“Lena, I’m not sure why we’re here tonight, but I’m going to have to make our excuses now,” she said brazenly.
Brandon looked at her quizzically but stood without questioning her motives.
“Is there something that doesn’t suit you?” Lena asked acidly.
“I don’t feel like I belong here. It’s not your fault because, clearly you’re perfectly comfortable. But I don’t want to make small talk with you when you obviously hate me and hope I’m some fake who didn’t really marry Brandon. And I don’t want to eat vinegar kale compote or soap chicken or whatever you’re serving next. I want to go eat something real in my own shoes with my red lipstick on. I’m only here because I married Brandon and I’d do just about anything for him, except pretend to be something I’m not. I’m not a society girl. I don’t eat dinner in huge formal rooms where everyone has nine forks each. So you’ll forgive me—or not—for walking out. This was some kind of test for us, for me, and I just failed it. I’m sorry, Brandon. I just want us to go home!” she said.
Brandon rounded the table and took her hand. He nodded to the lawyers and kissed the top of Marj’s head and led her out to the car.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “It was so blatant that she hated me, and I didn’t like the food, and I didn’t like being interrogated and seen as not good enough. I told you I could do this, and then I wimped out. I’m not that good of an actress apparently.”
“You just did more for our cause than a flawless performance could have. You just told them you can’t pretend to be someone you’re not. And we left together. I’m sorry the chicken was disgusting. I should have warned you to eat first—Lena’s always ordering vile combinations of food, but she eats them herself so I assume it’s not malicious—it’s what she really eats. I didn’t realize it would be so hard on you,” he said as they slid into the car.
“I don’t know what came over me. I didn’t think I could sit there another hour, not even another five minutes. I’m hungry, and you were so far away across that giant table talking about rugby or something—”
“Rowing crew,” he supplied wryly, “so sports talk and chicken make you panic?”
“Fine, tease me all you want, just get me something to eat, okay? I’m kind of embarrassed that I let you down, but I’m not the kind of girl to sit there and let Lena talk to me like I’m gum on her Manolos.”
“What do you want to eat?”
“A taco. A big crunchy taco,” she said rather miserably.
He kissed her then, pulling her half in his lap. Brandon cupped her backside with his big hands and pushed his tongue in her mouth.
“No wife of mine has to be embarrassed for standing up for herself. I told you to wear your own shoes, be yourself. If I wanted someone quiet and compliant, don’t you think I would’ve picked someone else to marry?” he said against her mouth.
“I kind of thought I was the nearest warm body when you realized you had to get hitched before your birthday.”
“There were plenty of other women in that building, men, too. I could’ve offered any number of them a few million dollars to say those vows. I didn’t. I said them to you and right now I’m going to get you a taco,” he said, rapping on the divider window and giving Rafael instructions.
Soon she had a fish taco and some spicy brown rice in her stomach and felt much more herself. She was so relieved to be out of that mansion, out from under Lena’s metaphorical microscope. She was grateful that Brandon wasn’t mad at her for it either. After she’d polished off her taco, she hoped they’d go out, go dancing, hit a club or two and have a fun night, but Brandon kissed her and dropped her off at the townhouse so he could go back to the office.
She messaged her supervisor in marketing that she’d be back in the office tomorrow. The response was a congratulations on the surprise wedding and a question about why she intended to continue working. Marj sighed. She obviously couldn’t come out and say, oh, well, I’m only married till probate is over so I might as well keep my hand in at work. She just replied vaguely that she wanted to keep working for the time being, subject to change.
Chapter 3
She shucked off the trappings of the dinner party and got into her pajamas. Not sexy lingerie, but pajamas. Then she called Britt and told her about meeting the Wicked Queen. Marj was in her element, retelling a dramatized version of the ignominious evening, detailing her showdown with the evil stepmother.