But was it really still like that? No expectations of the man who’d set this entire thing in motion? Surely things had moved on a bit.
But she knew in her heart that if she asked Adam whether anyone had grilled him about chairs or napkins or cake tiers, he’d look at her blankly.
Kelly studied Maddy for a moment. ‘It’s a lot, I know. But this is supposed to be happy. This is your dream.’
Was it? Had she said that once? Had shefeltit once? Again, she didn’t think so.
But it was best not to shine a light on her mother’s casual relationship with reality. It got you nowhere.
‘Iamhappy,’ Maddy said, because that was the easy thing to say.
Her mother nodded and jumped back into logistics. ‘I was thinking ballgown for the dress. Classic. You don’t want anything too modern, or you’ll look back and feel dated.’
Maddy’s chest felt tight. Could you have a heart attack at thirty-three? It would be a great way to end this conversation. You couldn’t argue with a cardiac event. I’m sorry, Mother, but I simply can’t talk about dresses as I’m actively dying.
But her heart went right on pumping healthily, the shit.
Maddy tried to picture it. The dress. The venue. Herself walking down an aisle toward Adam, smiling while people watched. She tried to feel what she was supposed to feel.
Nothing came.
‘Maddy?’
Maddy looked up. ‘What?’
‘You haven’t said anything.’
‘I’m just listening,’ Maddy said. She tried to smile like a person who gave a shit about poofy dresses.
Kelly sighed. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Yes,’ Maddy said quickly.
‘Areyou?’ Her mother asked, puzzled.
‘I’m trying,’ she said, and then the tears came. They surprised her with their speed. One moment she was holding ittogether, the next she was wet-eyed. She pressed a hand to her mouth, mortified.
‘Oh,’ her mother said, immediately standing and moving around the table. ‘Oh, love!’
She wrapped her arms around Maddy. Maddy stiffened, then sagged into it, the effort of holding herself upright suddenly too much.
‘I don’t know why I’m like this,’ Maddy said into her mother’s sweater.
Kelly rubbed her back. ‘You’re overwhelmed.’
Maddy nodded because that explanation was easier to accept than the alternative. She was scared. She’d always known that one day this would happen. You stayed with someone; eventually, they were going to propose. So why had it shocked her so much? Why did it feel so terrifying?
‘Wedding planning does this to people,’ her mother continued soothingly. ‘I know it’s nice to get married, but it can be a lot for someone like you. I remember your sixteenth birthday at the ice rink. It was exactly what you asked for, and you still burst into tears when everyone started singing happy birthday.’
That was true. She’d wanted a big bash because that meant she was popular and functional. Yet come the night, it was all too much. So embarrassing watching thirty people fade out on the third line of ‘Happy Birthday to You.’
She simply wasn’t good at being the centre of attention. And now it was coming for her at a hundred miles an hour.
‘I thought I’d be better at this,’ Maddy said.
‘Excitement looks different for everyone,’ Kelly said briskly. ‘Some people get giddy. Some people get anxious. It’s all normal.’
Maddy pulled back, wiping at her face. ‘It is?’
