My phone buzzes on the vanity. I can see the screen lighting up with notifications. Callum, probably. Reminding me that I'm supposed to do or say or be.
I ignore it.
"Monday. We were at breakfast. The Bluebird Cafe, remember? Going over the final wedding plans." My voice sounds hollow, like I'm talking through water. "You asked if I was going to Pine Hollow to help Sharon with the expansion of her wedding planing business.”
Mom nods, her eyes never leaving my face.
"I didn't even get a chance to answer. Callum just said, 'Work. She's not going to work. Once I put a ring on her finger.' Like it was already decided. Like I didn't get a say."
I'd laughed it off at the time. Made some joke about him being old-fashioned while I pushed avocado toast around my plate, too nauseous to eat.
Mom's face had gone tight across the table. I saw her fingers tighten around her coffee cup. She'd opened her mouth like she wanted to say something, then closed it again.
But I saw the worry in her eyes. The recognition of something she'd been trying not to see.
"That night I had my first nightmare. I was walking down the aisle wearing cement shoes. I couldn’t move. I just kept sinking."
Mom sits beside me on the settee, and the cushion dips under her weight. She smells like the perfume she's worn my whole life. Gardenias and vanilla. Safe. Familiar.
Everything Callum isn't.
"Tuesday, he told me I needed to tone down my personality at the rehearsal dinner. His boss was there, and apparently I laughed too loud. Talked too much."
The rehearsal had been at some upscale Italian place downtown. Dark wood paneling, low amber lighting, waiters in bow ties who moved like ghosts. Callum's boss had been there with his wife, both of them stiff and formal, the kind of people who measure every word before they speak.
I'd been trying so hard to be charming. To be the kind of woman Callum wanted me to be. Light and bubbly and perfectly appropriate.
In the car afterward, he'd given me that look. The disappointed one he tries to hide but never quite manages.
"You made everything about you tonight. My boss barely got a word in."
I'd apologized. Of course I'd apologized. I always did.
"Wednesday." My throat tightens. "He rewrote my vows."
Mom's jaw clenches, and I see her hands ball into fists on her lap.
"I spent two weeks writing them. Stayed up late, trying to get the words right. Trying to explain how I felt. Or how I thought I felt." I laugh, but it comes out wrong. Brittle. "He read them over breakfast. Said they were too emotional. Too personal. Would embarrass him in front of the guests."
Fifteen minutes later, he'd handed me a revised version. Shorter. Cleaner. Stripped of anything that felt real.
"These are better. Trust me."
And I had trusted him. Because that's what I always did.
"Thursday." My voice drops to barely a whisper. "I heard him on the phone with his mother."
Mom's hand finds mine and squeezes it.
"I was packing for the honeymoon. Some resort in Mexico he picked without asking what I wanted. His voice carried through the bedroom door." I close my eyes, but I can still hear it. That casual, matter-of-fact tone. "They were talking about when we'd start trying for a baby. He said once we're married, it'll be easier to convince me. That there's no point in waiting. That I'll come around. I always do."
Like I was a project. A problem to manage. A box to check on his life plan.
Mom makes a sound in the back of her throat. Anger and grief mixed together.
"Friday, I came here for the final fitting. His mother kept fussing over the dress, saying how perfect everything was. How lucky Callum was to have found such a lovely bride."
I look at my reflection in the massive mirror across the room.
