But Grant’s voice stays steady. “You want to know why Hudson punched me?”
I stare at him with wide, unbelieving eyes, but he shakes his head. “Because he caught me fucking Katherine.”
George puffs out his chest in horror, his skin turning red, and my mother clutches her chest, her glare traveling from Grant, to Meredith, to me, as if she suspects I might punch him again.
“What are you saying?” George asks, frazzled.
“We’re in an open relationship,” Meredith explains. “Which is frankly none of your business but here we are.”
From the lack of surprise on Vivianne’s face, I’m certain Meredith has explained her relationship status to her aunt. And, honestly, I’d expect nothing less. They are a family who actually communicates and trusts each other.
“Hudson? You’re not a part of this lifestyle, are you?” My mother’s eyes turn to me, disgusted, and I know what she’s asking. If we are all baring our truths I might as well add mine to the pile.
“Katherine and I broke up months ago,” I admit, waiting for her judgment. “And since we’re all being honest, I’m with Mira now.”
“Who the hell is Mira?” my mother asks, stunned.
“I’m Mira,” Mira says, coming to stand beside me.
Grant and Meredith beam at us as we create a wall between Susan and her judgment.
“I hate to break up the fun,” Amelia says, coming over, having absolutely no context to the bombs we’ve just dropped on our parents, “but it’s time to start the ceremony.”
“Perfect,” Grant says, readjusting his suit jacket, “we’re done here anyways.”
Mira follows Grant towards the ceremony, and Amelia leads Meredith and Vivianne to their starting line. I’m about to move off and find my seat when my mother pulls me back. “Why didn’t you tell me you and Katherine broke up?”
There’s hurt on her face, an emotion I didn’t believe was possible thanks to the Botox and her general heartlessness.
“Considering you already made a wedding binder for us, I wasn’t sure how you would take the news.”
“What did you think was going to happen? That I’d force you into a betrothal?”
I raise an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”
“Hudson,” my mother replies sheepishly. “I know we don’t always see eye to eye, but you don’t have to hide parts of your life from me.”
“Really? Because if I told you that I left Katherine and started dating a photographer that I met at a bar where I work in the evenings, you would have said ... what exactly?”
“I don’t know. But I at least would have gotten to know the girl.”
“Okay, sure,” I scoff.
“I’m not heartless. I know I have impossible standards and I’m not easy to please but I’m human too. I understand that relationships don’t always work out. I mean, look at me and your father.”
There’s a rare tenderness in her voice that I haven’t heard since I was a child. I think back to those days before the divorce. All the days my father would work in the garage. How they would fight inthe kitchen when they thought I was asleep. How miserable they both were. And how happy my mother was when she left.
“I want what’s best for you, always. And we might not agree on what that is but I’m not going to dictate who you can love.”
I cross my arms, unbelieving.
“I know you might not believe me, but I do love you.”
I try to remember the last time my mother uttered those words to me. My tenth birthday, maybe.
“Do you?”
“What kind of question is that to ask your mother?” she asks, taken aback.
