His Regret to Power (His Power Book 4) by Tasha Fawkes

Author:Tasha Fawkes [Fawkes, Tasha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Safira Press LLC
Published: 2019-07-30T16:00:00+00:00

16 Blythe

Two months later…

After I told my mother that we were thinking of having the wedding at Hale’s estate, she cried. Actually cried over the phone.

Apparently, she’d always dreamed of her little girl getting married in a huge church, and I had no idea how to soothe her. Frankly, as much as I loved the traditional route, the idea didn’t suit me. Neither did her second choice of a beach wedding. One gust of wind and the sand would be everywhere. On the food. In the drink. On my dress. Down my cleavage. Sand down my cleavage did not make for a pleasant marrying experience.

She didn’t speak to me for two days, and I was starting to get anxious. When something really mattered to my mother, she could hold a grudge. When I was in middle school, I jumped on the heavy black eye liner bandwagon which, in hindsight, looked pretty awful on me, and after she asked nicely for me to try a lighter gray or gold shade, she stopped making my favorite dinner of chicken tenders and macaroni and cheese. The Queen of Passive Aggressive was stepping up her game.

I needed my mother’s support for my wedding, and I was about to give in when she called and told me that Rachel wanted us all to get together and go over color choices. She’d caved, but it wasn’t all her doing.

I drove, and when Rachel and I parked in the driveway, I turned and lifted my eyebrows. My mother didn’t just crack for no reason, and since she hadn’t been taking my calls, I knew that it wasn’t my doing. My father, as much as I loved him, never knew the right thing to say, and since she’d invited Rachel, that only left one person on the board. “All right, spill. How did you soften my mother up?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said airily as she reached for the door handle. She was wearing ridiculously large sunglasses, had been for days, and when I’d asked her about it, she’d claimed that she needed to look her best for when the press took photos of the Princess of Miami before her wedding. She looked ridiculous, and she was only wearing them because she knew it irked me.

Slapping my hand on the button, I locked the door, and she whipped her head around. “Don’t be like that!”

Rachel really knew how to put on a show when she wanted to be dramatic, and she was questioning my actions? “Just tell me what you said to her, and I’ll unlock the doors. Otherwise, I’ll put you on locker room clean-up for a month, and I’ll accidently sit on your sunglasses.”

She gasped. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Just try me.” If Rachel had a secret about getting my mother on her good side, I wanted to know it because we were a long way from finalizing plans for the wedding, and I had a feeling there were going to be a few more instances where she wouldn’t want to speak to me.

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