Drunk in Love Read online

  I shake my head. “Oh no! There are over two hundred golf courses in the Valley, please tell me they did this anywhere other than the one we’re getting married at. Tell me they weren’t at Desert Mountain.”

  “I wish I could. They’ve been blacklisted. Neither of them are allowed back.”

  “You have got to be kidding me! I just okayed the proof on the invitations!” Desert Mountain is the only place on our Plan B list that could handle our head count indoors, was still available, and that we can afford. If we lose this venue, I don’t know what we’re going to do.

  Finn puts his hand on my knee and uses his low, sweet tones that he only uses when the vein in my forehead looks as though it’s going to burst. “I wish I were, babe. I begged the manager to reconsider, but he said it’s corporate policy. If we have our wedding there, our fathers can’t come.”

  At this point, I’m not sure I ever want to see either of them again, but sadly that’s not an option. We can’t have a wedding with only our mother’s in attendance. They’d hold it over our heads till the end of time and I refuse to give them any leverage.

  “So now we have no photographer and no venue? What do we have?”

  He puts his arm around me. “We have each other and the makings of one helluvah screenplay.”

  4

  TWO WEEKS BEFORE THE WEDDING

  “When did people get so many damn food allergies?” Finn asks.

  We’re going through the RSVP cards and once we’ve had enough tequila we’re going to attempt to fill out the seating chart. We both think we should just have open seating and just let everyone duke it out, but that idea was universally shot down by all our parents.

  “I know. My list of specialty meals is almost as long as our guest list,” I reply as I open another card.

  Finn adds the name on his card to the spreadsheet then pours us each another shot. “Let’s just skip the food and just serve booze. Think of the money we’ll save!” Finn takes his shot, then nudges mine across the table toward me. “Drink up. We are way too sober to try to figure out how to organize tables of people who won’t want to stab each other with the steak knives.”

  Chuckling, I look at the RSVP card and the name takes me by such surprise I have to do a double take. “Finn, why is Lisa Williams RSVPing to our wedding?”

  “Lisa Williams? You mean my ex?”

  Ex is such a non-descript term. It can mean someone he dated for a few weeks, or, in this case, a high school sweetheart whom he proposed to after college but called off the wedding. Someone who his entire family—mother, father, grandparents, everyone—agrees was the best thing to ever happen to him. It’s the only thing in the entire universe they can agree on.

  I hold up the card. “Apparently, she’s coming and she’s a vegan. She’s requesting a special meal.”

  “What?” He snatches the card from my hand. “How the hell did she get invited?”

  “I was just about to ask you that,” I mumble, before taking my shot then pouring another.

  He stares at the card in disbelief. “Kitty,” he sneers.

  “Your mother invited her?”

  He runs his fingers through his slightly shaggy blond hair. “I’m assuming. I suppose it could have been my father. Her parents are one of the few couples who still see my parents. Both my mom and my dad had Mr. and Mrs. Williams on their invite list. I’m assuming one of them extended an invite to Lisa.”

  “It’s so nice to finally see your parents working together,” I snarl. “If only it was on something like raising their teenage son, rather than trying to ruin our wedding!”

  “I understand why you feel the way you do. If I were in your shoes and your parents invited Jimmy Whatshisname—”

  “Johnny Waterhouse.”

  “Whatever. If he were invited, I’d be ripshit pissed. But I don’t think she was invited to cause trouble. My parents have spent the last few months manipulating and bullying to get everything they want for this wedding. They invited every single person they know or have ever met. There’s no way they would have done that if they were planning on bringing Lisa to make a scene.”

  As uncomfortable as I am with this, he has a point. If the guest list were just family and close friends, that would be one thing. But they’ve invited business associates and society acquaintances. I can’t imagine they would want some big romantic showdown in front of them. “Fine,” I say reluctantly. I slam back a shot, then pour another and down it.. “Talk to her. Make sure she understands she’s been invited as a guest, and remind her there is no audience participation.”

  I pray to God I don’t live to regret this.

  5

  WEDDING DAY

  “We found the rings!”

  Oh, thank God!

  When Stacey’s sister showed up this afternoon, we were expecting a flower girl, but as it turns out, Stacey told them we needed a flower girl and ring bearer without consulting me. I tried to explain that we really don’t need or want one, let alone two, but then I had Stacey, Tracey, and the two kids screaming at me. To shut them up and ward off a migraine, I just gave in. These two hellions have been running around wreaking havoc ever since. Somehow, Stacey managed to get ahold of the rings and she gave them to the four and seven year olds. Less than five seconds after she placed my rings in those sticky hands, they were gone. But now they’ve retuned, so I suppose that’s a check in the win column.

  “See dear,” Finn’s grandmother says. “It’s a blessing the minister’s over an hour late. We had plenty of time to find the rings. I’d consider it an act of God. A miracle.”

  Actually, the real miracle is how I’ve been able to keep my cool despite everything that has gone wrong. The minister didn’t show up for the rehearsal last night, and he’s over an hour late today. No one from the church can get in touch with him. And because we inundated the caterer with a huge list of food allergies and sensitivities of the guests, she completely forgot that Finn is allergic to latex. One of her workers put on the wrong set of gloves while prepping and now everything‘s contaminated. Poor Finn found out the hard way when he nibbled on some Gouda and his throat closed-up. Thank God he remembered his epi-pen. He’s fine now, but has a horrible headache and feels nauseous. The golf club gave him a massage room to lay down in until the minister arrives.

  Then, as if this wasn’t bad enough, the florist delivered the wrong flowers. We wanted a variety of white flowers: clean, simple, classic. The flowers they delivered aren’t even flowers at all. It’s a bunch of cactus arrangements. Even the bouquet is cactus. I loathe cactus! When I confronted the delivery man, he showed me the order form, signed by Kitty Hayes. Why didn’t anyone ever tell me never to fuck with a beauty queen’s dress?

  “Yeah, well, if God doesn’t get him here in the next ten minutes, Judge Hoff is up. He got here on time.”

  Before she can snap back a retort, my father taps me on the shoulder. “Hey, honey, can you wrangle up more of whatever those snacks were? Stacey’s sorta hypoglycemic, so if she doesn’t eat soon . . . let’s just say, it’s not good.”

  She’s not hypoglycemic, she’s just always bitchy and uses her, “low blood sugar,” as an excuse. I point across the room. “I think she ate an entire cheese platter. She’s fine.” He looks at Stacey with a level of concern he’s never shown to me.

  As though she has a sixth sense for when my father is grating on my nerves, my mother storms over. “If your concubine is hungry, she can fetch her snacks herself. Our daughter’s a bride, not a waitress!” With the harshest scowl I’ve ever seen on her face, she looks my father up and down. I cannot believe you’re actually wearing that.”

  Dad looks down at his head to toe mosquito netting. “The netting is better than me not coming, isn’t it?”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” I mumble.

  “You look like a fool,” my mother chides. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to your daughter on her wedding day. Think about how the pictures will look. You’re probab
ly going to trip her on the way down the aisle.”

  My father points his finger at me. “I warned her. I told her I couldn’t be exposed to the mosquitos. She chose to have the wedding outside, so this is what she gets.”

  Mom throws her hands in the air, her voice escalating with every word. “Maybe if you hadn’t gotten her kicked out of the last location, she could have had the wedding inside, but no-o! Just like everything else in your life, you have to make it all about you. It’s the George Show. And may I remind you, we live in Arizona! There are no mosquitos.”

  “Oh, shut up, Jillian!” my dad snaps.

  Everyone in the staging room is staring at us, hanging on every word, just to see who is going to administer the next blow. “How fun, a walk down memory lane before I walk down the aisle. It’s like a flashback to my childhood.”

  “Minister Joe is here!” my sister shouts from across the room. “I’ll go get Finn.”

  “Thank God,” I mutter. “Okay people. Let’s get this show on the road.” If we don’t hurry up, we’ll never get done and cleaned up before our rental time and there’s a huge fee if we go over. Not only am I just too worn out to deal with another problem, but I don’t want to spend one more penny on this catastrophe than I have to.

  Just as that thought runs through my head, a sharp pang rips through my heart. I shouldn’t feel this way about my wedding. I should be savoring every moment, not be praying for it to be over. I’ve been more excited to get a flu shot than I am about my wedding, and I’m petrified of needles.

  How did this happen? I look around the staging room at my parents fighting, Finn’s grandmothers passive-aggressively chiding each other, Peter making out with his barely legal girlfriend, and Finn’s grandfather having to be held back by my sister to keep him from killing Peter. Why the hell did we think this was a good idea?

  “Do you want me to give the rings back to Stevie?” Stacey asks. “He promises he won’t lose them this time.”

  “No!” shouts everyone who’s been on their hands and knees looking for the rings for the last hour.

  “Fine.” Stacey slams the rings on the small table in the back of the room. She covers herself in mosquito netting, then stares at my father. “Let’s go, George. They’re being mean to me and I want to sit.”

  Dad looks back and forth between me and Stacey, then follows her to their seats.

  My mother gestures toward the door. “My ex-husband ladies and gentlemen. Father of the year!”

  My sister stares at my father as he walks out the door. “He’s not going to walk you down the aisle?”

  I wave her off. “Stacey couldn’t possibly be expected to go to their seats alone.”

  She puts her arm around me. “You okay?”

  I shrug. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  The music plays and procession begins. As I walk down the aisle, I spot Finn. My poor, sweet Finn. He’s wearing a tux, which he despises, and looks as though he went three rounds with a boa constrictor. His eyes are still puffy and his face is red and blotchy. When he went into anaphylactic shock, he sweated like crazy. Now his hair is sweat crusted, and his shirt is still damp. He looks like he wants to be anywhere but here. But as miserable as he feels, he smiles at me so brightly as I walk toward him I almost don’t notice my parents bickering at each other in the front row.

  “Since we’re running behind, I’m just going to jump right into it,” the minister begins. “Do you Frank—”

  “It’s Finn,” I whisper.

  “Oh, yes. Do you Flynn...”

  “Finn!”

  He stares at me, clearly annoyed, as though I’m being ridiculous. Considering how much we’re paying him, is it really too much to expect he get our names right? “Do you Finn take thee Patty—”

  “Presley,” Finn snaps.

  He sighs like a teenager who’s been asked to do something abysmal, like clean his room or take out the trash. What an imposition! “Do you Frank—”

  Finn throws his hands in the year and shouts, “Oh, for Christ’s sake. It’s do you, Finn, take thee Patty—I mean Presley. And yes, I do. Can we move on, or do you need me to feed you the rest of your lines as well?”

  The minister folds his arms across his chest. “Taking the Lord’s name in vain is a sin, you know.”

  Finn’s face goes from blotchy to tomato red. His fist clenches. Oh shit, I think he might punch the minister! I put my hand on his arm, hoping to calm him. “So is charging three thousand dollars, showing up over an hour and a half late, and not knowing the bride and groom’s names!” he says through gritted teeth.

  The minister opens his mouth to retort when a shout comes from the back of the crowd. “Wait! Stop the wedding!”

  “Oh, sweet Jesus, what now?” I turn around and there’s Lisa standing at the end of the aisle. I turn toward Finn and whisper, “You said she wasn’t coming!”

  “She told me she wouldn’t. I have no idea what she’s doing here.” Finn turns toward Lisa. “Lisa, we talked about this,” Finn says.

  With a huge smile on her face, she walks slowly towards us. “Finn, you can’t get married. Not to her. You and I are meant to be together. We’re each other’s first loves. What we have is so special, nothing could ever compare.” She points at him as she approaches us. “Look at yourself. You don’t look like a happy groom, ecstatic to be marrying your bride. You look miserable. You don’t have to do this. If the reality of spending the rest of your life with this woman makes you look and feel this horrible, then you can’t do it.” She holds out her hand to him. “Take my hand. We’ll get out of here, and you can put this disaster behind you.”

  Finn opens his mouth to reply to her when his dad chimes in. “It’s about damn time! Why the hell do you think I invited you!? For your charming dinner conversation?”

  “Dad!” Finn shouts. “What the hell?”

  My father jumps out of his seat, then yells over Finn in a deep bellowing voice that, even as an adult, makes me quake in fear. “You did this? You told this woman to come here and break up my daughter’s wedding?”

  Not intimidated, Peter gets out of his seat and steps toward my Dad. “Shut it, Mosquito Man. After we played golf, I knew I couldn’t be in the same family with you. There’s no way. This marriage can’t happen.”

  “He has a point there,” Kitty chimes in. She turns to the audience. “You should see what that woman did to my precious family heirloom.” She wags her accusing finger at me. “That girl has no respect.”

  “Don’t talk about my daughter like that, you washed up prom queen,” my mother cries out.

  Kitty gasps. “I was Ms. Arizona.”

  “Maybe a million years ago,” Mom chides.

  Peter points at my dad. “And you still owe me three hundred bucks, by the way.”

  My father stalks toward Finn’s dad. “The hell I do.”

  “You just had to ruin another happy relationship didn’t you, asshole,” Finn’s grandfather shouts as he gets out of his seat and stalks toward Peter.

  “No way, not again. He’s not ruining another marriage,” we hear from the back as Sean pushes his way through the aisle. Barbie screams as he takes a haymaker swing toward Peter, but Peter ducks and Sean hits my father. Stacey screams, “Kick his ass, honey.”

  Then everything combusts. It looks like a bench clearing brawl at a hockey game. Pushing and shoving and punching. It’s mayhem. I haven’t the slightest clue how to stop it, and even if I did, I don’t think I have the energy to try.

  Finn and I stare at each other in disbelief. “Is this really happening?” he asks. “Did the epi-pen not work and I’m actually dead. Is this hell? It has to be. This cannot be the day that we’ve both busted our asses over the past year. This has to be a nightmare!”

  The minister clears his throat then checks his watch. He’s either oblivious to the catastrophe playing out before him, or just couldn’t care less. “Is this thing happening or not, because I’ve got to go.”

  I
snap my head toward him. “Bite me, Reverend. Look around. My wedding has turned into Sodom and Gomorrah. If you don’t want to turn into a pillar of salt, I suggest you shut your trap while we figure out what the hell we’re going to do!”

  He has the sense to back away slowly.

  Finn runs his fingers through is hair. The expression on his face breaks my heart—dejected, broken. He does not look like a man on the happiest day of his life. More like a man being forced to walk the plank. “Presley, I can’t do this. I tried. We tried so damn hard to make this work, but we failed.” He gestures to the chaos. “This is not a wedding, this is a sign telling me to hit the bricks and never look back. Lisa has the right idea.”

  No matter what has been thrown at me, I’ve managed to somehow hold it together, but his words break the dam and all the stress, all the frustration, and disappointment hits me. Tears roll down my cheeks. “What are you saying?”

  He cups my face with his hands then kisses me. “I’m saying I have to go.”

  6

  ONE WEEK LATER

  Dear Family,

  All we wanted was a day about us and you turned it into a day about you. We hope you enjoyed it. Attached, you’ll find pictures from our wedding ceremony on the beach in Fiji. We’re sure that you’re disappointed you didn’t get to see us get married, but you had your chance and you blew it. You’ll also find copies of the bills for the wedding in Phoenix. As the expression goes: you broke it, you bought it. If you ever want to see us again, you’ll pay the bill and grow the hell up.

  We’ll call you when your first grandchild is born.

  Maybe.

  XOXO

  Presley and Finn

  ABOUT ISABELLE RICHARDS

  Isabelle Richards spent years as a speech writer before tackling fiction. An avid reader of all