God, I Hate That Man Read online

  By the time we arrive at the restaurant, we’re almost half an hour late for lunch and the icy atmosphere between us is so cold I almost expect to see her breath steaming in front of her face.

  We get out of the car, still not talking to each other, barely looking at each other, and Ashley slams my car door so hard that I grit my teeth.

  The valet hurries forward to take my keys, and I walk into the restaurant, figuring Ashley will either catch up with me or she won’t. “Booking under Jagger,” I say to the smiling host.

  “Yes, Sir,” he says, looking down to consult the book he has open on his small lectern.

  Ashley has joined me now and she stands by my side. The host doesn’t show any change of expression when he glances at her, but I know that’s only because he’s trained not to. I glance at Ashley out of the side of my eye.

  She’s looking around, taking in the modern décor and the tables where people in designer gear are sitting chatting and laughing. But most of all, she’s taking in how totally out of place she is in this setting. She glances down at herself and then back up. “Is it too late to change?” she hisses at me.

  “Ah, there we are, sir,” the host announces. “The rest of your party is already here. Follow me please.” He is already walking away.

  “It’s fine.” Ashley sighs. “It’s my own fault for being so stubborn.”

  I know I can’t make this right now. There’s no way to get her back out of the restaurant without my mom spotting us through the window, especially now as the host is almost at our table. My mom’s favorite table is the one right by the window and I know she’s probably already seen us coming in.

  “Don’t worry,” I say to Ashley with a wink. “You’ll do great.”

  I find that I no longer want to punish her for being so stubborn. She’s obviously managed that herself, and she’s done it way harsher than I ever could have.

  My mom stands up when she sees us approaching. Expressionlessly, she looks Ashley up and down, but she makes no comment about her disheveled appearance.

  “Nice of you to join me,” my mom says, when the host has moved out of earshot.

  “Hi, Mom,” I say kissing her cheek. “I’m so sorry we’re late. I got caught up with a client and I didn’t realize the time. By the time I was finished, we didn’t even have time to pop to Ashley’s place, so she could change. She’s been doing some decorating for me in one of the offices.”

  My mom’s expression changes instantly when she thinks Ashley is only dressed this way because of me. She clicks her tongue at me and gives Ashley a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry about my son and his workaholic tendencies. Would you be more comfortable if I asked for a table somewhere a little more private?”

  “Oh no, honestly it’s fine,” Ashley reassures with a warm smile.

  “Alright, dear.” My mom smiles back. “I’m Helen by the way, as it seems my son has forgotten his manners completely.” She leans forward and kisses Ashley’s cheek.

  “And you probably already know that I’m Ashley,” Ashley informs as she sits down.

  My mom picks up her menu. “I guess we better order.”

  Ashley catches my eye while my mom is distracted, “Thank you,” she mouths.

  I don’t know why this makes me happy, but it kind of does. I decide not to question why I’m happy, but instead, just be grateful that I am.

  5

  Ashley

  Mrs. Jagger, well, she asked me to call her Helen, looks at me as though I’m out of my depth and even Finn is starting to feel sorry enough for me that he covered for me. But I’m not out of my depth. I could fit in here if I wanted to. Hell, I used to fit into places like this just fine. I just choose not to anymore. Five years ago, this place would have been one of my local haunts, but I’m not that person anymore.

  Five years ago, I was just like Finn; a cog in the glittering world of the moneyed, ruled by wanting to win at all costs. I still want to win, but now at least, I’m fighting for something worth fighting for. When I win now, it’s not about screwing over the little guy or making millions of dollars. It’s about changing someone’s life, giving them a fresh start when they need it the most.

  The day I left the corporate world behind, I left behind all of its trappings. I stopped buying clothes that cost enough money for a family to live for a week. I stopped driving a car that cost more than some people’s homes. And as I shed the materialistic stuff, I realized I didn’t miss any of it at all. In fact, I found the very notion I had once been one of those desk monkeys abhorrent. Looking back now, it’s like I’m looking back on someone else’s life rather than my own.

  My parents weren’t happy about my decision to go into the nonprofit sector, but they got used to the idea, and I think now, they’re just happy I’m happy. Or at least my dad pretends to because my mom wants to keep the peace. My friends were a different story. My friends were a group of Finns and when I left that life behind, we all realized just how little we had in common. The only thing tying us together was a life I was no longer living. It’s not like they weren’t supportive, it’s just that they didn’t get it and I no longer got them. I kind of drifted away from them, and the odd time I run into one of them now, we’re civil enough, but it’s like we’re strangers. I suppose in some ways we are.

  I am much happier now, living a simple life and helping people, but holy shit… I wish I’d put the stupid dress on now. I’d expected Helen to be one of those executive type women who wear sharp suits and snap at everyone, trying to prove they’re every bit as strong as their male counterparts. I’ve taken down plenty of those types over the years, and I knew in my mind exactly how to handle Helen.

  The trouble with this plan is Helen isn’t corporate. I can see this by looking at her. She’s wearing a neat white blouse and a black skirt. Her collar is open showing a string of pearls. Her slightly greying hair is rolled into a chic chignon and her earrings match her necklace. Everything about her screams upper class. She is more like royalty than a part of the corporate world.

  And I have no idea how to handle her.

  Although she has been warm to me, I can tell she doesn’t approve of any of this, and I can tell she doesn’t approve of me. Generally, when I meet people who are so openly judgmental of me, I cut them out of my life, but I’m kind of stuck with Helen for the near future. If I were dressed more appropriately for this place, for this lifestyle, I would have had some armor at least.

  I would have been back in my old clothes, playing my old role. The role where I fit in with the Helens of the world. The role where she would have been pleased to think her son was marrying me. And it wouldn’t have mattered that it was all fake.

  A waiter comes over to our table.

  Helen gathers up the menus and hands them to him with a cool smile that declares I’m being polite because I’m civilized, but you’re not important.

  I wonder how the waiter feels. He probably doesn’t even notice it anymore as most of the clientele in here probably look at him the same way. I bite my lip to stop myself from smiling as I imagine the waiter in a bar or something after work with his friends talking about taking crap from these people and saying how clueless they are as to how the world really works.

  We order our meal.

  “And bring a bottle of your finest champagne,” Helen orders in a clipped accent she probably thinks makes her sound classy, but just makes her sound pretentious, as far as I am concerned.

  No one speaks like this naturally. I can’t help but think if a person is truly comfortable with who they are, they don’t need to fake things to make themselves feel more important than they actually are. I decide to stop being a bitch. Helen is clearly old money, and she’s probably never known anything different to this lifestyle. It’s no more her fault she was born rich and blinkered than it is when someone is born poor and sees too much too young.

  “Yes ma’am.” The waiter nods, and scurries back away, fading into the background just like he’s been train
ed to do.

  Helen turns to me. “I hope you don’t mind me being blunt, dear.”

  I shake my head. I actually don’t mind. I like honesty, even if it hurts, and I would prefer her to get the objections and the accusations out of the way right off the bat.

  “I am not a huge fan of Finn going through with my father-in-law’s ridiculous request, but he’s explained his reasoning to me, and I will support his decision. I understand why he’s doing it, and I understand why you’re doing it. I can’t say I understand Arthur’s reasoning, but he was an old fool. Anyway, my point is that we all know this is nothing but a sham marriage, and I just want to make it clear to you now that you will not receive a penny more than what the agreement states. Are we clear?”

  “Jesus, Mom…” Finn starts, his voice hard.

  I’ve never heard him speak like this before, but I interrupt him, “I can fight my own battles, Finn.”

  He turns to stare at me.

  I look him square in the eye. Something flashes in his eye and I can see he is not happy to back down. “Please?” I implore quietly.

  His adam’s apple jerks, then he nods curtly.

  I turn to Helen and almost tell her the truth; that I have a background in contract law and there is at least one loophole in the paperwork Finn sent over which I could exploit if I really wanted to. I won’t, because I have no intention of whoring myself out for my own personal gain, but I could. Instead, I decide to tell her a version of that part. “I have no problem with that, Helen. I’m not sure what sort of women you associate with, but let me assure you that I am not for sale. I am going along with this agreement only because the money will help so many people who truly need it. I don’t need your son’s money to make my life better and I have no intention of trying to get a penny more than what our contract stipulates.”

  Unembarrassed, she nods with satisfaction. “I’m glad we’re all on the same page here. Now, let’s get down to the actual wedding.”

  I snort out a laugh which I manage to turn into a fake cough. The very idea of planning a fake wedding just strikes me as funny. I mean what’s to plan? We’ll go down to the Justice of the Peace office one afternoon, sign some papers and it’s done.

  It seems Helen has other ideas though. She leans down to the ground and pulls a huge binder from a leather bag.

  I look over at Finn.

  “Totally up to you,” he offers with a shrug.

  Helen puts the binder on the table and opens it. “I’m just going to run through some of the details, but don’t worry too much about taking it all in right now. Damon will go through everything with you in more detail later.”

  “Damon?” I ask.

  “Damon Brown,” she repeats and looks at me like she’s waiting for me to magically know who he is. When it’s clear that isn’t going to happen, she shows the first sign of discomfort. “He’s the best wedding planner in the city, and he’s agreed to do this for me as a personal favor. The wedding will be in one month and you have a lot to decide.”

  I’m still trying to get my head around the idea that we need a wedding planner when Helen opens the binder and begins pointing to things and giving me a running commentary of the contents.

  I peer down at the images in a daze. Wow! She has been planning this for a very, very long time.

  “Locations. You can choose from a cathedral wedding or a location wedding. We would be more than happy to host the wedding at our house, which I think would be a nice touch as it’s Finn’s childhood home. Or of course, there’s Melbourne Hall.”

  I definitely don’t want to get married in a cathedral, or somewhere as fancy as Melbourne Hall. I get the impression Helen wants me to choose her home anyway, but it feels wrong. If Finn gets married there, it should be to someone he has a future with.

  Helen doesn’t wait for me to offer up any comment before she flicks over the page. “I’ve scheduled you an appointment at a bridal boutique so you can choose your dress and of course your bridesmaid’s dresses. How many would you like? I think four is appropriate as Finn will be having four groomsmen.”

  “Helen, may I say something?”

  “Of course.” She looks at me expectantly.

  “Well, it’s just… isn’t this all a bit elaborate for a fake wedding?”

  “Young lady, I am going along with this to make Finn happy, so he can have what he wants. That doesn’t mean I am going to allow the two of you to make a mockery of me among my friends. Which means your wedding will be every bit as grand as it would be if this was all real.” She pauses, her face scornful. “Do you have a problem with that?”

  I have a million problems with it, but I find that I don’t want to voice them. I’m doing this for the kids. Finn is doing it for his company. And she is doing it to keep her status.

  Slowly, I shake my head.

  “Good.”

  “Who will pay for all this?” I ask, biting my bottom lip. There’s no way I will be asking my parents to chip in.

  “Is that what you’re worried about?” She sniffs. “You can stop worrying. I made my expectations clear in terms of what you will and won’t get from my son, but I don’t expect your family to pay for this wedding. I appreciate that it’s me insisting on this, so it’s anything other than a quickie Justice of the Peace job as Finn so charmingly put it. So please, just enjoy being a fairytale bride and let me take care of the finances.”

  I open my mouth, not sure what I’m even supposed to say to this. I hope she’s not expecting me to thank her, but I have a horrible feeling that’s exactly what she’s expecting.

  The waiter saves me from saying the wrong thing as he appears with a bottle of champagne in a silver bucket. He pops it open and pours our glasses.

  Once he is gone, she raises her glass towards both Finn and I. “To all our happiness.”

  I smile and so does Finn.

  For a moment, we are all connected in a lie we have been forced into. We all take a sip. Then Helen turns to Finn. “You don’t mind, Finn, if I talk to Ashley for a bit, do you?”

  “Be my guest,” he invites putting the glass down.

  Helen turns back to me, the awkwardness from before the waiter arrived seemingly forgotten and launches back into her folder. “Your cake will be made by Anton’s Bakery, one of the nicest in the city. He’s made wedding cakes for royalty, you know. You will have a meeting with him to choose your flavors and decorations. Perhaps nothing too modern though, huh? Think elegant dear – less is always more.” Her eyes slip down along my legs to my shoes.

  Ah, the bows. She doesn’t like the bows. Tough. I like them.

  I nod in agreement. She has a very clear idea in her mind of how she wants this wedding to go. It is at the tip of my tongue to suggest she do whatever she wants and lets me know where I have to be and when, but I resist the urge. I kind of get the impression she genuinely believes she’s being nice doing this, and while I can’t quite get my head around that, I don’t want to throw her kindness back in her face.

  She pushes her book of weddings towards me.

  I flick through the pages. It has options for catering, options for reception venues, suit hire, flowers, wedding favors, centerpieces, bands, officiants, witnesses, vows and poetry for the ceremony, and a hundred other things that just leave my head spinning.

  I feel grateful when the first course has arrived.

  “Bon appétit,” she coos, before delicately slipping between her pale lips the smallest piece of foie gras I have ever seen.

  As she carries on speaking two things become certain. Firstly, this wedding is easily going to cost in excess of half a million dollars, and secondly, I was wrong earlier. I am well and truly out of my depth here, and I will be no matter what I’m wearing.

  When Helen finishes talking, I pick up my glass and realize it is empty. I have drunk the entire contents of the glass without even tasting it. More for something to do with my hands than anything else. I put the empty glass back down.

  Helen sm
iles at me, warmth in her eyes for the first time. “Don’t worry, Ashley. I know I’ve fired a lot of information at you, but like I said, Damon will go over everything properly with you later. He has a copy of this file, and he knows what choices are pre-approved. I would prefer you stick to those options, but if there’s something you want that isn’t mentioned, have Damon run it by me alright?”

  I nod mutely, as our main courses are served.

  “Now, how many people will you be inviting?” Helen asks briskly.

  No one, I want to say. I mean the whole thing is a sham. It’s not something I want to share with anyone. I hate the idea of being that girl who has a big fancy wedding and then gets divorced a few months later. Besides, this a far cry from the quick wedding Finn had talked about.

  “Surely, you must want to invite your family and friends,” she prods.

  Actually, I don’t, but if my friends and family find out I had a wedding and didn’t invite them, they would probably never speak to me again. I do a quick calculation in my head. I’ll have to invite my parents obviously. Aunt Shauna, Uncle Jim and their daughters. And the people I work with. I cut into my mushroom main course and a gorgeous golden sauce made of butter oozes out. “Around twenty.”

  Helen laughs, then she catches herself when I frown. “Oh, goodness me, you’re serious,” she utters, shocked.

  “Yes. I don’t have a big family and I’ve always imagined a small, intimate ceremony if I ever did get married, with only my closest friends around. I understand this isn’t going to be that, but I really don’t want to invite all of my acquaintances. You can invite whoever you want, obviously, but I’d really prefer to only invite people I actually like for my guests.”