Page 113 of Bridesmaid for Hire
After I ensure that I’m not going to cough…or throw up, despite the nausea starting to roll around in my stomach from the rocking yacht, I say, “I don’t think she wants to get married yet. She’s very dedicated to her business and I don’t want to interfere with that.”
There. Great answer. Shows that I care about her and her career, and that she’s a committed businesswoman. Not sure I could have done a better job.
Reginald nods. “Sounds to me like she’s not convinced yet that you’re the right man.”
Or not.
“Dad,” Hardy says with some censure in his voice.
“What?” he asks, as if he didn’t just insult me offhandedly. “Maggie’s a brilliant woman, and she deserves someone to offer her the same sort of brilliance in her life, someone like…Hudson.”
Uh…pardon me?
“Jesus, Dad.” Hudson rolls his eyes and then looks at me. “Don’t listen to him. I’m not stepping in on your girl. There’s no interest there.”
“You mentioned how beautiful she looked the other night,” Reginald says, making me want to snap my cigar in half.
“Dad, what are you doing?” Hardy asks, looking irritated.
Jude remains calm, but his eyes shift away, betraying his discomfort.
“You asked me if I thought Maggie looked beautiful,” Hudson says. “I said yes. I wasn’t seeking to compliment her. She’s clearly in love with Brody.” Hudson gestures to me.
If only she was.
Hudson turns toward me, eyes wide. “I’d never do anything to jeopardize your relationship with Maggie. I respect the fact that you two are in love and with each other.”
“I appreciate that, man,” I say even though it’s taking everything in me not to push Reginald over the side of the boat. Old man overboard.
God, wouldn’t that be fucking great.
But not wanting to make anyone else uncomfortable and to avoid any more awkwardness from Reginald, I hand Hudson my cigar. “I’m actually going to grab a drink. Does anyone need anything?”
“We’re good,” Reginald says, a smarmy look on his face.
Jesus, this guy.
At first, he seemed decent, down-to-earth and really generous. But as I think back over the past few days, his little comments and microaggressions, I’ve realized something very important: he’s not kind, he’s calculated.
And he’s not a fan of me at all.
And I have no idea why.
Too exhausted and queasy to figure it out, I take off toward the dining area near the center of the yacht where drinks and food are laid out for the picking. I move right past the food—for the second time since I’ve been around these people, I can feel myself growing more nauseous by the second.
I reach for a can of water and snap it open. I want to wash the taste of smoke out of my mouth, but I think it’s going to take a heavy-duty bristle brush and some bleach to accomplish that.
“Hey,” I hear Hudson say as he comes up behind me, looking apologetic.
“Dude, it’s really okay,” I say. “I’m not offended or anything.”
“I appreciate you saying that, but I just want to apologize for my dad. He can be…a bit of an asshole sometimes. And I don’t know why, but he seems to sense weakness in you and he’s pressing your buttons.”
Shit, not what I was expecting to hear. How reminiscent of those words my dad used to say to me.
“You’ll always do well, Brody, but you’re not meant for greatness. People will always appreciate you because you’re humble but get the job done.”In other words, I’ll never aspire to much. Seems Dad was right, because the great and mighty Reginald Hopper seems to see the same lacking in me.Fuck.
“He sees weakness in me?”
