Chapter 493
Chapter 493:
Fabric choices? When was I meant to do that? There were two months to go.
That was enough time, right?
Now that I thought about it, I hadn’t even asked Ashton who he was inviting.
My list had about three people: Yvaine, and maybe a couple of colleagues.
Neither of my parents was on the list: one hated me, and the other was in jail. Ashton’s family situation wasn’t much better: his dad was faking illness to avoid being shipped to some godforsaken post in Africa, and his stepmother had finally learned to keep quiet and stay out of sight.
I doubted he’d want either of them there. And if he did, he’d find a way to keep them on a leash.
Yvaine was obviously going to be my maid of honor. I hadn’t asked her, but it went without saying. Just like I’d raise hell if I wasn’t hers.
But Ashton’s best man? Maybe Cassian. They were close. But Cassian was Yvaine’s ex, and those two still had leftover beef. Her new boyfriend—the young, painfully hot internet sensation Cade Lawson—was bound to be there too.
Ex meets current. Cue drama.
I pictured it and realized, to my horror, I was actually looking forward to it.
Not that I wanted a disaster, but a bit of chaos at a wedding made it memorable, didn’t it?
“You’re insane,” was Yvaine’s response when I rang her and shared my thoughts. “If anyone causes a scene at my wedding, they’re cut from my life. Permanently. And that’s me being generous p>
“It was just a passing thought,” I said. “Not like I want it to happen p>
“Getting cold feet p>
“What? No. Why would you say that?” I frowned, suddenly remembering Ashton asking me the same thing just days ago.
“You’d rather daydream about a possible fistfight than focus on your actual wedding p>
𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓻𝓮𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓼 𝓽𝓸 g𝓪𝗅𝗇𝓸ν𝓮𝗅𝓈﹐ⅽ𝗼𝗺
“I said it was just a thought.” I was feeling a touch defensive.
“You haven’t sent out the invites p>
“Ashton’s sorting that. You know I’ve got work p>
“You haven’t even asked me to be your maid of honor p>
“You are my maid of honor. That’s so obvious, it doesn’t need saying p>
“You’re missing the point p>
“Which is p>
“You’re just waiting for the wedding to happen, like some passive bystander, instead of the bride. Other women go full-on bridezilla with only two months left. You don’t even care if the dress fits p>
“Ashton’s handling it, trust him p>
“Yeah, yeah, I know. He’s got taste, he’s got connections, he’s run a business empire. Surely he can stage-manage a wedding in his sleep. That’s not the point. It’s always Ashton this, Ashton that. Where’s your hand in any of it, Mira p>
I got up and stepped out onto the balcony.
I’d had a shower after coming in, and the night air was sharp.
Still, I felt suddenly flushed, like I couldn’t breathe. I needed the cold.
“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? Wi-Fi cut out? Or did I just hit a nerve p>
“You don’t have to sound so bloody smug about it,” I muttered.