“Oh, stop fussing. It looked homemade anyway. I’ve been embarrassed for you all afternoon.”
I slowly looked up.
Joyce shrugged.
“Excuse me?”
“Well, someone had to say it.”
“Paige spent months making this!”
Joyce shrugged.
“Perhaps she should’ve spent a little longer.”
“Right now.”
I stepped between her and my daughter.
“You owe Paige an apology. Right now.”
Instead, Joyce deliberately wiped her wine-soaked fingers on a clean fold of my skirt.
“If this is the best she can do, she doesn’t belong in this family. I told Colin that a long time ago.”
Paige went pale.
I turned back.
“I can fix it, Mom,” she whispered.
I pulled her against me.
“Sweetheart, you don’t have to fix anything.”
Then I turned back to Joyce.
“This dress means more to me than anything you’ve ever bought. And if you think you’re going to insult my daughter at my wedding—”
