Like Mama sometimes said, “Piss or get off the pot.”
When I’d said yes, I’d ignored the small voice in my head chiding me about how a sudden wedding wasn’t what I wanted. Boyd had said four months was plenty of time. A Valentine’s Day wedding would be perfect. He’d never forget our anniversary, haha. I’d laughed at that, when inside, I’d felt let down in some small way.
But my baby sister had gotten married. I was so much older than her, had always looked out for her, yet she’d found the love of her life.
I had Boyd.
The insistent voice in my head was back, listing Boyd’s shortcomings. I’d shut her up for so long, it was second nature, but today that bitch refused to be quiet.
He asked me to dressextra nicewhen we were meeting his fellow associates. Did he think I was a frump otherwise?
He’d tossed some of my favorite old shirts, and I’d had to hide a blanket an old boyfriend’s mother had crocheted me so he wouldn’t throw it out too.
He dominated all the nights that used to be girls’ nights, planning festive and fun dates instead until all my friends had moved on without me.
That voice was getting loud now, echoing through my head and blowing the blinders off.
Junie squeezed my shoulder. Her hair was streaked with red, which I’d heard about from Boyd and his mother. I told my sister the color didn’t matter. I wanted Junie at my side, and if she had neon-yellow or ink-blackhair, I didn’t care. Her style differed from Wynter’s and Autumn’s. She’d covered the red by tying her hair in a knot at the base of her neck.
“Are you trying to hide the red in your hair, June?” I didn’t use her nickname, so she’d know I wanted a straight answer.
Guilt and fear flashed across her face.
I narrowed my eyes. “Did Boyd talk to you?”
She chewed the inside of her cheek. In her was a war—tell me the truth or lie. “Mrs. Harrington did,” she finally said.
Corinne Harrington. Boyd’s mom and a downright witch. Was she the reason Boyd had urged me to add more and more blond highlights to my strawberry-blond strands? Why was hair color an issue anyway?
Why was I doing everything he asked?
Boyd’s mother was also on that voice’s list. Corinne had casually mentioned that we had to limit our numbers to somehow exclude the fosters my adoptive mom had taken in. Mae Bailey loved all her foster children, and while Lane and Cruz had only started working with her this summer, and while they were adults, they were already engraved on her heart ashers. Not only were they Myles’s brothers, they were decent men. Guests I had refused to let her leave off the invites.
But the crowding, Summer, Corinne had said.The church should not be bursting at the seams.
Boyd had given me the silent treatment for two days after I’d told his mother that if my family and friends weren’t here, I wouldn’t be either.
Now they were present, and I didn’t want to be.
“Summer?” Wynter asked, grabbing a stool and dragging it over, heedless of the train of her dress or hereight-month baby belly. I had wanted to wait to get married until Wynter had the baby. I didn’t want her to be uncomfortable on my happy day, and I didn’t want her to stand in heels when she was ready to deliver any day.
Mrs. Harrington thought Wynter’s baby belly would be a disgrace. A blemish in all the pictures. Her aghast reaction was the only reason I’d sided with Boyd to have the wedding earlier.
Why wait for spring when we can be expecting our own child by then?he’d asked.
I’d looked forward to having kids, but when he’d continued to ask when I’d get my IUD taken out, I had said after the wedding. I’d made the excuse that I didn’t want my hormones in turmoil during the ceremony. No clue if that was a thing, but he’d quit pressuring me.
How many times had I formed workarounds for his personality?
My heart stammered again. I pressed my palm against my chest. What was going on?
“Summer,” Wynter said again. I didn’t realize I’d taken my gaze off her and was staring at the perfectly polished hardwood floor.
“Yeah?”
“Do you want to get married?”
I nodded, but tears welled and spilled onto my cheeks. “No,” I whispered. I shook my head, blinking and getting mascara on my cheeks. Waterproof my ass. “No, I’m just stressing.”
