The funeral is next Tuesday.
Ollie and Mia are still going ahead with the baby shower at the lakehouse. Lydia insisted. Said it felt right to gather people together instead of cancelling everything.
I tell Mom I'll think about coming. That work is chaotic. That filming starts in four weeks.
Just before we hang up, she says, carefully, "Oh—and I hear congratulations are in order?"
Shit.
"I was going to call you," I say, the words hollow even to my own ears. "I just… things got complicated."
"Life happens, right?" she says, and there's a fracture in her voice this time. A tiny crack that lets me hear what she's not saying—that I hurt her. That finding out through headlines instead of a phone call left a mark.
I don't respond.
"Nora, are you doing okay?" she asks, and the shift in her voice is immediate—from hurt to concern, the way only a mother can pivot. Too quickly, trying to take care of me even when I'm the one who hurt her.
I want to say yes. I want to tell her I'm fine, that everything is perfect, that the ring fits and the life fits and I fit inside it all without questioning.
But I'm so tired of lying.
"I don't know," I admit quietly. "I don't think I am."
There's a long pause. She's choosing her words carefully.
"Then come home," she says simply. "Figure it out here. With people who love you no matter what you decide."
"I'm not sure I can do that right now, Mom."
"Start with getting on a plane," she says, and there's the faintest hint of a smile in her voice. "The rest, we'll figure out together."
“I’ll think about it,” I whisper.
"Love you, honey."
"Love you too, Mom."
When I rejoin the group, the venue feels different. It’s closing in on me.
Wes turns to me, smiling.
"What do you think?"
I look at him, really look. At the certainty in his posture. At how he fills space without apology. At how this entire thing is already decided in his mind.
"Can I talk to you privately?" I ask.
He checks his watch. "We've got fifteen minutes left. Can it wait?"
My head spins.
"I don't think so."
He sighs. "We'll talk in the car, okay?"
"I think we're moving too fast with this." I don't lower my voice. I don't soften myself.
The venue manager freezes. The wedding planner's smile falters. The florist looks down at her tablet suddenly very interested in hydrangeas.
