“I foundmea new place to stay.”
“Is it with Evan?” she asked hopefully.
“No, it isn’t with Evan!” I exploded at her.
“Why did you screw it up?” Tiffanie chastised. “I had it all set up for you.”
“You lied to him and told him I was cheating on him!”
“To help you and to help us!”
“No, to helpyou, becauseyouare not a good mom and have never been a good mom. My entire childhood consisted of you trying to find a man to take care of us instead of you actually trying to better your own situation.”
“I was doing the best I could,” Tiffanie whined.
“And sometimes your best just isn’t good enough,” I told her, “and you have to be better.”
“I’m your mother. I sacrificed everything for you!”
“I never asked you to,” I told her, eyes narrowed. “And as far as I’m concerned, whatever debt there might be has been paid multiple times over.”
“You should have gotten pregnant! Instead, Camilla did, and she’s going to steal Evan from you. If you had listened to me, you’d have Evan in the bag. All I wanted for you was to be better than me,” Tiffanie said, crying loudly.
“And I am,” I said firmly. “I will not screw over a good man because I refuse to take responsibility for my own life.”
“Fine! I’m done helping you!” my mother raged at me as she threw on her clothes. “You need my help to put on this wedding. But you’re not going to get it.” She tore the curlers out of her hair. “I can’t believe I raised such a self-serving, heartless daughter who doesn’t even love or respect her own mother.”
The guilt trip that would usually have me begging for forgiveness and managing her emotions didn’t work this time. All I could think about was how hurt and betrayed Evan must have felt when my mother had lied and told him I was cheating on him.
In the fresh light of morning, I was starting to feel more and more sympathetic toward Evan. After all, I knew how persuasive and manipulative my mother could be. And he’d had a previous bad experience. His reaction was understandable.
Don’t let him off the hook. He should have just talked to you.
My mother flounced out.
“Was she supposed to have hair and makeup?” the stylist asked me, dodging my mother’s suitcase as she hauled her whole mobile workstation behind her.
“Nope. She is no longer involved with this wedding.”
“Thank you,” Mika said, pouring me champagne. “She just fed Imogen’s delusions, to be honest.”
I took the glass from her.
“Can you please remind everyone that we can only have alcohol in these private hotel suites and not in the venue itself?”
She nodded. “I even sent Evan to the groom’s side to make sure he polices them. Can you imagine if we were kicked out of yet another venue?”
We both shuddered.
“So where are the rest of the bridesmaids?” the stylist asked me as she set up.
“There’s just the three of us,” I told her.
She shrugged. “We’ll do the bride last. We could have come later.”
“We were supposed to have more bridesmaids,” Imogen said haughtily.
“Imogen, mind your face,” her mother said, chasing after her. “No strong emotions—you’ll develop wrinkles. Come lie down.”
