His curiosity was piqued. Who on earth had Payton so terrified to take their call?
Finally, she steeled her back and pressed accept, bringing the phone to her ear. “Hello, Mother.”
Since stepping off the airplane, Payton had done a good job—no, miraculous job—of pretending that nothing was wrong with her life, choosing instead to focus on one thing. Getting to Puerto Vallarta and being there for the single most important event in her best friend’s life.
Payton had become a pro at compartmentalizing her life over the years, and today would be no different. Besides, she’d have plenty of time to fall apart when she was alone and in the sanctity and privacy of her luxury suite at the hotel. And she had almost succeeded. Until she remembered the trip to Cabo with Brad, followed by the image of him and that…that very naked woman, doing Lord knew what back in New York.
And now her mother was calling.
Does she know?
What was Payton going to tell her?
But she shouldn’t have worried about providing any kind of explanation to her mother when she answered the phone because the woman wouldn’t let her get a word in for several minutes. Starting first with why Payton hadn’t called as soon as she landed, leaving her mother to hear the news of the emergency landing after the fact and spending the past hour in a panic, before seguing into the “ludicrous voicemail” Payton left for the wedding planner.
Cripes. Payton had forgotten about that hasty message in the chaos that followed. She placed her fingers to the side of her temple and rubbed. What had she been thinking?
“Have you completely lost your mind?” Payton held the phone away from her ear as her mother yelled. “What on earth do you mean leaving some crazy message for Camille saying your wedding is off? I had to have the silly girl play the message for me, since I was ready to fire her, right then for making up lies.”
Payton could almost hear that argument, and see poor Camille flinching under her mother’s passive aggressive tirade. Camille had assured them early on she’d handled many different personalities and nothing would prevent her from throwing them a successful wedding.
But that had been before she met Emily Vaughn.
“Really, Payton. Of all the asinine games for you to play at such a pivotal time in the planning—the girl had been about to call and cancel the ballroom at Grand America before she came to her senses and gave me a call first. What do you have to say for yourself? Why would you do something so reckless? Have you been drinking the water even though I distinctly told you not to? Are you on some sort of mind-altering drug? What is it? And where on earth are you? Are you back in Dallas? Tell me you’re returning home and forgetting the ridiculous notion of going to Mexico alone.”
Payton took a deep breath in. Where on earth to start?
Her wedding, she supposed. Was it still on?
An image of Brad’s sleepy bedroom eyes flooded her mind, followed by the cheap image of “Boobalicious’s” envious rack swaying as she handed him the phone.
Payton wasn’t an idiot. There was no way that what she saw was any kind of misunderstanding, no matter how many voicemails Brad left her before she’d finally blocked his calls. He had cheated on her. Lord knew how many times.
There was simply no wedding to salvage.
Some Justin Bieber song was suddenly blaring from the radio, and she couldn’t help but whip her head ar
ound to glare at Cruz. Was he playing with her now or did he really have an affinity for horrendous music?
He held his hands up in apology and reached over, flipping the radio off. But now the silence was doubly loud, not just in the car, but on the other end of the line.
What was she going to tell her mother? Her stomach roiled again and bile rose to her throat. Could she tell her mother, now, with Cruz all ears to hear how her once perfect life had suddenly fallen apart?
It was so humiliating.
Her mother, still not having an answer, started again. “Payton? What has come over you? You need to stop thinking of yourself and think of everyone who is relying on you. Me, the planner, your father, and, of course, Brad most of all. What would he think about that little trick you played? He would be as hurt and outraged as I am. To turn your wedding into a joke like that.”
What would Brad think? That was rich. This time she snorted.
Here her mother was accusing her of being selfish when all her life Payton had bent herself into a pretzel trying to please everyone around her—her mother most of all. She’d sacrificed her career trying to become what her mother wanted—essentially someone’s trophy wife. And for what? So Brad could boink some skank when they should be spending a romantic vacation seeing her best friend get married?
She was done. It was over. She was living her life, starting now, on her terms.
That plane trip had offered her more than time to think. It had offered a new start.
“Mother, I’m sorry that you think I’ve been selfish here, but I meant what I told Camille. It’s off. There will be no grandiose reception, no stuffy church wedding, no Christmas stocking with Brad’s name to add to the Vaughn mantle. Unlike you, I am not going to spend the next thirty years ignoring his exploits. And if you want to know what I’m talking about, then maybe you can call Brad and ask to speak to Miss Boobalicious—the giant-breasted Playboy bunny sharing his bed last time I called. For now, I’m heading to my best friend’s wedding, where I am going to at least see someone get their happily ever after. I’ll see you Monday. Good-bye.”
Before her mother could spew any more hysterics, Payton hung up.