The Bastard Takes a Wife by Lindy Dale

Author:Lindy Dale
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, chick lit, funny, humour, rugby, weddings, holiday read, la dale, lindy dale
Publisher: Secret Creek Press

*****

Sam slammed the pictures of our wedding cake down on the desk. He was fighting hard to keep a lid on his anger, a side of him I had never witnessed before. His eyes were bulging and a vein had popped up on the side of his neck and was throbbing in snycronisation with his words.

“What’s this?”

“That’s our wedding cake.”

“Don’t be smart, Mill’ you know what I mean.”

It looked like the tables had turned. At last, I was the one in charge. If he thought I was going to let his mother run our lives, he had another thing coming. “I’m not being smart. You told me to choose what I wanted and this is what I want.”

“But I thought we were having the ‘small tasteful cake’ with the cute couple on top? What happened to that?”

I tried not to smirk. I could feel him squirming at the sheer enormity of this cake. “It’s the same cake. Just bigger. And bling-ier. Your mother should love it.”

Sam picked up the picture and turned it on an angle. He squinted as if trying to shrink it in his mind. His face went red like he was going to explode and his voice rose to a pitch I’d never heard in a man before. “It’s fucking huge! Since when did this become what we want?”

“Since your mother decided to pull that little stunt this morning so you wouldn’t be able to come to the cake tasting. I felt like a fool, Sam. You left me there with Angus and the girls.”

“But Mum was sick. She had one of her turns.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. She was no more sick than I’m freakin’ Beyonce in disguise. She put that on so you’d stay home with her. She wanted to show me who’s in charge. Then she sent Amanda along to talk me into something I didn’t want because she thought I’d back down if you weren’t there. It was divide and conquer. She never wanted us to have a simple cake and if you’d been there that’s exactly what we would have ordered.”

“So you thought you’d spend…” he peered at the faxed quote, “Fourteen thousand eight hundred dollars?”

“And fifty cents.”

“But why?”

“Because one of us has to stand up to her and, clearly, it wasn’t going to be you.”

“Jesus, Mill’, I never realised you were such a bitch.”

I stormed out of the room. Surely, there had to be someone in this world who understood.

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