don't want to spend another second in this woman's company. When I was a kid and my dad had to go out of town on business, Nora would come over and get shit-faced with my adoptive mom. On those nights, she would order me a pizza and force me to stay in my room. I didn't squawk. It was better than watching them pop pills and badmouth their husbands.
    I'd usually find them sprawled on the living room floor, along with a few empty wine bottles. The DVD player would still be showing some porno with several guys with big dicks banging one chick. One time, I even found a vibrator in the bathroom sink. It was still buzzing around and rattling the drain. I never used that bathroom again. When I got older, I'd spend the night at Karri's house when Nora came over. I'd come home to find condom wrappers in the garbage. This was after my dad raped me, so I didn't tell the asshole. He probably knew about it, anyway.
    "Nora." Mom looks at the planner with horror in her eyes. "You're Vivian Duval's best friend."
    Surprisingly, Nora's still keeping a straight face. It must be hard for her to maintain the illusion that she's not a total bitch for this long. Either that or her surgeon's done a heck of a job tightening up her skin so she can't move her facial muscles. I swear I could bounce a quarter off her cheek.
    When Nora reaches for her wine glass, I take another step back and brace myself. I also shoot my mom a warning look. Last time Nora had a glass of red wine in her hand, The Cobra took it from her and threw it in my face.
    Nora tosses the liquid down her throat before setting the glass back on the table. She picks up a cloth napkin and daintily dabs