“There’s going to be a lot to do.” And brides-to-be always want to plan stuff with their moms. I’m certain when Elizabeth finds someone to marry, she’ll ask Mom to help her select the china and stuff.
“I can handle it,” Paige says, her hands too still.
“We only have four weeks before the ceremony.”
She stares at me, her mouth parted.
“Don’t worry. I hired a wedding planner to arrange everything.”
“I see.” Her voice’s a bit too tart. “It would’ve been nice if you’d talked to me about it first. Just because I agreed to marry you doesn’t mean you get to make all the big decisions without my input.”
“Like?”
“Like moving me out of my apartment without telling me first.”
“I thought you’d be more comfortable if you had your own things.”
Her mouth firms. “That’s totally not the point. The point is, you did it without asking me. Imagine how you’d feel if somebody did the same to you.”
Hmm. I guess she has a point there although I don’t really know why it’s such a big deal. “Do you want to fire the planner and hire one you want?”
“No. That won’t be necessary.”
“But I still want your folks here. I want to get to know them a little.”
She frowns. “It’s only for a year, Ryder. I don’t think it’s a good idea to make them think it’s something more.”
It’s a good, logical argument. My parents getting involved is inevitable—Mom will want to criticize, and Dad will want to say shit just to stir things up. But Paige’s folks live in another state, and they don’t have the resources to drop everything and travel at will.
But I still want to meet them. Love ’em or hate ’em, families shape us. Even those of us who want to pretend that we’re the products of immaculate conception.
There’s a reason why I drove myself to the heights of fame and wealth in Hollywood. Most people just assume I’m ambitious, but that’s only half the story. I don’t want Dad to have any power over me. And without money, he would. I could—theoretically—just not care about money, but that’s easier said than done. If you don’t have it, you can’t even provide the most basic necessities for yourself and your loved ones.
I want to spend more than a couple of insanely hectic days with Paige’s folks. I want to know what kind of people they are, how they view Paige and what kind of upbringing she’s had.
I’m going to invite them all to Los Angeles before the wedding.
After all, I haven’t asked her parents for their blessing, and that’s what most scripts call for. Since it’s not a movie, there won’t be any disapproving father-in-law crap—I’m sure her father will be thrilled that she’s marrying so well.
Yup, it’s going to go splendidly.
Chapter Twenty
Paige
The next few days pass by in a blur.
After the meeting at Samantha Jones’s office, Bethany texts me for the tenth time, and I tell her I’ll talk to her in person about everything on Thursday if she’s up for lunch. Of course she’s up for it.
On Tuesday, Ryder hires Josephine Martinez to assist me. She’s beautiful, with large dark eyes and a mouth that’s perpetually curved into a bemused smile. The glamorous woman always dresses to make a splash, and her job is to make me look like I belong in Ryder’s world as an equal, not as the hired help.
It’s a project that requires some effort. She takes me through half a day of spa, which you’d think would be relaxing, but no. Nobody cares about what I want. It’s what Josephine deems appropriate, and she has definite ideas about that. To be fair, my skin glows, my nails are perfectly shaped and lacquered, and my hair is re-styled and totally glam after she’s through.
And the rest of Tuesday and all of Wednesday are spent shopping, which is exhausting. I try on outfit after outfit, and whenever I can grab a moment of free time, I’m texting with the wedding planner to discuss my preferences. Josephine stops only when I tell her I’m about to faint from hunger. I’m convinced she’s not human. She seems to get nourishment every time a sales clerk swipes Ryder’s plastic, like some kind of credit vampire.
Ryder’s no help since he’s been scarce for a few days, ostensibly to give me time to think the alimony situation over objectively. That’s probably him trying to play fair, since not that many women can think straight around a guy like that, and he knows it. But I’m also certain he’s swamped, since he no longer has me arranging his schedule and dealing with his mail and things. I can’t be his assistant and spend my entire day shopping at the same time.