“Well, let us know if there’s anything we can do to help,” Mom says, bringing me back to the present conversation.
“We have an event planner who’s doing most of the heavy lifting, so I’m sure we’ll be fine. But if I think of anything, I’ll be sure to let you know.” I say the last sentence over my mom’s burgeoning protest that they like feeling useful. It’s the same one I’ve heard hundreds of times. She’s always tidying and dusting when they come to visit, even though I’ve told her every time that I have someone to do all that for me. She insists that she just wants to feel useful. So I’ve stopped fighting it. Whichmeans I’ll need to warn Hailey that we’ll need to give my parents something to be in charge of. It’ll make the event more pleasant for everyone.
“I’m looking forward to seeing you when you get here. I know you and Dad normally stay in the guest room?—”
“We’ve already booked a hotel,” Mom cuts in. “We know you two are still in the honeymoon phase—especially since you didn’t even take that poor girl on a real honeymoon. We don’t want to intrude. We just want to be there to help you celebrate.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I say, breathing a little easier. “I really appreciate that.”
“Plus, then it’ll be easier to not have to explain to your in-laws why you’re hosting us and not them. You can host them, or you can explain that your home is your sanctuary and everyone’s getting a hotel room.”
“Wow. You’ve given this a lot of thought.”
“Well, of course I have!” Mom protests. “I don’t want to put you in a bad position, especially since you swooped in out of the clear blue sky and married their daughter without so much as an invitation to either of your parents.”
“Heh. Yeah. Good point.” Speaking of inviting Hailey’s parents … I’m not sure if she has or not. The last time I brought it up, she didn’t give me a straight answer. But I want to know if they’re coming or not. Or if they even know that we’re married. Surely she’s at least told them that, though …
Mom and I chat for a few more minutes—she updates me on life in Madison, and I fill her in on how things are going here with Hailey—and then I hang up and go find my wife. I grin at that thought.
My wife …
She’s in her room, concentrating on her laptop, earphones on, her brows pulled together in a frown. The door’s crackedopen, so I think it’s okay for me to interrupt, but I knock on the doorjamb to get her attention.
She startles a little, hitting a key before looking up. Her face clears when she sees it’s me—though who else it would be, I’m not sure—and she smiles. “Hey! Off the phone?”
“Yeah. Mom said to tell you hi.”
“Aww. Hi back to your mom.”
“Speaking of moms …” I start, and her smile immediately dies, replaced by a wary look. I hold up my hands like I’m showing I’m unarmed. “I know it’s a touchy subject, but the reception is in less than two weeks, and I still don’t know if your parents are coming or not.”
She sighs. Looks away. “I haven’t told them,” she mumbles.
“You haven’t told them about the reception? Or you haven’t told them we’re married at all?” At least now I’ll get confirmation about that one.
When she shakes her head, I take that as meaning she hasn’t told them anything. She glances at me and sighs again, though this one sounds much more aggravated. “Look, my parents aren’t like your parents, okay? You know that.”
“I do,” I say slowly. “And if you don’t want to invite them, I completely understand and support you a hundred percent. I just …” I shake my head. “If you haven’t even told them we’re married …”
“What?” she asks, her tone demanding. “If I haven’t told them we’re married, then what?”
I turn my hands palms up and shrug. “I don’t understand what you’re waiting for. Unless … are you just wanting to cut them off entirely?”
She throws her hands up in the air. “I don’t know, Jason. I don’t even know whattotell them. What Ishouldtell them. I know you’re okay with letting everyone think this is for real, but I don’t like lying to my parents.”
My head jerks back, her words hitting me like an elbow to the face. “Oh. Uh, okay. I—I see.”
Her face crumples. “No, Jason, come on. You know—I mean, I know we’re doing … this.” She gestures between us. “What we’ve been doing. But also, has anything really changed? You said yourself this was more of a business agreement than anything. You’re helping me out. And my parents …”
Nothing she’s saying makes me feel better, but I swallow the hurt, trying to keep my face and tone bland. “What about your parents?”
“They wouldn’t understand,” she says quietly.
“I see.”
“Do you?”
That gives me pause, and I take a few deep breaths before shaking my head. “Actually, no. I don’t think I do. I have to admit that I’m not really sureIunderstand what we’re doing here either.” I swallow hard. “I thought … well, I guess I thought we were on the same page. But apparently …”
