Backstage Romance: An Austen-Inspired Romantic Comedy Box Set Gigi Blume (fantasy books to read .txt) 📖

sat back in his chair, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s an incredible story if it’s true.”

“Why wouldn’t it be true?”

“Have you heard both sides of the story?”

“You sound like Jane.”

“She might have a point there.”

“Well, if you knew Will Darcy, you wouldn’t doubt it. He’s the most arrogant, vain, prideful man I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing.”

“Pride,” offered Mary, “is different from vanity. Pride can have a lot to do with one’s accomplishments. For example, I’m proud of my grades.”

“And we’re all proud of you, dear,” Dad appeased with a nod.

“But vanity,” she continued, “that has more to do with one’s preoccupation of what other people’s opinions of them are. So like I want Mom and Dad to be proud of me, that’s fine. But I shouldn’t care what the popular girls at school think about me. That’s vanity.”

“Thank you, Mary,” I deadpanned. “So very helpful.”

“Oh, yes,” my father winked at me. “Your sister is a young lady of deep reflection.”

“And she quotes great books,” I agreed.

“In any case,” said Dad. “If Will Darcy really is the devil Jorge paints him to be, there’s nothing we can very well do about it. Just don’t tell your mother.”

“Don’t tell your mother what, exactly?” Mom had her phone in her hand and entered the kitchen with her war face.

Mary, always seeking approval from either one of my parents, couldn’t keep anything from them and blurted, “Will Darcy is a jerk-face.”

My mouth fell open. “Mary!”

Also—jerk-face? She was adorably juvenile.

“Oh, I knew that,” said my mother with a wave of her hand. “Everybody knows that. Don’t you people read?”

That was an ironic statement coming from Mom because the only reading she did was on gossip sites. Dad and I stared at her for a few seconds because all this time we thought her celebrity crush on Martin Darcy extended toward his son. I surmised by her candid dismissal of Mary’s statement that Mom had found some dirt on Will in the tabloids, and apparently, it didn’t bother her much.

“Then what are you so bent out of shape about?” Dad asked. “I know you didn’t come in here for a cup of tea.”

Dad knew Mom so well, it was scary. Or rather, Mom was scary and Dad knew that so well. Or something.

Mom held up her phone and shook it for emphasis. “You’ll never guess what I saw on Facebook.”

“You’re right,” said Dad. “I’ll never guess.”

“Well, don’t you want to know?”

“I know you want to tell me. And where am I to go at this time of night to avoid hearing it?”

“Fine,” she exclaimed. “I won’t even tell you.”

“If that’s what you want.” He smiled.

Mom huffed, stomped one foot, and turned toward the door but changed her mind and immediately spun back around.

“It’s Mrs. Lucas. She had the nerve to post this on Facebook.”

She unlocked her screen and handed me the phone. I glanced at it with amusement. It was a video of a monkey playing the accordion.

“That’s funny,” I said, laughing.

She bent her head to see what was so funny.

“Oh, wait.” She grabbed the phone from my hands and tapped around to find what she was looking for. “Here.”

I accepted the phone, again assaulted by Mrs. Lucas’ newsfeed. It was mostly political nonsense and photos of her garden. But one post in particular stood out in bold lettering on a bright pink background.

“SO PROUD OF MY DAUGHTER AND HER NEW BOYFRIEND”

All caps. Somebody needed to inform that woman of internet etiquette.

I looked up at Mom. “So?”

“I did a little digging. That so-called new boyfriend is the same man who wants to date you, Lizzie. That choreographer.”

My sister took her turn with the phone and scrolled to the comments where there was a photo of Colin taken off the internet.

“I knew the Lucases were jealous of us, but I didn’t think they’d go so far as to lie.” Mom paced the small space of the kitchen. “It makes me so angry to have neighbors who only think about themselves.”

“What do you care who their daughter is dating?” Dad questioned.

“Because that famous choreographer is sweet on Lizzie!”

Mom was practically screaming by now. Any more excitement, and we’d have to give her a paper bag to breathe.

“I don’t like him, Mom,” I said, trying to calm her. “I told you that.”

Her face morphed into a scowl that Maleficent would envy.

“I didn’t put you through college so you can just throw every opportunity out the window. You are going back there to tell that man you’ve changed your mind.”

“What are you talking about?” I cried. “One, I don’t know where he is right this second, and two, he’s dating Charlotte.”

“Lizzie, don’t you realize you are committing career suicide? Call him on the phone and apologize. I’m sure you can salvage something out of this fiasco.”

“What part of ‘he’s dating Charlotte’ don’t you understand?”

“I am still paying for your bachelor’s degree,” she growled. “I wanted you to be a lawyer, but noooooo! You had to be an actress. You swore to me that you would work hard and make it all worth it.”

“I am working hard.”

“This man could give you the push your career needs. Charlotte stole him from you. So, go steal him back.”

“Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s boyfriend,” said Mary.

“Go to bed, Mary.” Mom was almost ready for that paper bag. “Tell her, John. Tell her what she has to do.”

Dad arched his brow and let go of a deep breath. He glanced at me, glanced back at Mom, and back at me again, and when he spoke, his calm, soft voice was almost a whisper.

“Well, Lizzie, it seems your mother has some strong opinions about this.”

“I’ll pay you back for college,” I said. I was so tired of Mom bringing it up whenever she wanted to throw something in my face.

“Tell her she has to call that choreographer,” she demanded.

Dad looked from Mom to me. This was ridiculous.

“He’s not even that famous, Mom.”

“Tell her, John. If she doesn’t call that man…” She paused