“I’m going to be his stepmom. I’m going to help raise him. I love him, but I’m just… I don’t know.” She gnaws on a fingernail.
“Don’t know what?”
“I don’t know if I can be a parent. I skipped over the part when they’re young and you kind of figure it all out and it doesn’t matter if you mess up. He’s eleven—there’s no time for me to figure it out. When I mess it up, he’s going to know and it could be really bad.”
“You’re not going to mess up!” I say, laughing. “Why would you think that?”
She shrugs and pulls in a shaky breath. I soften when I see she’s close to tears.
“Have you spoken to Michael about this?”
“No, I don’t want to freak him out. He has so much going on at the moment with his book pitch. And—” She pauses, fingering the lace on her dress. “There’s something else. I’ve told you about Mel, right?”
I nod.
“I’m worried that I won’t be able to hold my own with her. She causes so much drama and what if she does something to make Henry hate me? Or to break Michael and I up? She’s already insisting on coming to the wedding, which—”
“Wait.” I raise my hands, frowning. “Michael’s ex-wife is coming to your wedding?”
Alex nods.
“But… why? Isn’t that awkward?”
“Yes! That’s what I said! She insists she has to be there for Henry, that it will show him we can all be adults and have a harmonious relationship, blah, blah, blah.” She lifts her gaze to the ceiling. “But I wouldn’t put it past her to pull some stunt on our wedding day.”
My mouth falls open. “Really?”
“She’s bad, Harri. But if I tell her she can’t come, that will piss her off even more and she’ll probably show up and cause drama anyway.”
I exhale slowly, turning this over. Poor Alex. It’s bad enough still having the ex in the picture, but now she’s coming to the wedding? This is supposed to be the day where Alex is blissfully happy, not the day where she has to keep one eye out to make sure her groom’s psycho ex doesn’t burn the place down or poison the guests.
No wonder Alex is feeling overwhelmed about the wedding. I definitely need to relieve some of the pressure for her. After talking with Steph last night, I realized how silly I was being about the Luke situation. It doesn’t matter if I’m feeling awkward—it’s not about me. I owe it to Alex to help with the wedding, and if I can, I should try and manage Mel so Alex can actually enjoy her day.
Except… I’m terrible at confrontation. I hate conflict and avoid it at all costs, while it sounds like Mel is someone who thrives on it. What if I can’t stand up to her?
Then it occurs to me:Imight not be able to stand up to her, but my alter ego could, no problem.
I glance up at Alex again, her face etched with worry. “I’ll take care of Mel,” I hear myself say.
“That’s really sweet, but she’s a nightmare.”
“It’s okay,” I say resolutely, standing. “I’ll handle her. She won’t ruin the day, I promise.” I take a step towards Alex. “And as for everything with Henry, you’re going to be fine. I think you’ll be a great stepmother. You have a good relationship with him and you care. That’s what matters. He’s lucky to have you when he could be stuck with just Mel.” This brings a small smile to Alex’s face. “But you should tell Michael what you’re thinking. He’d want to know, and I’m sure he’ll say the same thing as me.”
She nods and reaches out to pull me into a hug. “Thanks. I feel so much better.”
I squeeze her tight, relieved. Maybe Harriet 2.0 will come in handy after all.
* * *
When we step outsidethe bridal boutique, the sky has darkened into a deep pink, streaked with wisps of cotton candy. I pull my jacket tighter around my shoulders and survey the busy streets of Midtown. This part of the city is what I think of when I picture New York: iconic sky-scrapers, yellow cabs, pavements crowded with people, a cacophony of traffic and honking horns. On our first day out shopping, it felt chaotic and claustrophobic, and I spent the whole day in a knot of anxiety.
But I’m coming to see there’s a way to handle this place. Having Alex with me is good, and it also helps if I research where we are going in advance. Then when we’re out, I can focus on breathing and staying present in my body, and I don’t get quite so overwhelmed.
The West Village, where Alex lives, is so different to Midtown. It really does feel like its own village, with smaller townhouse-style apartments in rows, boutique shops, and single-lane streets lined with trees. I didn’t know New York had such quiet neighborhoods, but I like it there.
Alex turns to me as we head down Seventh Avenue. “I forgot to ask, how are you feeling today?”
“What?”
