Page 97 of Personal Foul
“I have some bacon as well,” Marisol says. “Would you like some also?”
After glancing at Charity, I nod again. “Yes, please. For both of us. Thank you.”
“Thank you,” Charity murmurs as well.
Marisol smiles and nods. “Of course. My pleasure.”
I usher Charity to the table with my hand on her low back, where my parents and sister are already having breakfast. “No Cameron this morning either?”
Holding a hand in front of her mouth, Victoria shakes her head. After she swallows, she says, “No, he’s spending the morning with his parents. They’re in town for the party. And they’re staying at our place.”
“And why are you staying here again?” I ask. “Do you not get along with your future in-laws?”
“Dylan!” Mom scolds.
Victoria waves her off. “It’s fine, Mom. Dylan’s just being a butthead.”
Now Mom turns her censure on her daughter. “Victoria!”
“Anyway,” Victoria turns back to me, “to answer your question, I’m staying here because Mom wanted me on hand for all of the last-minute party decisions.”
Mom looks almost affronted by this statement. “Well,” she says defensively, “if you’d been more hands-on throughout the decision-making process, most of this would’ve been handled already.”
“All you did was override every single one of my decisions, Mom. At a certain point it didn’t seem like my input actually mattered.”
“Well, you don’t seem to have any problem making decisions about the actual wedding. And I’m not overriding you with that.”
That’s right. The venue. I forgot to find out what happened with that.
I glance at Charity to check in with her while my mom and sister bicker. She has her elbows on the table, her hands clasped in front of her mouth to hide her smile.
Once the food is ready, she ducks her head and digs in. At least the attention is on Victoria now, and Mom and Dad aren’t picking on Charity.
“Enough, Mom! Cameron and I have decided on the venue. I understand that you wish it were bigger. But that’s where we are getting married.”
I might be taking my life in my own hands, but I decide to involve myself. Leaning forward on the table, I look past my sister to get Mom’s attention. “Just think of how exclusive an event it will be if the venue is smaller.”
Mom fixes her glare on me. “This doesn’t concern you, first of all. And second of all, even at a bigger venue, it would be plenty exclusive.”
“Low supply and high demand is a recipe for the chosen few to feel particularly exalted,” Victoria says. “I’m the business major. Believe me, it’s simple economics. Your connections who are important enough to receive an invitation will see it as you bestowing a much greater favor than if there were more invitations available.”
Mom grumbles some more, but seems to accept that premise. At least for now. Charity and I finish breakfast fairly quickly, staying out of the conversation for the most part.
It’s almost a relief when she leaves to visit her mom. Not because I’m excited to be away from her, but because it means my parents can’t be dicks to her if she’s not here.
Granted, they were fine during breakfast. Although, in this case, fine means they barely spoke to her. Other than a cursory good morning, they barely even acknowledged her presence.
I suppose that’s the best I can expect, particularly under the circumstances. As stressed out as Victoria is about the engagement party and the wedding planning, Mom is even more so. Because for her it’s not just about celebrating an engagement, it’s about using that engagement to further her and Dad’s professional and political aspirations. That would stress anyone out.
I hate to see her hijacking Victoria’s happiness that way, though. I’m glad Victoria was able to put her foot down about the venue. If she can limit the amount of people Mom and Dad can invite, it will also help limit the likelihood of her reception getting hijacked for a political stunt.
We head to the party venue shortly after Charity leaves. I’m not sure why my presence is necessary, but I was told to come along in no uncertain terms.
Since Charity took my car to her mom’s, I don’t exactly have easy access to another mode of transportation. I mean, I guess I could get an Uber if it came to that. But it’s easiest in these situations to just do what I’m told.
At least I know Charity is safe from my parents’ machinations. For now.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
