He waited.
“I can do it,” I said finally.
“I think you can,” he said. “But you’ve never had to before.”
He put a hand on my shoulder, squeezed once. “Just don’t sit through this. Don’t let her do everything.”
I nodded. “I won’t.”
He studied my face like he was trying to decide whether to believe me. Then he smiled, softer this time. “You’re going to be fine.”
I smiled back. I was good at that part too.
The party blurred after that. Laughter, noise, another drink pressed into my hand. I didn’t remember much. I just remembered the quiet when I finally shut my front door.
The house felt too big without everyone in it.
I checked the clock. Late afternoon. I was supposed to meet Claire for cake tasting today. I’d told her today I wasn’t feeling well. She’d believed me.
My phone buzzed. A text from her.
You, okay?
I stared at it longer than necessary before typing back.
Yeah. Just tired.
The lie slid out easy.
She came by later. I heard her before I saw her, soft steps, the sound of her setting her bag down like she was being careful not to wake me up. She smiled when she saw me, but there was a crease between her brows.
“You sure you’re okay?” she asked.
“Yeah.” I pulled her into me before she could say anything else. Her hair smelled like soap and sunshine. I pressed a kiss to her temple, then her mouth, slow and familiar. She relaxed into it, melted a little.
I felt the guilt like a stone in my chest.
She pulled back first. “I was thinking,” she said, already distracted, already planning. “I might skip the florist. Make my own bouquet. Save some money.”
She said it lightly, but I knew what it cost her to say it at all.
I took her hand. “Whatever you choose will be beautiful.”
She smiled, small. “You don’t have to say that.”
“I do,” I said. “Especially since you chose me.”
She laughed, rolled her eyes, kissed my cheek. “I’ll see you later.”
After she left, the house went quiet again.
I poured myself another drink.
Then another.
I sat back down, staring at the floor. Marriage pressed in on me from every direction. Responsibility. Being needed. Being relied on.
I loved her. That part was true.
