Crowned by Hate (Crowned 1)

“Oh truly, it’s no problem.” I add a hint of a sweet smile with my reply, like I wasn’t just thinking about my legs being open. “Everything has moved rather fast, wedding day included.”

“That is true, I guess,” she confirms, as a maid walks into the room carrying a silver platter and placing it on the little coffee table that sits between us.

Bryant’s mom smiles at me briefly with a small flick of her eyelashes. Leaning over to pour tea into both china mugs, she sneaks a glance at me. “Autumn,” she answers my unspoken question innocently.

“Pardon?” I question, taking the mug she’s handing me. I place it on my lap as she sits back in the sofa.

“My name.” She quirks an eyebrow, but it’s not in a snobby judgmental way, more in a way as she knew I didn’t know her name but she was saving me the embarrassment of having to ask.

“Shit.” I let out a defeated sigh, my shoulders slacking. “I’m so sorry.” I truly do feel terrible. I mean, Jesus, I don’t even know my mother-in-law’s name.

She giggles, taking a sip of her tea and leans back into her chair. “It’s entirely not your fault. If my son had done this the traditional way, we wouldn’t have had this issue.” I hear the word ‘son’ in slow motion and watch as her mouth curves around each syllable. It sets something off inside of me. Up until this point, I had forgotten all about Bryant’s brother and what I had done. It’s made me somewhat realize how dangerously close I have been riding to the ‘attachment’ line. I can’t let this feeling get too comfortable, with her, or anyone in his family, or hell, even Bryant, because truthfully, I still don’t know what it is he actually wants with me (if my gut is correct which tells me it’s not just because of my father, but again, my gut has been wrong in the past), and also, if I do manage to build a solid foundation with his family, what will happen when they find out what I’d done? I’d lose more people, so no, I need to remember what is going on right now and not get sucked into Bryant’s… whatever the fuck kind of juju he manages to put over me.

“So! Photos!” Autumn grins, pulling a large —and what looks to be very heavy—chest over toward her. I go to get up off my chair, wanting to help her because honestly, it looks heavier than her, when I hear Bryant’s voice from behind me. “Mom…” he warns, and I cast a glance over my shoulder. Walking in with an unlit cigar between his fingers comes the king himself.

“Oh, Bryant. Leave us alone to talk gossip, and go back to your father.”

Bryant looks at me and then looks back to his mom. Can he read my mind? Can he see that I had a brief moment of sadness, thinking about his brother? How will I react when I see a photo of his brother? Will it set off a panic attack followed by a shit storm of drama as I unintentionally display my guilty memories for everyone to see?

“Come…” Bryant nudges his head toward the double porch doors, breaking through my slight panic. Everything sucks back into reality, and I look back at Autumn, not really wanting to leave her because I don’t want to come off as rude, but also, I sort of want to leave just in case that scenario I played out in vivid detail inside my head becomes a reality.

Yikes.

We can’t have that.

I plaster one of my go-to cute smiles at her, hoping she will maybe let me off the hook.

She rolls her eyes with (what I think is) a knowing smile. “Newlyweds. Don’t be too long. I have some good photos here.”

I stand to my feet. “Thank you for the tea, Autumn, I won’t be long.”

She smiles sweetly and then flips open an album, getting lost back in what I’m guessing is some of her most favorable memories. I’ve not thought about having children much, only because, well, I don’t know, I haven’t thought about it. Between cankles, the feeling of your guts and ovaries being ripped open and then your vajayjay literally getting ripped open, it lost its appeal. Not to mention mom friends…. Yeah, I don’t see how that would go down very well considering my favorite F word is ‘fuck’ and my second favorite F word is Friday because Friday usually means drinking followed by getting fucked.

Point being, I’d be a shit mom, so I’m doing the universe a favor, it would seem.

Bryant tugging on my arm brings me out of my reverie, so I follow him out the porch doors, the late afternoon sun kissing my skin instantly and the whispering sound of wind whirling between the branches of the trees.