Chapter 2 - What Everyone Kept Pretending Not to Notice
Owen and I had been together since we were sixteen. By twenty-eight we'd survived college decisions, bad apartments, job changes, and more family dinners than I could count. I loved him. I never once doubted that.
Denise was the problem.
She'd spent years comparing me to Priscilla's daughter, Sabrina. Sabrina had money, taste, beautiful dinner parties, and — according to Denise — everything I supposedly lacked. The strange part was I barely knew her. She'd always been perfectly friendly to me. The whole rivalry existed almost entirely in Denise's mouth.
Owen defended me every time. "Enough, Mom. Stop comparing them. I'm marrying Vera."
He always said the right things. Then a few days would pass and we'd all be sitting around Denise's table again, pretending none of it had happened.
I helped with that part. Whenever Denise crossed a line, I made a joke, or I told Owen to just forget it. I thought being easygoing made me the mature one. Mostly, it just made things easier for Denise.
Even that morning, she'd found me while I was getting ready. She stood behind my chair and touched one of the flowers woven into my braid.
"Well," she said. "You certainly committed to it."
I met her eyes in the mirror. "Committed to what?"
"The whole rustic look."
"I like it. It's our theme, Denise."
"Oh, I can tell." Her fingers trailed down the length of the braid.
I shifted forward, putting space between us. "Please don't touch it. It took two hours to get right."
She withdrew her hand. "Relax. I wasn't going to ruin it." Then she smiled. "Today's supposed to be full of surprises."
Before I could ask what that meant, Owen knocked. "Jill— Vera?"
"You can't come in, love!"
He opened the door anyway, covering his eyes. "Mom!"
I laughed. "You're safe."
He lowered his hand and saw me, and his whole expression changed. "Wow."
I touched my braid. "Good wow?"
"The kind where I forget why I even knocked."
Denise sighed. "Sabrina would've chosen something more elegant."
Owen turned on her. "Mom. Stop comparing them. Respect my wife."
Denise grabbed her purse and walked out. Owen shut the door behind her, then looked at me. "What did she say before I got here?"
I straightened the brushes on the counter. "Nothing worth carrying down the aisle."
"You keep joking when she gets to you."
"And you keep confronting her, and then three days later we're all eating at her house like nothing happened."
I stopped moving the brushes. "We're not solving your mother ten minutes before our wedding."
He crouched beside me. "After today?"
May you like
I nodded. "After today."
At the time, I genuinely thought postponing the problem meant Denise couldn't touch our wedding. I had no idea she'd already decided otherwise.
