Risqué Business (Club Risqué #8)

Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

P lanning a wedding in a matter of weeks was hard work. Especially with all the work and travel in between.

Of course, it helped if you were marrying a man with money. No matter how much anyone wanted to deny it, money talked. Closed doors miraculously opened, things that weren’t available suddenly were, and stuff that couldn’t be arranged in such a short space of time… actually could be.

But despite the money, it was her mother who Trinity appreciated more than anything.

They’d grown apart after she’d dropped out of college and let her parents down; those years Trinity had devoted to Christian and Krista.

Her dad had been tough, refusing to continue paying for an education Trinity had messed up, and she didn’t blame him for it. Her family didn’t hurt for money, but there was a finite amount, and Trinity had a lot of siblings. It added up.

But being forced to stand on her own two feet and sort out the mess she’d made had been character-building.

All of it, Trinity pondered, had been necessary for her inner growth into the woman she had become. Even the heartbreaking situation with Christian. Because the things she’d learned about herself were important.

“What do you think of these flowers?” her mother asked, holding up several different blossoms that Trinity couldn’t name. “They’re all in season, so ordering enough for bouquets and table arrangements won’t be difficult.”

Helen Trent was a sensible woman. Logical. And Trinity was thrilled at the closeness they’d regained during the planning of her wedding.

“Roses are timeless,” her sister, Lexi, added her own opinion. “You can’t go wrong with those.”

“Do you have a colour palette in mind?” Helen asked, tipping her head to one side as she considered the flowers that were spread out on the table.

“Honestly, I’ve barely had time to think about anything past setting a date,” Trinity admitted. “What do you suggest?”

Helen stepped forward and softly touched a couple of Trinity’s poppy red spiked locks. “Well, I was going to suggest white or cream. Nice and neutral, easy to coordinate. But I wondered if you might prefer a bit more colour.”

Trinity smiled and leaned in to hug her mother, who was only a couple of inches taller than she was. “Actually, I think that’s perfect. Maybe not stark white, but an off-white, something a little warmer.”

Helen squeezed before letting Trinity go. “That’s agreed then. And what about the roses your sister suggested?”

Nodding her agreement, she brought one of the heavy blooms to her nose and inhaled the sweet fragrance. It made her smile. “Yes, I like them.” She reached out and picked up a delicate spray of tiny, lacy white flowers. “With these… I like the way they look together.”

“Gypsophila,” her mother stated with a satisfied smile. “Very traditional.”

“Really?” Who knew?

“Right, I’ll get all that taken care of,” Helen declared. “Six bridesmaids you said, right?”

All Trinity could do was nod as her mother took charge.

“We’ll do buttonholes the same, and I’ll order a corsage for myself. What about the groom’s mother? Should I do the same for her?”

A pang hit Trinity square in the chest. This new closeness with her own mother only made her feel worse for Christian, and even for herself. Krista would have loved to be involved in all this.

Biting her lip, Trinity blinked away the easy tears. Her emotions were so goddamn volatile right now. The slightest little thing could set her off. She even cried at the odd TV commercial, for heaven’s sake. “Yes. Get a corsage for Krista too. I’m not certain she’ll make it, but if she does, I’d like to have one available.”

If her mother had an opinion, she didn’t say anything. Just made another note in the little hard-back book she wrote everything down in and carried on. “Okay, now how about the cake…”

Later that day, Trinity ran all the decisions past Christian, even though he’d given her carte blanche to do what she liked - and a limitless bank card.

“Mother says the invitations will be ready the day after tomorrow, so she’s sending them all out at the end of the week.”

Christian agreed, but Trinity had the distinct feeling he wasn’t really present for the conversation. Nor had he really taken much notice of any of the arrangements she’d told him about. Pursing her lips, Trinity added, “And for the reception we thought we might hire some carnival performers. You know, stilt walkers, a couple of fire-eaters, maybe even see if we can find a good old-fashioned lion tamer, complete with lion. That should liven things up, don’t you think?”

Her soon-to-be husband simply nodded his head.

“Really?” she asked, putting him on the spot as her temper - never far from the surface these days - started to rise.

“Yep, everything sounds great. I know whatever you and your mother come up with will be awesome.”

And there it was. That little hitch in the way he said the word ‘mother.’ As quickly as her irritation flared, it died again, and she crossed over and sat herself on his knee.

“Can you repeat what I just said to you?” Trinity asked, not mad, just curious. She didn’t believe he truly wasn’t listening.

Christian blinked and looked at her, finally appearing a little less distracted. “Ah… you said you wanted to hire a lion tamer…” He stopped and frowned, looking at her through narrowed eyes. “Really? You want our wedding reception to be a carnival?”

Trinity smacked him playfully on the shoulder. “No, I don’t. I just wanted to see if you were listening.”

Dropping his forehead to her shoulder, Christian sighed. “I’m sorry. I was listening, I just…”

He stopped short, but Trinity already knew what the problem was and felt tears welling again.

She stood up and wrapped her arms around her middle, walking to the window and looking out without really seeing anything. A bit like Christian had been listening without really hearing anything.

Closing her eyes, she huffed out a breath and said what needed to be said. “Look Christian, perhaps we should just call the whole thing off. I don’t want to marry someone who’s not really into the whole thing.”