“Is there anything I can get for you?”
“It’s all good, just as long as Jessabel doesn’t catch me eating.”
I saw Jess then. She wore the same soft pink dress as the other bridesmaids, only hers had a plunging neckline to reveal cleavage.
She pointed at me. “You are smokin’ hot in that dress, mamí. Come give me sugars. That limo’s walking as bowlegged as Polly, amirite? Fucking Russians. Grab some bubbly. Catch up.”
I guessed we’d smoothed over our tiff. One day, though, I would make her understand the law of diminishing returns.
I snagged a couple of flutes off a server’s tray, handing one to Natalie. After a sip, I knew champagne remained a no-go for me.
“Were you eating a pastry?” Jess demanded of Natalie. Stern Jess was a force of nature. “Don’t you dare touch that gown with your grubby Natalie paws. You might have no appreciation for couture, but I spent tens and tens of thousands of your dollars on this! You could at least be appreciative.” She turned to snap her fingers at Polly. The girl tripped over herself and everyone else to get to Jess—who promptly tugged her bodice down to a sexier height. “What are we? Fucking Amish, like Cat?”
No longer! I stuck out my tongue at her.
Rebecca wended through the packed room to reach Natalie. Her eyes watered at the sight of her daughter. “My little girl.” She sniffled.
“Oh, Mom,” Natalie said in an aggrieved tone, but she was grinning widely.
When Rebecca’s tears began to fall, Jess snapped, “She’s not walking the plank; she’s merely getting married—to a shady Russian mail-order groom. Did you take the pill I gave you? Take the pill. And I will tongue-check you.”
Rebecca rolled her eyes behind her glasses. “Just to stop you from haranguing me, Jessica!” She plucked something out of her clutch, holding it up with a defiant look.
Jess’s eyes went wide. “Hold up—”
But Rebecca was already washing it down with champagne. “It’s just a Valium, right?”
Jess shook her head no as she said, “Yes, absolutely. In theory.” Oh, Dios mío.
Rebecca thought she was joking. “Now can I cry over my little girl?”
“Ask me that again in twenty, Becks. . . .”
After that, we all chattered about nothing in particular, everyone excited, spirits high. I wished I could have had an experience like this, surrounded by friends and family for such an important event.
“All right, ladies.” Jess clapped her hands. “T minus fifteen. Bathroom? Anyone? Speak now—or forever hold your piss.”
Polly dashed out like she was taking fire, Rebecca followed her, unsteadily. Jess was right on her tail.
Shortly after, Jess returned to pull me out into the hall. Rebecca was leaning against the wall with a dreamy expression on her face.
“What’s up?” I asked.
In a hushed voice, Jess said, “Natalie does not need to know this, but I might’ve accidentally given her mom the molly I was saving for tonight. You’re officially on Rebecca Is Rolling duty.” She turned to the woman. “See, Becks? Doesn’t everything feel softer now?”
Mierda. “It’s not a problem.” My mantra. On the bright side, the woman’s tears had dried right up!
“Can you take her to the pavilion?”
“On it.”
As I was leading Rebecca away, I heard Natalie say, “Has anybody seen my mom?”
Jess loudly said, “Hot mamí’s with her. They’re already on their way.”
I smiled up at the starry-eyed lady. “We’re almost there, Rebecca. Here we go. We’re turning left—our other left. Okay, muy bien.”
The pavilion was spectacular with its sky-high pitched ceiling, arching rafters, and gleaming wood floor. Peonies, lilies, and lavish orchids graced the area, scenting the air. Past the immense plate-glass windows was a lit courtyard with hanging lanterns reflecting off the snow.
When I found Tom, he took Rebecca’s hand with a frown. She petted his tie.
“Everything okay?” he asked me.
Bob and weave. “She had some champagne?” As I said that she licked his face like a stamp.
Baffled, Tom said, “Uh, Cat, will you please stay with her while I walk Natalie down the aisle?”
“You got it. Not a problem. Rebecca, we’re over here.” I tugged her to the front pew, eventually getting her to sit. I gazed around for anything to keep her attention—or possibly a pacifier and a glow stick. Coming up empty, I pointed at her dress hem. “Oh, look, Rebecca. It’s the end of your dress! It’s frilly frilly frilly.”
She grew fascinated with it.
This whole weekend was turning out surreal. I was at the wedding of a Russian mobster’s daughter to a cherished hit man, sitting next to a mother-of-the-bride who was tripping balls.
My . . . boyfriend (shivers) was in the mafiya as well. Oh, and a billionaire.
Aleks and three groomsmen entered then from another drawing room, taking their places at the altar. They were supposed to line up and wait for the bridesmaids. So where was Máxim?
Natalie’s groom was dashing in his crisp tux, yet he still looked dangerous with his tats and close-cropped hair. He was also clearly nervous, pulling at his collar, craning his head, trying to get a look at Natalie.
His nervousness made me go aww. A man who ate bullets for breakfast truly was afraid—that she’d get away.
Then . . . Máxim entered.
When I got my first look at him in a tux, I sucked in a breath, my arm flying out to the side, as if I’d been in a car wreck.