Sinners at the Altar (Page 82)

“Of course,” Jessica said. “Just pretend I look beautiful.”

“You do look beautiful,” Sed said gruffly. His chest puffed with pride because she was his.

Without warning, Jessica’s mother came at her with a hairbrush. “Dear lord, what a disaster! This will be remembered as the worst celebrity wedding ever in the history of Hollywood. Thank God I was only responsible for the reception.”

Jessica tried to avoid the hairbrush while Sed worked very hard at holding his tongue.

“A, I’m not a celebrity,” Jessica said, cringing when the brush landed in her hair and caught on a snag. “B, we are not in Hollywood. And C, I don’t care what you think.”

“And D,” Mom said, “what’s important is the kids are happy. Right?” She smiled in her ever friendly way, but Stella just scowled at her.

“Celebrities owe it to the world to have fairy-tale weddings,” Stella said. “It gives us regular people something to dream about.”

Sed opened his mouth to argue that celebrities didn’t owe the world anything—not that he considered himself a huge celebrity in the first place. Celebrities had the right to privacy and bad-hair days and cellulite and stretch marks just like everyone else. But he remembered his promise to Jessica and slammed his mouth closed. His teeth clicked together so hard, his ears rang. It was damn hard to hold his tongue when Jessica’s mother was around. Stella was far more outspoken and opinionated than her daughter. And as his opinions always clashed with the woman’s, it wasn’t as if he enjoyed arguing with her. Or watching Jessica try to hold her own. He had half a mind to shove Jessica back in the limo, steal her away without attending the reception, and deal with his wife’s fury later.

While Jessica and her mother argued about Jessica’s ruined hair and her ruined dress and her ruined flowers and her ruined wedding, Sed’s muscles grew tighter and tighter with tension. If his mother hadn’t placed a comforting hand on his elbow, he would have exploded.

“Are you going to say something?” Mom asked quietly.

“Jessica doesn’t want me to interfere.”

“Do you always let her get her way?”

Sed flushed. “Pretty much.”

“You have to pick your battles,” Mom said.

“Yeah.” At his mother validation of his choice, he felt a bit better about staying out of Stella and Jessica’s escalating argument.

“I think this might be the one you should pick.” Mom patted his back. “I’ll see you inside.”

So she wasn’t validating his choice after all. He considered clinging to his mother’s leg and begging her not to leave him with the mother-in-law that came with his new wife, but he wasn’t a three-year-old. He felt almost as helpless as one at the moment. And what must Jessica be feeling having to deal with Stella directly?

“Um, excuse me,” Sed said, trying to gain their attention.

“Those stains will never come out of that dress!” her mother was screeching. “Jesus God, do you even remember how long it took you to pick it out, Jessica Chase? You must have tried on a thousand gowns.”

“Jessica Lionheart,” she corrected. “And it’s my dress, mother. If I want to tie-dye it and wear it in the Thanksgiving Day parade, that’s my prerogative.”

“Do you know what your problem is?” Stella said, eyes narrowed dangerously.

“You! You are my problem.”

Stella shook her head, sending silky blond locks dancing about her spray-tanned shoulders. “No, your problem is that you think only of yourself, Jessica.”

Sed took a step back as Jessica’s jaw went hard, and her eyes sparked with anger. She’d leveled him with that look on a few occasions. They never ended well.

“It’s my wedding day!” Jessica bellowed. “I’m supposed to think of myself today. My love for Sed and his for me are the only things that are supposed to matter today. You’re the one being a selfish shrew.” She threw her hands up as a plea to the heavens. Or maybe she was praying for a lightning strike to be sent in her mother’s direction.

“Um, sweetheart?” Sed again tried to break into their tirade exchange. He happened to agree with his wife, and not only because he didn’t want to face her wrath.

“Me, selfish?” her mother yelled. “Do you know how much time and effort I put into planning this reception?”

Jessica pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “How could I not know that? You’ve reminded me no less than a million times.”

“Our guests are waiting.” Sed placed a hand against Jessica’s back, hoping to propel her gently in the general direction of the front door. “We’re already late. We wouldn’t want the lobster bisque your mother selected to get cold.”

“I don’t even like lobster bisque!” Jessica yelled and stormed up the cement steps to the entry doors of the reception hall.

“She’s under a lot of pressure,” Sed explained to the startled photographer who had yet to find an opportunity for a candid shot that did not involve flailing hands and angry faces. But at least they were on their way inside. Perhaps Sed could keep Jessica and her mother separated for the rest of the afternoon.

Where was a brick wall when he needed one?

“Speak to her, Sedric,” Stella said. “She’s being completely unreasonable.”

“Look, Stella, I promised Jess I would not interfere unless she asked me to, but I’m not above locking you outside and pretending it was an accident. If you push me, I will push back.”