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I cringed, not a huge fan of talking about weight and even less so with all of the clear tension between them. The awkwardness hung on the air, thick enough that I could cut it with a knife. An inflammatory topic like weight would just make things worse.
I had no intention of commenting about any highly unlikely weight loss or the impact of my love handles on my wedding pictures.
Unluckily for us all, Mom picked up my slack.
"So you're implying that the only way my daughter will have lovely pictures is if she's thin?"
Alicia's smile dimmed. "I said no such thing. I said thin means beautiful pictures."
"Which means not thin equals not beautiful?" Mom growled.
Oh geez. "Mom--"
"Oh it's alright, Leila," she said, patting my hand. "I just wanted to know how thin Mrs. Whitmore suggests you should be in order to have beautiful pictures. For my reference."
Alicia took a long sip of her wine, pressing her scarlet lips into a line before she pushed her hair from her eyes."So things are really moving as far as the planning goes." She pulled out her iPad. "I have some floral arrangements I'd like you to choose from and there's also the matter of music. Yo-Yo Ma is always a classic choice--"
I coughed. "Yo-Yo Ma is a 'classic choice'?" He was freaking Yo-Yo Ma, one of the greatest cellists of our time. How was he even a choice at all? He played for presidents, international dignitaries--and Alicia was talking like hiring him for my wedding was a piece of cake.
I am officially in the Twilight Zone.
Alicia tilted her head to one side, holding her hands up as she backpedaled. "If he seems too formal, we can go in a different direction.” She stroked her chin thoughtfully, completely missing both me and Mom’s slack-jawed reaction. “There’s also a more popular music option as well. If you'd like me to use my contacts to get someone a little more top 40's--"
"I think Yo-Yo Ma or freaking Katy Perry would be too much." Mom snapped. “They’re both talented and the idea that they’re even on the table is...just...”
Alicia took the interruption in stride, lowering her voice to a confidential level. "Cheryl, if this is a matter of money, naturally, the Whitmore's take care of their own. Leila is like a daughter to me. Of course I will take care of the bill and you won’t have to worry about a single cent."
It might've been sweet if she hadn't all but drawn a line with her eyes and put my mother on the other side.
I had a feeling Mom was approaching boiling point and before Alicia started talking about hiring Beyonce or some famous tenor, it was time to put my foot down. As awesome as any of the above would be, it wasn't what I wanted. It was my wedding. It was high time I put an end to this whole charade. Some guy plucking out a song on a ukulele might not be as buzzworthy as a pop star bringing down the house at our reception, but it was what I wanted. It was the wedding story I wanted to tell my grand kids someday.
I looked at Mom first, then Alicia. "About the wedding--"
"There will be no wedding." Mom’s voice was filled with a finality and authority that would make even Jacob sit up and take notice.
Once I got over the shock, anger quickly filled in the blanks. What was this? Her last ditch effort to ruin everything? Hurt seeped in like a toxin. After our talk, I thought we were headed somewhere good.
What did she meant there would be no wedding? This was what she wanted, me to marry some rich guy and live the lavish life she didn't.
I gave her a look that was ours alone. It was the same look I'd given her every time she'd played matchmaker, or personal stylist, or my personal publicist when she'd put together a press conference in front of the house.
"How dare you--" I began.
"Trust me, Lay," she murmured. Her hand covered mine and then she gave it a quick squeeze. "I'll take care of this."
She released my hand and went full on Mama Bear, all but growling at Alicia. "My daughter has no interest in your multimillion dollar affair.”
Alicia frowned, clutching the stem of her wine glass. “What on earth are you talking about? Of course she wants the wedding! She’s been right beside me through the entire planning process.”
“Right,” Mom said brusquely. “And have you ever thought of asking her what she wants? What would make her happy?"
I sat in stunned, frustrated silence. It was finally out there. But I wanted to say it. It was my truth to tell.
Alicia was looking back and forth between the two of us. Confused, probably wondering what kind of girl turned down an all expenses paid fairytale wedding.
I pressed my eyes closed, counting to five. Breathe in. Breathe out. I opened them and they were both looking at me, waiting for my response.
I tried to keep my voice low and level. "Let me explain, Mom." At least let me do that much.
