I toy with the bills, knowing she just wants to protect me. She wasn’t the best provider when I was little. But she did what she could. I know she did. The fact that life was a bitch to her isn’t on her. She always loved me, even if she didn’t always know how to show me, or protect me, or provide for me in the classic way of a mom.
I pretend to wait for her in the car, but really it’s to hide the bills in the glove compartment. We’ll argue about those for the sake of it on Monday when she finds out, or maybe tomorrow. But like she said, tonight is for fun.
“Kiara said you should go rest in her van if you need to. It’s nice and comfy,” I say as we drive away from her mobile home.
“The Barbie van?”
I laugh at her accurate description. “Her Uncle Bill is walking her down the aisle. He’s fun. And really nice. Maybe I’ll introduce you.”
She grunts. Mom’s history with men is a pain point in our relationship, but I’m trying to move us beyond that. “Why don’t you focus on finding a nice man yourself. I wouldn’t mind grandbabies, you know.”
I nearly choke at her words. “Uh… Mom?”
“What? You’re not getting any younger.”
The smile and initial laughter of my surprise reaction die quickly in my throat as images of Mom’s only husband flash in front of my eyes. I could never trust a man with my life the way she did.
And that’s what marriage is: a complete abandonment of one’s self, one’s liberty, potentially one’s life, to another person with more power.
I can’t tell her this, but she’s the reason I’ll never marry, or even have a steady relationship.
“Ugh, of coursethesepeople are here. They’re always everywhere, aren’t they?” she mumbles, frowning in the direction of Noah Callaway, the only man who makes my heart skip a beat.
“Oh my, what a beautiful setting.” As we reach the park, her mood swing is easy to follow: the setting is simply spectacular.
The river glistens under the sun, a flock of birds rises from a tree, twirling in the air before diving beyond the hill. All the town is slowly gathering on the chairs, and I spot several of Mom’s friends.
“Why don’t I drop you up here, and I’ll go park behind town hall,” I say.
“Oh, there’s Aunt Angela. I’ll walk with her,” she says, pointing to my grandmother’s sister.
Mom calls her Aunt Angela, but to everyone else including me, she’s Ms. Angela, Emerald Creek’s retired third-grade teacher, current owner of a bed-and-breakfast, secretary of the select board (our governing body), self-appointed unpaid employee of the stores she deems need her help, and most active member on ECHoes, our own social media (aka gossip central).
Among other things.
Oh and today, she’s playing the part of wedding coordinator.
By the time I park and get back to the tent, she’s dispensing the last instructions. Everyone seems to be here, from littleSkye in an adorable light pink tutu dress all the way to… Noah Callaway, looking amazingly handsome in a suit and bow tie. My stomach does a little happy flip again, as it always does when it comes to Noah, but I quickly chastise myself.
Noah is way out of my league, which is probably the only reason I allowed myself to hold a torch for him for years. Nothing was ever going to happen between us, so fantasizing about him was safe. When he got engaged, I realized that crush I nurtured was hurting me, and it wasn’t based on anything other than he’s the embodiment of the perfect man, the exception to the rule. Noah Callaway is more than just a kind nerd in a jock’s body.
He’s the descendant of Emerald Creek’s founding family, our local equivalent of royalty, but does he let that go to his head? No. No, he does not. He might live in a sixteen-bedroom (give or take a few) historic mansion significant enough to have a name (Lilyvale) and own half of Emerald Creek’s real estate, but he still wakes up at the crack of dawn to open the shop so his employees don’t have to. He still volunteers on our boards so the town is run right. He’s still the high school coding club advisor because—listen to this—he gave up on his dream of studying at M.I.T. so he could take care of his siblings when Mrs. Callaway passed away way too young and their dad went berserk with grief.
He’s perfect, okay?
But I digress. Just because he’s single again doesn’t mean anything.
Because Noah Callaway barely knows I exist, and I’ve decided that my days pining hopelessly for him are over.
O.V.E.R.
So thank god, after all, that I’m the maid of honor because this places me safely with the best man and not with Noah as we follow Ms. Angela’s instructions and prepare for the procession.
The best man—Chris—owns the bakery where I work, which makes him my boss. His very pregnant wife, Alex, is also a bridesmaid. The other couples all run their own places in town, leaving me the only one in the wedding party without my own business or badass job, and that’s totally alright.
Because that’s who I am.
Happiness to me is the smell of apple pie, beeswax, and the pages of a book. Happiness to me is when my friends and family are where they need to be in their life. Happiness is my whole town getting together to celebrate two amazing people.
