Maddy let out a small sound that might have been a laugh. Embarrassment burned hot under her skin. But it was nothing next to the white-hot shame of being undermined in front of Eva. If Eva didn’t know what a wet wipe she was before, she certainly did now.
Her mother set her glass down more firmly than necessary. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘If it’s what you both want.’
Maddy nodded. ‘Yes. It’s fine. It’s probably for the best.’
The conversation moved on. Her mother flipped through the magazines, pointing out centrepieces and dress styles. Adam joined in enthusiastically, making jokes about cake towers and string quartets.
Maddy sat between them, nodding and laughing at appropriate intervals. Now and then, her phone buzzed with messages from friends letting her know that the save-the-date was in their hands.
At each buzz, Adam kissed Maddy’s temple as if to reassure her, as if nothing at all had been taken from her.
God, Maddy hoped she wouldn’t have to send out a second batch. Because she’d done what was asked. Hard as it was, she’d made a choice. She’d been proud of that.
But pride was now revoked.
Later, when everyone had gone to bed, Maddy stood alone in the kitchen. The box from the save-the-dates sat open on the counter, only a few cards remaining. She picked one up and traced her name with her finger. Maddy Kind.
The words felt both familiar and distant.
On the table lay the brochure from the greenhouse, its corners already soft from being handled. She popped it into the recycling and tried not to feel anything about the act.
Her phone buzzed again, a new email from Eva. She had another day set aside if they wanted to go on another venue hunt. She didn’t say anything about them cancelling the hold.
Maddy felt anger return. Adam had told her that he trusted her. He’d told her to pick. And she hadn’t even wanted to. But shehad. And then, at the first raised eyebrow from his big-shot father, he had quietly taken a shit on Maddy’s choice.
She placed the last save-the-date back in the box and turned off the kitchen light.
Upstairs, Adam slept peacefully, one arm flung across her side of the bed. She slipped in beside him, careful not to wake him, and stared at the ceiling for a long time. She began theprocess of pushing down the anger. It didn’t take long. She was very good at it.
Twelve
Eva had learned over the years that there were two kinds of wedding venues: the ones people chose because they loved them, and the ones people chose because they sounded right when said to other people.
Hawthorne Manor was the second kind.
Eva regarded the place from the car park as she got out of her car. Symmetrical stone façade, long gravel drive, clipped yew hedges standing to attention. The sky was a pale, obedient blue. Even the sheep in the distance looked flawless.
But Eva found it somehow soulless.
Adam pulled up behind her, Maddy in the passenger seat. Adam let out a low whistle as he got out of the car. ‘Now this,’ he said, ‘this is a wedding venue.’
Eva smiled neutrally. She had no right to resent his enthusiasm. He was the groom. He was supposed to have opinions. He was supposed to be here.
Maddy got out and smiled brightly. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said. Eva could have sworn she detected a question mark at the end of the sentence.
‘It’s available for your date, but it’s three times more expensive than the greenhouse,’ Eva noted.
‘But you can see why,’ Adam grinned, unworried.
They stepped out onto the crunching gravel. A man in a navy blazer with a waxed moustache was already descending the front steps toward them, hand extended, voice carrying.
‘Welcome to Hawthorne Manor! You must be Maddy and Adam. And you’re Eva?’
Eva shook his hand. ‘That’s me.’
‘I’m Ralph. Welcome to Hawthorne Manor.’
The tour began with the Great Hall. Vaulted ceiling, ancestral portraits, a fireplace large enough to roast something medieval. Adam turned in a slow circle, grinning.
