Page 66 of Break Out

“You almost ready to go?” Brody asks, peeking his head into the bathroom where I’m putting the finishing touches on my hair and makeup for the rehearsal and dinner.

“Yep,” I answer, pinning the last piece of stray hair into place and surveying myself in the mirror. I watched at least a dozen YouTube videos on how to do a French twist, and it didn’t turn out half bad.

“I’m not too dressed up, am I?” he asks, tugging at his collar.

I turn around to take in his whole outfit—black shorts and a maroon collared shirt. “Nope, your outfit is perfect. I’m ready, just need to grab my purse.” I smooth a hand down the pale-blue strapless dress and straighten the strap on my left sandal.

Brody nods and backs out of the bathroom. After one last glance at myself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door, I walk out to find him sprawled on the couch, sipping from a bottle of water.

“Want some?” He holds the bottle out to me.

“I’m good,” I say, and he caps the bottle and gets to his feet. We head out of our suite and toward the elevators.

In the lobby, I spot Bri and Devon standing off to the side with a few of the others that are in the wedding. We make our way over, but before we reach them, the wedding planner—Maggie—is calling for us to follow her outside to where the ceremony will take place.

“Where’s Mother?” I ask Bri, glancing around as we follow Maggie.

She grimaces before saying, “No idea. This isn’t like her.”

Maggie comes to a halt at the edge of what I can tell is the aisle, chairs already set out on either side for tomorrow. I’m surprised they set everything up already. She claps her hands together, but before she can say anything, the door to the hotel is flung open, and my mother comes charging outside. Arthur hurries after her.

“This won’t work,” Mother says as she marches over to Maggie.

“I’m sorry. What won’t work, Mrs. Fairchild?” Maggie asks, turning her attention to my mother.

“This. All of this.” My mother waves her hands around. “This is not what I asked for. This beach is not big enough. That hideous arch will not do for an altar.” She points at the arch decorated in pink flowers at the end of the aisle.

Bri snorts out a laugh next to me, quickly pretending to cough to cover it up. I shoot her a look and she shakes her head, her hand over her mouth.

“Mrs. Fairchild, this was in the email I received last week with updated requests for the ceremony.”

“Well, I didn’t send it. This will not do,” She repeats, crossing her arms.

“I sent it, Mom,” Clara says, stepping up to them. “I’ll take care of this,” she says to Maggie before putting a hand on Mother’s arm and attempting to guide her away.

Mother glares at Clara, ripping her arm away. I look over at Brody who’s watching the scene, wide-eyed. A quick glance around confirms that the rest of the wedding party is as transfixed as Brody is. I feel like crawling into a hole and disappearing. Talk about secondhand embarrassment.

“Maybe we should talk about this somewhere else,” I say, glancing over at Bri who dips her chin at me and we walk over to Mother and Clara who seem to be having a silent battle. Maggie stays silent, her face red as she wrings her hands. Thad appears out of nowhere and stands next to me.

“It’s alright, Maggie. Why don’t you go over the order of events with everyone else. We’ll sort this out and let you know if anything needs to change,” I say.

Maggie gives me a small smile, looking relieved to be given an out as she steps away from us and asks the rest of the wedding party to follow her. When it’s just my family, Brody, Chet, and Devon left, I turn to my mother. “What is going on?”

“Oh, butt out, Aubrey. No one asked you,” she snaps.

Brody growls next to me, and before I can so much as blink, he’s wrapped his arm around me, tucking me into his side, and is facing down my mother who’s glaring at me.

“Mrs. Fairchild, with all due respect. Actually”—he clears his throat and glances over at me before turning back to my mother—“scratch that. Since you can’t show Aubrey respect, why should I show you any?” He shifts against me, standing taller, his body vibrating with anger as he continues. “How dare you talk to her like that? I’ve stood by all week and watched you talk down to her. Aubrey is trying to help the situation. You don’t deserve your daughters. Not with the way you treat them.”

It’s only because I’m watching my mother closely that I see her jerk back slightly at Brody’s outburst, blinking a few times as if someone threw water in her face. It’s satisfying to see.

Good. For a second, I think she’s going to apologize, but she doesn’t, recovering and turning her gaze to Clara instead. I sag into Brody, and he tightens his grip on me.

“And you.” She points at her. “How dare you?”

Clara rears back. “How dare I? This is my wedding, Mom. Or did you forget?” Chet wraps his arm around Clara’s waist but wisely says nothing.

Before Mother can say anything else, Arthur steps in. “Beatrice, let the girl have it the way she wants it.”