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Stone family drama
Adam’s POV
“Well,” Anabelle said as she ended the call, a resolute look on her face.
“Well what?” I demanded, narrowing my gaze. She had better not be about to say what I was thinking or shit was going to hit the fucking fan.
“The cake is going to be thirty minutes late,” Anabelle’s words put a sour taste in my mouth.
“Hell no!” I hissed, clenching my hands in a fist.
“What is it?!” My mother yelled from her bedroom and Anabelle shot me a warning look.
I had forgotten I was standing in my mother’s hallway, waiting for her as the stylist dressed her up. She had been so teary when she found out I’d invited her favorite stylist from some TV series she used to watch, shipping the spunky lady all the way from France. I was happy if she was. Isabella Stone de
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