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I immediately lose every ounce of smartass. Because he looks serious.
His grip tightens on the steering wheel.
I stare out the window. Uncomfortable.
It’s halfway through the afternoon by the time we get back to the house. I was starting to wonder if I’d ever get out of there.
During breakfast, Derek’s mother seemed sober. And kind of bitchy. She wasn’t nearly as fun as she was when she was drunk. She was not happy about the gossip blog, about people finding out we’d gotten married, about not getting to organize a bunch of hoopla for her son’s wedding, and at first seemed like she had plans to take it out on me.
Derek quickly set her straight about that. Despite that the offending blog post had apparently already been taken down, she inundated me with questions about Adam and his accident and that seemed to me like it was out of concern for how someone in the Steele family would be seen, not about any semblance of concern for Adam.
Any question or comment from her that was even remotely bitchy, Derek would answer, sticking up for me and assuring her none of this was my fault.
If she was even-tempered with a question, he’d let me answer.
I hate to admit it, but it was kind of refreshing to have someone stick up for me.
He declared, “I saw her and wanted her, Mom. I’ve already explained that I made it happen. Me. All this is on me. Except for the bitch that posted about it – I’m dealing with that. Chloe’s innocent in all of this.”
Derek’s father vacillated from being preoccupied with his phone to paying close attention to me and how I was handling everything. His eyes were cold the entire time except that each time his attention strayed to his wife, that coldness vanished. It was intriguing to watch.
When Derek’s mother switched gears and began talking about the upcoming anniversary party, asking what I would be wearing and letting me know I would be photographed with the family, Derek told her Grace’s friend Nicola was going to outfit me. She seemed decided she’s have her designer work with Nicola to make sure I was dressed well. She requested that if I’m unhappy and want to change my outfit, I should reach out to Carson with that information and that Carson would interface with her assistant. Talk about a waste of resources. But it wasn’t a bad thing that I wouldn’t have to deal with my new mother-in-law directly all that much outside of public Steele family functions, which Derek already assured were few and far between.
She had quite the preoccupation with whether or not I was capable of presenting myself as a member of the Steele family. I was ready to remind these people that I was now only a member of their family by a marriage I’d been forced into and the word family did not come to mind as a group descriptor, but didn’t think that me biting back at a mother who was disappointed she didn’t see her son get married would be productive, so I kept my mouth shut.
“Is Sabrina going to come? Have we found out?” Mrs. Steele asked her husband.
“Eli’s working on that,” he replied.
She sighed heavily. She’d been doing that a lot.
“You should just order her to be there, Michael. That’ll settle that,” she stated, examining her manicure.
“Eli has asked me to allow him the courtesy of dealing with his own wife. So I’m going to do that, my love.”
“Well hopefully Elijah handles things with her soon,” she snapped and then turned her gaze to me. “Appearances are important in a family such as ours. The media looks for the smallest thing to create sensational headlines.” She aimed that remark at me and then added, “This is why you’re here today, so we can adequately prepare you.” She looked at Derek then. “I think you should have taken her on that trip, Derek, given them zero access to you two.”
I knew from the little I had read about Sabrina Steele as Elijah’s estranged wife that the local media was frothing at the mouth for the facts around the split.
“They won’t gain access to Chloe,” Derek told his mom. “The sooner we wrap up here, the sooner I can get her back home.”
“There are two paps outside the gate,” Derek’s father piped up. “I suspected they’d be here this morning, expecting you both to show up, but they arrived ten minutes after you got here. Our pilot says there are also a few hanging around at the airport.”
Derek replied, “We’re not leaving the state this week after all. We’ll probably head to Vermont next week for a little getaway. We’ll wait for things to die down before we take an official honeymoon.”
At that point, Carson came in to announce the photographer was ready when we were, and we went to Mr. Steele’s office and then outside to the gazebo where they’d renewed their vows on Sunday.
Copious pictures were taken of the four of us. Derek and myself. Derek and his father. Me and Derek’s mother. Derek and his mother. And many photos of just me from multiple angles, with my hair up and then down again. I was also given a black power suit to change into with a blue shirt that they said made my eyes really pop. The photographer told me people find you more genuine if you wear your eye color. Who knew? And then they did several more headshots inside Mr. Steele’s office by his fireplace and while that was happening, Derek was in a closed door meeting with some PR people and Derek’s father had to duck out to get to a meeting, so I was left with Derek’s mom and her media person, Donna.
Derek’s mom was preoccupied with her phone for a chunk of the session with the media person, but then her mood shifted, and she became friendly, happy, almost girlish.
She said she had to dash, that she had a salon appointment and that she was meeting her husband after his meeting later this afternoon to join him on an impromptu New York City trip that they decided to take since we’d canceled our trip, freeing up the jet. She gave me air kisses and left me with Donna, who then worked hard to run me through my paces with quizzes and fake interviews, trying to trip me up and getting increasingly frustrated with my lack of tripping. The entire thing was recorded, which I found extremely annoying. She wanted me to mess up, wanted to correct me and tell me how I should respond instead, but I felt like she was frustrated by the fact that I didn’t make any big enough blunders. She probably wanted to prove her worth but needed me to be a bumbling buffoon.
As Derek came into the doorway of his father’s office, he leaned against the doorframe and watched as I informed Donna that I work in marketing, that I took media studies in school, and that I’m not about to trip over my words and make myself look stupid in public. She very bitchily informed me that there was more than just my reputation at stake here. At that point, Derek intervened instead of continuing to stare at me like a lovesick puppy, and told her we were done.
She looked me over with a miserable “hmpf” and handed me a handbook on media etiquette, asking me to memorize it to the letter.
I have no intention of speaking with the media. If they paint me as a bitch, so be it. I’m telling myself this, but I’m terrified that I’ll be spineless when it comes down to it. Because I feel like that. Like I should be stronger. Like I should know my way out of this situation I’m in.
