Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 107453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
She frowns. “Really?”
“I swear.”
Propping her up is second nature. I don’t mind being her shoulder to lean on. That’s what I was when my father died three years ago, and of course I’ll be her shoulder now. I’m responsible for her woes, anyway.
“There has to be something I can do.” She gestures to the fridge, eyes flickering with hope. “Can I pack something for your flight? A lunch? I have crackers and grapes, and I can whip up a sandwich like that.” She snaps her fingers to punctuate her offer.
I’d sound like an asshole if I said what I was thinking. I bet they have amazing snacks on a private jet, like chocolate-covered strawberries.
I really should save my appetite.
I fight off a smile, not sure I want her to see exactly how excited I am to check out a plane. “Thanks, Mom. But I’m not hungry.”
She waggles some freshly washed grapes in front of me. “Grapes are so good.”
“I’m okay,” I say as I finish drying the last dish and hang the towel on a hook by the sink.
She’s quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she says softly, her voice quaking, then strengthening. “I should have known better. I should have seen it coming. I hate that he did this.”
And her emotion escalated quickly from sorrow to anger.
“Me, too, but I swear I’ll be okay. Apparently, he was flirting with the waitress at his bachelor party, so it’s all for the best.” I resist adding anything more. I’m not sure I want to tell her I was having doubts myself. Nascent, unformed ones, but doubts, nonetheless. If I confess to second thoughts, she’ll ask why, and then she’ll dig, and I might say, “I wanted to make Dad happy.”
Then she’d be sad all over again.
Best just to let her think I’m the tough, brave girl she’s always seen in me.
“I brought the veil back,” I say, carefully chipper. I gesture to the front of the house where I left the bag holding the veil. I hand-washed it last night, and it’s safe and sound with her. The ring is back at my apartment in the Mission, the tiny one-bedroom I leased a few months ago since it’s close to my Hayes Valley salon. Aiden was going to move in once we were married. He honestly never got around to it beforehand. Too busy with the pie shop an hour away, he said. In retrospect, maybe it was a subconscious choice we both made to not merge our lives.
I guess hindsight really is twenty-twenty.
“I’m glad it’s back where it belongs,” I say, chipper, just like I was when she and Dad gave each other the silent treatment during those years when their marriage was on the rocks.
“You can wear it when you m—” She breaks off, catching herself before she starts planning my next wedding, and shakes her head. “Well, you have fun. I’m glad those boys are going with you. I always liked them. Let me know if you need anything.” She runs a hand down my hair. “Not that I can give you beauty tips anymore. In a few short years, you’re better than I ever was.”
“Oh, stop. You’re an amazing stylist too.” I give her a final goodbye, and after thirty minutes that felt like forever, I peel away from her and head out to my car.
Relieved to have that uncomfortable conversation behind me, I take a moment before I start the car to finish a bunch of emails I wrote last week to clients. I send each one a personalized happy birthday email, making sure to check in on life details they shared while I did their hair—the new TV show they started binging, their aunt’s hip surgery, their boyfriend’s new job.
With that done, I head to Doctor Insomnia’s near Novato to meet Ivy and Trina. They texted to tell me they had a honeymoon present for me, and when I reach the coffee shop, they’re already at a table outside with their goodest boys and girls. Trina’s three-legged rescue pup Nacho sits dutifully at her feet, checking out the dogs walking by. Ivy’s tiny senior girl, Roxy, is staring longingly at the vanilla latte Ivy’s drinking.
“Hey, bestie,” Trina says, thrusting a cup at me when I sit in the empty chair. It’s my fave—a mango smoothie.
I take a fueling drink, then I don’t waste a second. They get to know the full truth. “I didn’t want to marry him in the first place. I was having mega doubts for the last few weeks. They were so strong I was literally about to tell you before he burst into the bridal room, and maybe he kinda did me a favor? But I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner. Forgive me?”
Trina’s smile disappears. “Seriously?”
Shit. She’s mad? “You’re annoyed?”