16 - girlfriends and bridesmaids

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So, James was rich.

​​Like, Richie Rich kind of rich. Lush green topiary bushes styled into baby bunnies and ponies kind of rich. Three-story mansions on seventy acres of land kind of rich. The gardens and orchards were manicured to perfection, and light string music clung to a rose-scented breeze. Was it all that shocking in hindsight? Probably not. God had blessed James physically, mentally, and socially. Why not throw in a net worth larger than most people could dream of, too?

As soon as I stepped out of my car and onto the Bennet's pebbled drive, spotting the paddocks adorned with the occasional stallion and meadows of swaying crocuses dotting the rolling green hills in the distance, I wanted to step right back in and floor it back to campus. And then maybe cry in poor. Unfortunately, I couldn't do either of those things, because an eager valet dressed in a baby blue suit practically snatched my keys from my hand and offered to take my car out back. Where exactly out back was on the Bennet's overwhelmingly large estate, I wasn't quite sure. 

Then again, I was way too far into my state of shock to really be able to think it through.

I followed a group of cooing women wearing outrageous floral headpieces up the ivory steps to the front door, straightening out my violet two-piece self-consciously. It wasn't my style, but it was the only dress I owned that wasn't black. It was also my only piece of designer clothing, thanks to my mother's desire for everyone to think we had more money than we actually did. I'd felt so silly when I threw it on two hours earlier, but staring up at the three-story building looming over me, I was glad I had.

"Could I get a name please, ma'am?" the man at the door asked, conferring the glistening silver iPad in his hands. He was dressed in a striking tuxedo and looked remarkably similar to a butler. Probably because he was, quite literally, a butler.

"Oh," I stammered. "Um, Madison. Watson. But I was only invited yesterday, so I don't know if you'll have my—"

"Ah, yes. Miss Watson. Guest to Master Bennet. How lovely to have you in attendance." He tapped something on his iPad, then motioned for me to walk through the front door. "You'll find the hearth room on the other side of the foyer, after which a door to the vestibule will take you to the boudoir. I'm sure you won't have much trouble finding Master Bennet and his crew." His gray eyes twinkled every-so-slightly. "They usually stick to the outskirts, somewhere near the food."

I blinked. I registered ... nothing after the word attendance. Honestly, with the way that he was talking, I had half a mind to curtsy.

Perhaps James was the subject of a Jane Austen novel after all.

"Can't I just follow them?" I asked sheepishly, jerking my head toward the women who were being directed to walk around the house to the back—and nowhere near whatever a hearth room was.

"I'm afraid not," was the butler's stoic reply, his eyes still gleaming.

Well.

I fiddled with my rings. "It's just—"

"Madison!"

Noah. Thank god.

He came barreling out of the house, stopping just short of crashing into the butler. "Nigel," Noah greeted in a plummy voice I'd never heard him use before. Then he grabbed my arm.

And jerked me inside.

"Ow—" I started to say.

"Why didn't you answer your phone?" Noah asked, steering me down a sprawling entranceway that gave way to an even larger foyer. Twin double staircases spilled from the second level, a mezzanine that looped around the entry lined with limestone busts. The glass ceiling let in torrents of golden daylight. The whole place was white and bright, the glittering details dripping in gold.

I tried not to gape. "I was driving," I said matter-of-factly, retrieving my phone with the arm Noah wasn't clutching.

Sixteen missed calls.

That wasn't good.

"Did someone die?" I wondered.

"They might after this," Noah grumbled while I ... gawked.

If the outside of the Bennet's home made me want to cry, then the inside almost sent me into cardiac arrest. We walked through the never-ending corridor, practically racing from one side of the house to the other. I felt like I was in a museum. Or a castle. I'd thought that my parents' home was nice; my mother had made sure it was, despite it costing my stepfather a double mortgage. But nice was an understatement when it came to the Bennet estate. The entire place oozed old money, from the white marble flooring to the original eighteenth-century ceiling roses, not to mention the gold-plated furniture with matching floral designs that just had to be custom.

"Is that framed in real gold?" I asked of the family portrait displayed above the fireplace in a lounge we passed. A lounge. There was more than one.

"So you know how Dex says dumb things when he's nervous?" Noah asked, ignoring my ogling.

I continued ogling while I murmured, "Only when he's nervous?"

"And how he gets really nervous in front of Holly?"

I groaned. "Did he propose?" And was that a cinema room we just passed?

"James' mother was going over the guest list," Noah continued, speaking as quickly as his feet moved as he steered me through the maze of glitz and glamor. "She saw your name next to his plus one, and she sort of asked Dex how James knew you, and Holly was there, and Dex got flustered, and—"

"This is a really long story." And a really big house. Was house even the right word?

"Well, long story short ..." Noah came to a crashing stop near what I took to be the vestibule. Foyer. It was another foyer. Noah grimaced as he said, "Dex told James' mom that you're James' girlfriend."

"You mean ex-girlfriend. Or ex-fling—whatever—"

"No, Madison." Noah let go of my arm. He eyed me like I was a stray dog that might bite. "I mean girlfriend. As in, currently-dating-and-has-been-dating-for-three-months girlfriend."

The world slipped out from under my heels.

"Wait." I gaped. "What—"

"Madeline?" A beautiful woman with dark brown skin poked her head out from another endless corridor to the left, that one lined with abstract artwork. She wore a knee-length rose-colored dress and a white sash that read Mother of the Bride.

"Madison," Noah corrected, pushing me forward. "But yes, this is her. Isn't she pretty?"

He was totally trying to flatter his way out of being murdered.

I scowled at him. The word was still looping through my mind. Girlfriend? James' girlfriend?

That couldn't be right.

Obviously.

"Wonderful." The mother of the bride laced her arm through mine, giving me little chance to protest before steering me down the hall. "Let's get you changed."

Changed? I cast a glance down at my dress. It wasn't exactly my taste, but was it ... that objectively bad?

"There's one more thing," Noah whispered, trailing us.

"This gets worse?" I asked through clenched teeth.

"The best man got held up in customs. His date was going to be a bridesmaid. And you know James; he's so nice. So thoughtful. So kind. He's quite handsome, too, wouldn't you say? His hair is very tousled."

Heat fled my body, ice flooding my veins. "Noah ..." I warned.

Noah just said, "He volunteered to be the best man. And since you're his girlfriend ..."

That ice got colder. "Noah ..."

"Everyone," the mother of the bride announced, guiding me into a grand bedroom bedecked in silver balloons and streamers. A beautiful woman dressed in a stunning white wedding gown was having her makeup touched up, and three other women wearing matching pink dresses with outrageous tulle skirts were sprawled out on the bed.

They turned to take me in, all of them wearing pink eye shadow and a daring pink lip, and I felt their gazes run over me from head to toe.

"This is Madison." The mother of the bride drew me into a side-hug. "James' girlfriend, who has so kindly agreed to step in for Nora."

"Madison!" The bride jumped up from her chair, startling the makeup artist. She ran over to me, her brown skin glowing under the warm lighting while her black curls bounced beneath her veil. "Thank you so much! Gosh, you're just perfect. Let's get you into Nora's bridesmaid dress. And thanks—again."

Thanks?

My heart lurched. Bridesmaid dress ...

I whirled to face Noah, who was being shooed out of the room by the maid of honor. He grimaced at me apologetically as the gavel fell and I realized exactly what he—or Dex—had gotten me into.

"You should have checked your phone," Noah said before the door was slammed in his face.

I looked like a marshmallow.

An expensive marshmallow. But a fluffy pink marshmallow with terribly puffed sleeves nonetheless.

I fiddled with the tulle skirt on the bridesmaid dress I'd been shoved into after Noah threw me to the wolves. The tight, bejeweled bodice glittered under the fat beams of afternoon sun shining down on me as I waited for the photographer to position the bride and groom after the wedding ceremony. Thank goodness my curls had dropped; the hair stylist had coiled my dark blonde locks so tightly they would have made a poodle jealous. And there had been poodles at the wedding—each of us bridesmaids had walked one up the aisle. There had also been doves, which were released when the bride and groom kissed. One had pooped on Dex.

Karma, I'd mouthed to him.

He'd smiled at me.

I'd shaken my head, running my thumb across my throat.

I squinted through the daylight to search for him on the horizon; some of the guests watched the wedding party's photoshoot, others heading to the marquees that had been set up on the side of the manor for the looming reception. Dex wasn't with Noah, who was snapping some behind-the-scenes photos with Holly. I think he'd been avoiding me ever since I'd threatened to slice him open.

Fair enough.

"Miss Watson?" the photographer called.

Painting on a smile, I joined the rest of the wedding party by the towering oak crowning a knoll. I let the photographer position me like I was some kind of doll, all the while trying to avoid the same burning gaze I'd tried to avoid all through the wedding.

Then, like now, I failed.

"Don't. Laugh," I murmured.

James' mouth tipped up into a smile when the photographer got down on his hands and knees to puff up my dress. "You look lovely."

My heart pattered. It was the first time we'd spoken since I'd arrived at his house. The first time since storming out of his room, actually. Gone was the odd mood that had enveloped us then, that spur-of-the-moment anger and my humiliation over waking up cuddling him reduced to embers. And he showed none of that reluctance I'd heard in his voice over the phone, when he'd all but said to Dex and Noah that he didn't want me to come to the wedding.

I glanced up at him, arching a brow. "I look like a tulip."

He grinned. "A lovely tulip."

"Shut. Up."

James hid a laugh behind his hand, turning it into a cough. I took my opportunity to run my gaze over him.

His golden skin was practically glowing in the afternoon sun, his broad shoulders accentuated by the immaculate white blazer atop his black shirt. His blonde hair was drunk on sunlight, as golden as a crown. Standing amongst the glamor of his family's estate, decorated in his sparkling Rolex and polished shoes, he oozed more than just his usual charm. He was utterly sophisticated and undeniably alluring. Even to me—and I'd sworn off men. All men.

"You look ..." I tore my gaze away as the photographer moved on to position James. "Okay, too."

James blinked at me in mock surprise. "Was that a compliment?"

"Definitely not."

"Pretty and charming." James was shoved toward me by the photographer, coming close enough that his cool breath danced through my hair. "Remind me why we broke up?"

My stomach was flipping. I swallowed the odd sensation away.

"You talk during movies," I said with a smile, trying to match his breezy tone. "And never shared your food."

His eyes glittered. "Doesn't sound like me."

"Guess we brought out the worst in each other."

The photographer instructed us to hold hands, and James laced his fingers through mine as he smiled, and said, "Guess so."

We snapped some photos—a lot of photos—before we took a break so the bride could have her lipstick re-applied.

"Thanks for doing this," James said as we were led to a little pond where ducks bobbed on the crystal-clear water. It was the first time he'd mentioned it—the whole fake boyfriend and girlfriend thing. Maybe that was why he was being so nice to me after I'd been so mean to him the last time we'd seen each other; he clearly felt bad. "And don't worry. I'm going to kill Dex later."

"It's fine. Really." I frowned up at him. "But couldn't you have just told your mother that Dex made a mistake?"

"I guess. She just ..." James looked away guiltily as one of the ducks took flight, swallowing hard. "She got so excited. She'd told all of my aunts and uncles before I could blink. And my old babysitter, who I had no idea was here until she offered to sell me some weed—"

"She told everyone? What, have you never had a girlfriend before?"

James glanced at me through lowered lashes, but Noah and Holly joined us by the foot of the pond, accompanied by some of the other guests who'd been watching the shoot from afar.

"Thank god you're here," Holly said, greeting me with her trademark kiss on the cheek. She looked stunning in a coral dress and matching lipstick, her hair secured off her face with butterfly clips. "I've never felt so out of place in my life."

"I wanted to die as soon as I walked in the lounge room," I admitted to Holly.

"You mean, the hearth room."

I covered my mouth, but a laugh slipped out as she giggled, too.

"What's so funny?" James questioned again, his brow knitted while his eyes darted between us.

Both Holly and I dismissed him with a wave, saying, "Nothing!" before turning back to one another and laughing even harder.

James' glare weakened, but I felt it linger on me for a moment longer before he turned, called away by the photographer to take some photos with just the groomsmen. Noah went with him, fussing over his hair.

Holly choked on a stifled gasp. Her hand flew out to grip my arm, her eyes drifting over my shoulder to something in the distance.

"I don't want to alarm you," she warned, "but it gets worse."

I turned my head in the direction of her ogling, quickly suppressing a gasp of my own.

Then, a groan. "I hate them."

Gathered on the lawn opposite us were a herd of the most pretentious-looking young adults I'd ever seen in real life. The girls had perfect ski-jump noses straight from the surgery tables of South East Asia, which were high in the air as they sneered down at the other guests that passed them on the lawn. Their near-identical gowns were accessorized with matching pearl headbands that held back thick, shiny manes of hair. The guys, donning brown suits and perfectly ironed slacks, were far, far worse—they looked as though they'd stepped straight out of The Riot Club.

They were a clique. A pack. Exuding wealth, privilege, and all the arrogance that came along with it. In a sentence, they were everything about a college like Camden I'd tried to avoid. And, likely, I was everything they tried to avoid. As if the middle-class was contagious or something.

"Stay close to me." Holly laughed, feigning sarcasm. But I could tell from the flash in her hazel eyes that she felt just as intimidated as I did.

Luckily, I was pulled into a warm, friendly embrace. James' mother—a five-foot-two whirlwind of golden hair and expensive perfume—introduced herself to Holly and I, then pointed out James' dad. Who was a total silver fox.

Mrs. Bennet was adorable. It was the only way I could think to describe her. She was dressed in a periwinkle dress and matching blazer, and was the perfect hostess as she waved a tray of hors d'oeuvres under mine and Holly's noses while she asked a million questions about me and my family. She reminded me of a baby bird; curious, gentle, slightly ... aloof. Her baby-blue eyes possessed a childlike innocence, her pearly white smile authentic and uncritical.

"Madison," she cooed sweetly, testing my name on her tongue. "How lovely. Does the name run in the family?" She crunched down on her tiny piece of bread, causing a portion of the bite-sized snack to crumble down from her candy floss lips and land on her dress. "Oh, dear—"

"Here you are, mother." A slender arm shot out in front of me, waving a crisp napkin in Mrs. Bennet's flushed face. The voice was coated in a thick British accent that reminded me of Downtown Abbey, dripping in confidence if not slight amusement.

"Oh, Joanna!" James' mother gasped gratefully, taking the napkin to dab at the spot where the crumbs had fallen. "What would I do without you, dear?"

"What would I do without you?" the newcomer giggled back.

The girl—Joanna—towered over me dominantly. She had to be at least five-eight, her height accentuated by her tailored pantsuit. Her rich skin glistened in the warm afternoon sunlight, decorated with diamonds in absolutely every place that you would expect to find a sparkling jewel. Pin-straight caramel hair framed her heart-shaped face, which in turn was perfected with flawless skin and plump nude lips.

I recognized her instantly as one of the girls who'd been standing with The Riot Club. Sure enough, two identically-dressed girls from the same group stood behind her, though they looked less like friends and more like accessories.

"You must be Holly and Madeline," Joanna drawled, her English accent catching slightly on Holly's name. "Such a pleasure."

"The pleasure is ours," Holly drawled back. It took every ounce of my strength not to descend into a fit of laughter at her very obvious sarcasm.

Instead, I lifted my lips into my best attempt at a kind, civil smile. "Madison," I corrected, trying to conceal my irritation. "I didn't know that James had a sister."

Joanna's eyes considered me for a moment, a condescending grin tugging at her mouth.

"Oh, Joanna's parents are family friends," Mrs. Bennet explained. "But I practically raised her alongside Jimmy—"

"We've never spent a holiday apart," Joanna

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