It might have seemed casual, even passive-aggressive, to an observer, but Cheryl could hear how hard her Mum was trying not to cry. So she clasped her tulle and satin and did a little twirl. “Thanks. Vera Wang.”
Her mother’s veil twitched. “You’re the light of my life. My reason for being born.”
Cheryl felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. “Mum…”
“No,” Sharon said in a hard voice. “I’m dying, so I get to say what I like. It was all worth it. All of it. Seeing you here today, knowing you’re marrying someone who deserves you. I feel like I’ve done my duty by you, CeeCee. I know that whatever happens, you’ll be loved.”
Cheryl felt fresh tears prickling, threatening her bridal make-up. “It would never have been enough. A hundred years isn’t long enough to love you.”
“Jesus,” Eden croaked. “Shut the fuck up, you two.”
Cheryl laughed, and so did her mum as the priest’s assistant appeared, flustered and fanning himself with a pamphlet. “Ladies, are we ready to start?”
“Yes,” Eden said, dabbing her eyes. “We’re ready.”
Cheryl and her mum waited together. The XX’s ‘Angels’ began to play, and Cheryl heard everyone in the church get to their feet. It was a song she and Patrick had loved for as long as they’d known each other and had both unknowingly played at night when they were lovesick and longing to be close.
Eden directed the kids into the church, swiping at her cheeks as she went.
“Goddammit, Bernie,” she said as Jupiter scampered down the aisle, tossing petals. “There’s not gonna be a dry eye in the house today.”
“Good,” her mum said firmly. “Let them weep.”
Cackling, Eden took her position and began step-walking down the aisle.
Cheryl watched her go, her heart so tight it felt like it would burst. It wasn’t just her Mum that she needed a hundred years to love; it was all of them. Patrick, Eden, Willow, Jupiter,everyone. She wanted infinite Christmases and Sunday brunches and panicked phone calls and midnight glasses of wine. Sheneededthem. Why didn’t she get to keep her mother? Her friends? Why couldn’t she have her hundred years? Why were the curtains being drawn even as she and her mum waited together?
“You nervous, CeeCee?” her mother whispered.
“Yeah,” Cheryl said. Eden was almost at the altar, and her time was coming. The reality of it almost too much to take.
“Well, then,” her mum said. “I’d better do you a favour…”
Sharon Walker pulled her veiled hat from her head and tossed it clumsily onto the floor of the church steps.
“That’s good,” she said. “Much better airflow.”
Cheryl stared at her mother’s face, and something close to ecstasy coursed through her veins. She wanted to grab the moment and break it to stop it from finishing.
“Mum,” she whispered. “I can’t….”
Her mother gave her a fierce look, and it seemed to Cheryl that she was every inch the woman she’d been twenty years ago—tall, beautiful, and fearless.
“Look at Patrick,” her mum whispered. “He’s waiting for you.”
Almost against her will, Cheryl obeyed, looking down the aisle to where Patrick waited, breathtaking in his suit, his handsome face shining like the sun.
“Oh God…” she said. “God…”
“Not God,” her mum said firmly. “Us.Let’s go, my sweet love. It’s time.”
“But—”
“Shhh. You’ll ruin your make-up.”
“But—”
“You’ll ruin your make-upandmake me cry in front of all these rich assholes. Is that what you want?”
