Once a bully, always a bully, it’s just done in different ways. I will never feel bad about standing up for my sister. Even in front of a world-famous rock star.
Based on our interaction after the blushing bride left, he didn’t feel too bad about it either.
It’s within my best interests to steer clear of Ronan Christian. I’ve not heard anything bad about him, and he doesn’t have much of a reputation for causing trouble or stirring up the paparazzi. He could be very dangerous to my health though.
Diego and Emma come back to the table, both out ofbreath but grinning. They only have eyes for each other and my heart swells. I don’t give a fuck about Francesca anymore.
This is what matters to me. She will never, ever know what that bitch was saying about her before.
A tinkling of glasses and the music lowering has everyone turning toward the head table. Diego kisses Emma, gives me a grin, then heads back to the wedding table. Leaning back and resting one arm on the back of my chair, I sip my champagne like I’m not imagining something evil befalling Francesca.
The father of the bride gives a speech, and it’s lovely and everyone laughs in the right places, and claps when he’s done. He kisses his daughter’s cheek and shakes the groom’s hand. My cynicism is getting the better of me. It’s time to snap out of it.
Instead of watching the main event, I watch the photographer and zone out. In my head I’m planning out the best angles and envisioning how the photographs will look. This guy is good, he’s not drawing attention to himself, focusing on all the right action, while getting reaction from the guests.
Color me impressed.
“To Brandon and Franny!”
My attention snaps back to the people around me. Most of them are on their feet, and they all just yelled that out. I snort laugh and immediately look to Francesca. I have to suck my bottom lip in between my teeth to stop from laughing way too hard to be polite.
Her face. Emma turns to me and her eyes narrow.
“What?”
“How did you do that?”
“Do what?” I give her innocent eyes.
“I don’t know how you did it, but this has you written all over it. Oh my god, did you trick Ronan Christian into calling his new sister-in-law by the name she despises?” she hisses into my ear, grabbing my forearm.
“Me? No. How do you think I did that?”
“Cora.”
Everyone is still cheering and clapping. Francesca is smiling, but it’s pinched. The groom wraps his arm around her shoulder and kisses her cheek, oblivious to his wife’s internal bubbling rage. Maybe I should feel bad, it is her wedding day after all.
Then I remember all the times I found Emma crying in her bedroom. Or eating lunch in the bathroom. Flinching away from the popular kids in school, with them all watching her, as if they’d been making comments, until they saw me coming.
It’s hard, but I keep the smirk off my face, especially when I turn my gaze to Ronan. He’s staring at me with a half tilt to his sexy mouth. Then he arches a brow.
Oh Jesus, what have I let myself in for? He will never know what I’m thinking. If I can fool my sister, I can fool anyone.
“You just can’t help yourself, can you?”
“Seriously, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I drag my eyes from Ronan.
Emma is trying not to smile. She links my arm and pulls me close to her, resting her head against mine for a moment. The click of a shutter draws my attention to the photographer. He gives me a smile before moving on.
I wonder if Franny will be open to letting me have a copy of that photo. Somehow, I doubt it.
“We can leave soon, promise,” Emma tells me. “Let me just watch them cut the cake and have their first dance.”
Fine. “Sure thing, Shortie.”
“Back at ya, Angry Bird.”
“You guys are so cute.”
