She pretends she didn’t hear. She always does.
By the time the plates are cleared, by me, the air is brittle. Sienna offers dessert and is told, “No, thank you, Rebecca.”
“Sienna,” I say firmly.
I watch Sienna’s eyes, and the next time she stands to gather napkins, I catch her hand and shake my head.Sit. Stay with me,I say silently, and she does.
I realize I’ve been clenching my teeth for an hour straight. The pain is a small, human thing I can control. The bigger thing in me, dark and protective, paces behind my ribs and wants out.
“Before you leave,” I say, standing.
“Leave? Darling, we only just got here,” my mother says with a fake laugh.
Everyone else joins in, and I glance at Sienna. I can tell that she’s ready for them to go, too. I just need to do one more thing, and then I’ll be able to kick them all out for the night.
“We have an announcement,” I say, taking Sienna’s hand in mine.
Sienna’s fingers tense around mine. She stands next to me. The fire throws copper into her black hair.
“We’re getting married,” I say. “Tomorrow.”
Shock ripples through the room. Elise’s glass stops an inch from her mouth. Brandon’s eyebrows climb like they’re scaling a paywall. My mother’s smile becomes an organza mask. My father’s jaw tightens a fraction, the loudest he ever gets.
“Tomorrow?” Victoria says with an airy laugh. “Spontaneous.”
“How very… romantic,” Elise says, wrinkling her nose as if she smells something poor.
“Expedited,” my father says. “Why the rush?”
“Because I want to marry her,” I answer.
The simplest truth is the hardest for them to process.
“Of course you do,” my mother says, as if humoring a child. “And of course we are… thrilled. We should—where are you registered? We could?—”
“We don’t need anything,” Sienna says quickly, fingers threading with mine. “Really.”
My mother’s eyesfinallyland on Sienna. She does a long blink, cataloging her. Black hair, blue eyes, curves, and kindness, a dress that wasn’t picked out by a stylist. She puts the pieces together and hates the picture because it wasn’t curated for her.
“Well,” she says, smoothing her skirt. “Congratulations.”
It’s the kind of congratulations you give to a stranger who won a raffle.
Sienna swallows, finally cracking under the pressure from my family.
“Excuse me,” she says softly. “I’m going to run to the bathroom.”
She touches the small of my back under the pretense of moving past me, and that little private press of her fingers steadies me in ways my family never could.
She slips down the hall, and the second she disappears, the room sheds all pretense.
“Heath.” My mother’s voice softens by habit, a tactic. “You can’t be serious.”
My father doesn’t bother with soft. “This is reckless.”
Elise crosses her legs. “She’s not… you. She won’t fit.”
“She’s not a jacket,” I bite out.
