And there was the rub. Gabriella preferred to be seen as Libby’s sister than her mother and often did her best to make sure she was the center of attention. Even now—wearing a form-fitting white dress with a deep V-neck that showed off her ample cleavage—Gabriella St. Clair would not be relegated to the background.
Libby’s mother glided over to her and grabbed her hand in a dramatic flourish. “You are by far the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.”
Libby gritted her teeth. “Thank you, Momma.”
“I’m still not sure that boy out there is right for you.”
That was one of the few things the St. Clair women agreed upon, except Gabriella didn’t think Libby should marry at all.
“Thank you for your concern, Momma.”
Her mother patted her cheek and looked into her eyes. “No talking you out of it?”
Libby released a short laugh. At this point, if either of her friends told her this was crazy and encouraged her to back out of it, she’d probably do it in a heartbeat. But hearing her mother say it was a whole other thing. “I’ve made up my mind.”
“Well, nothing’s forever, sweetheart.” Gabriella shot a wicked glance to Blair. “And you already have a divorce attorney on retainer.”
Blair’s mouth opened as if on a hinge, but Gabriella was already sweeping out of the room.
Blair put her hands on her hips. “I can’t believe her!”
Libby shook her head, her anxiety rising. “It’s my mother. What do you expect?” She took a breath. “It’s time to start.”
Megan took a step toward her. “Maybe you should take a moment.”
“I don’t care what she thinks. We’ve known she’s a narcissistic bitch since before I found her and my first boyfriend screwing on our kitchen counter. Why would anything change in the last fifteen years?”
“Oh, Libs . . .” Megan said softly.
Megan’s sweetness was nearly her undoing. “Forget my mother. There are bigger things to worry about. I have a date with destiny.”
Her friends gave her a strange look, but Libby pushed them toward the door, not giving them time to respond.
They waited in the church lobby, listening for the musical cue to start down the aisle. Blair went first, followed by Megan. And soon the music switched to the song Mitch had picked for her walk down the aisle—the Razorback fight song. She’d agreed to everything he’d asked for, never once thinking the wedding would progress this far.
Libby cast a worried glance toward the front door of the church, wondering where in the hell her soul mate could be. After a good twenty seconds, long enough for the guests in the church to start murmuring in confusion, Libby realized he wasn’t going to come walking through the door.
Which meant he was inside the church.
Relief washed over her at that thought, which was enough to get her through the door and propel her down the aisle. Her gaze swept the crowd, looking for her Prince Charming, but the only real candidate she came up with was Mitch’s Uncle Earl—a forty-two-year-old confirmed bachelor and wholesale fish salesman down in Louisiana. He was a good seventy-five pounds overweight, and during the rehearsal dinner, Libby and her friends had decided he wore a toupee. He gave her a leering smile when he realized her gaze had landed on him. Then he licked his upper lip, as if he’d just spotted a particularly succulent catfish.
She’d rather marry Mitch.
Mitch wasn’t so bad. Her friends liked him. And if she could learn to overlook the football fanaticism, he was sweet. Sure, Libby had done her level best to keep Blair from marrying a man she didn’t love, but there was no denying that Mitch was a better partner than Neil could ever be. Still, Libby couldn’t fool herself into thinking she was head over heels in love. After she’d announced her short engagement, Blair and Megan had quizzed her endlessly about her decision. She must have performed the role of the gushing bride-to-be a little too well, because she’d convinced them this was what she wanted. But if she went through with it, it would be until death do us part. While Libby might know the best divorce attorney in the universe, she’d never let it come to that.
Unlike her mother, Libby believed marriage was for keeps.
So what was she doing?
Maybe her white knight hadn’t shown up yet. Maybe he’d gotten lost in traffic. Libby just had to keep going and believe it would all work out.
But as she climbed the two steps up the altar, panic clawed in her chest. Have faith, she repeated in her head. Just have faith.
Mitch waited for her, wearing his black tux with his University of Arkansas tie. He lifted his pants legs to reveal his Razorback socks. “Ehh?” He grinned as he dropped it. “You’re gonna be the perfect wife, Libby,” he whispered. “What other bride would let her groom finish watching a football game before the ceremony?” Then he winked and nudged her with his elbow. “We won! Twenty-three to twenty-one! Go Hogs!” he shouted, following up with a victory whoop—“Wooo Pig Sooooie!!!”—that his friends joined in from the pews.
Megan and Blair’s eyes flew open in shock.
Welcome to the real Mitch.
Her anxiety ratcheted up five notches.
Why couldn’t Megan and Blair read between the lines and realize she wasn’t in love with him? Libby had recognized all the signs with the both of them. Were they so eager for her to settle down that they’d give their approval to anyone?
She decided to ignore the fact that she’d proposed to him. Her lame attempt to get the curse rolling.