Page 42 of Orc'd At A Wedding
Good.
"I have spent this entire weekend watching you people take shots at Bliss. Small comments. Passive-aggressive questions. Comparisons to her perfect cousin. Reminders that she's single, that she's not good enough, that she's somehow failed you all by simply existing as herself."
Aunt Susan opens her mouth.
"I wasn't finished."
She closes it.
"You want to know what I see when I look at your daughter?" I don't wait for an answer. "I see someone who is smart enough to build a successful career, strong enough to survive this toxic family dynamic, and brave enough to walk into a wedding where she knew she'd be judged and still hold her head high. I see someone worth defending. Worth protecting. Worth choosing every single day without a contract or a paycheck involved."
Bliss's hand tightens on my arm. I can feel her trembling.
"So no, sir. I will not be accepting your money. I will not be naming a price. And I will not tolerate you speaking to her this way ever again."
Her father's face has gone from red to purple.
"How dare you?—"
"How dareyou." I let the full weight of my size press into the space between us. "She is your daughter. Not your employee. Not your disappointment. Not your punching bag for every insecurity you project onto her. Yourdaughter. And you treat her like she's something you're embarrassed to claim."
"That's not?—"
"It is exactly true." I cut him off again. "I've been here less than forty-eight hours, and even I can see it. Every conversation. Every introduction. Every time someone asks about her life, you deflect or change the subject like her accomplishments aren't worth mentioning. When was the last time you told her you were proud of her? When was the last time you defended her instead of tearing her down?"
Dead silence.
"That's what I thought."
Aunt Susan finds her voice. "You can't just waltz in here and lecture us about family dynamics. You don't know anything about?—"
"I know enough." I turn my attention to her, and she actually flinches. "I know that Bliss spent twenty minutes hiding in a bathroom before this wedding even started because the thought of facing you people made her physically ill. I know she's been bracing for impact every time someone opens their mouth because she's learned to expect cruelty disguised as concern. I know that every single one of you has spent this weekend trying to prove she's not good enough, and not one of you has stopped to ask ifyou'regood enough forher."
"This is ridiculous," the ex-boyfriend pipes up from his position near the bar. "She paid you to be here. Everyone knows it. Stop acting like?—"
"Like what?" I turn on him, and he actually takes a step back. "Like I have functional emotional intelligence? Like I'm capable of seeing her value without a dollar amount attached? You had her, and you were stupid enough to let her go. That's on you. Don't project your regret onto me."
"I'm not?—"
"You are. You've been circling her all weekend like a vulture, trying to undermine her happiness because it kills you that she moved on. Newsflash. She moved on. You're irrelevant. Accept it and leave her alone."
His girlfriend—the one who threw the wine—makes an offended noise.
I ignore her.
I turn back to Bliss's father, who is now gripping his checkbook so hard the leather is creaking.
"You want to write a check?" I gesture at the book. "Fine. Write one to your daughter. Apologize for making her feel like she has to perform for your approval. Apologize for turning her life into a competitive sport she can't win. Apologize for standing here tonight and assuming the only way a man would want her is if she paid him."
"You have no right?—"
"I have every right. She gave it to me when she trusted me to stand beside her this weekend. And unlike every single one of you, I will not betray that trust by treating her like she's disposable."
Bliss's breathing has gone shaky. I can feel tears threatening at her composure, and I am done.
Done with this family. Done with this performance. Done pretending this is anything other than what it is.
Toxic. Corrosive. Unacceptable.
