“If Landon is on your team, then I’m Team Landon. He makes you happy. I’ll always be grateful to him for that.”
Rose reached for her friend, who had already opened her arms to her at the same time. “You should tell him,” Rose said into her hair.
“Pfhh.”Poppy blew through her teeth. “He’ll hear my speech. I don’t need to go inflating that man’s ego any more than it already is.” And there was the Poppy Rose knew and loved. Her phone chirped with crickets from the other side of the room. “Leave it,” Poppy said, holding her tighter.
“What if it’s Landon?” Rose laughed.
“You’ll see him tomorrow, won’t you?”
“This could be a bona fide wedding emergency.” Rose pulled away and eased her slippery legs over the side of the tub. “What if the flowers are all wilted, or his little cousins are having second thoughts about their flower girl duties?”
“Neither would be your problem,” Poppy said. “That’s the whole point of a wedding planner. And I swear to God, if Elise doesn’t start pulling her weight around here, I will lose it.”
But Rose had already dripped her way to her phone, tucked into the pocket of a white robe slung across the king bed. Her heart dropped when she saw the name flashing across the home screen. Her mother hadn’t been at the rehearsal dinner. She had opted out of so much surrounding the wedding already—dress shopping, registry planning, the bridal shower—that Rose had finally caved and called her, weeks ago, to make sure she’d meant her RSVP. It was early in the day, but she still sounded buzzy. And she’d promised Rose, through several hiccups, that she would be there, for all of it. Said she might even give a toast at the rehearsaldinner if the mood struck her. Rose had hastily added that the speeches were all pre-planned, confirming that her mother’s one and only responsibility was to walk her down the aisle on the day itself. She’d agreed, somewhat gruffly and a little too slowly for Rose’s nerves, but a deal was a deal.
Rose had learned from Landon’s first meeting with her mother that those dear to her would need to be prepared, so she prepared them. She told them her expectations for the day itself were on the floor, that she just wanted her mother to show up and provide some proof to her new family that Rose came fromsomewhere. She implored them to forgive her mother’s coldness and did her best to tell them where it came from. But hope is human, and Rose could not squash hers. Perhaps there was still a chance they could find each other again. Maybe some of the magic of the day would rub off. She had only told Landon that pipe dream, but it didn’t make her mother’s absence any less humiliating. She dragged her thumb across the screen to answer the call.
“Honey,” her mother said, sweet and soft, as though speaking to her from another, simpler time. “Oh, honey.”
Rose held the phone tighter, willing the closeness to bring this version of her mother back to her. “Honey” was an endearment scribbled on countless lunch box notes, whispered in her ear just before sleep, tucked beside the phraseI love you: a word that felt nearly as archaic asapricityfor all its recent use. “Mom?” she asked, her tone calm and questioning, trying not to startle her back into frigidity.
“Rose, honey, I am so sorry.”
The honey was stuck to her fingers, and Rose was inclined to forgive the worst parts of her mother more readily than usual. “It’s okay,” she said. “The rehearsal dinner is just a warm-up. And I know you hate crowds. I’m just glad you’ll be there, tomorrow. Really.”
The line went quiet, until her mother said, “I’m not feeling well.”
Rose’s heart fluttered. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m coming down with something. These last few days have been hell. I’m sorry, Rose, but I won’t be able to make it tomorrow.” She said it like Rose had invited her to a barbecue or a tailgate—a low-stakes event with few consequences for backing out at the last second.
“You won’t be able to make it tomorrow,” Rose repeated, to be sure she had heard. “To my wedding.”
“I know I should have told you sooner, and I really dreaded having to make this phone call, but you don’t want me there. Not this sick. Not like this.”
It hung between them like gauze, her mother daring her to lean in and rip down the curtain. She spared a thought for the sad, scared, lonely woman who lived all the hours of her days in a haze, trying so hard to forget that Rose wasn’t entirely sure what she was still living for. “Idowant you there,” Rose said, finally. “You should be there.”
She breathed into the phone choppily, like she was considering it. She breathed out, like her mind was made up. “Well, I’m sorry, but I have to go—”
“No,” Rose said. Her thoughts should have been spinning in a hundred different directions. She should have been too angry and disappointed to speak, too overwhelmed for coherent sentences. But Rose found that she was perfectly clear. “No, I have something to say to you.” Once she said it out loud, it would be done. She would be rootless and she would be free. “I can’t keep doing this, Mom.” The beginnings of a sob squeaked out, and she clutched at the loose strings on her swimsuit. “I can’t keepclinging to false hope like this. And I can’t just wait around for you to decide to love me again.” She clenched her teeth tight but only held in half the cry. “There has got to be some part of you left that knows what it feels like to meet your soulmate. Maybe that’s the only part left of you. Go ahead and tell that part that your daughter is marrying the love of her life tomorrow. And then don’t bother with anything else after that. Because I’m done.”
“Rose—” But Rose hung up the phone before her mother could finish the sentence.
“Oh, Rose,” Poppy said, her voice so small from the other side of the room. In three heartbeats she was out of the tub and pulling her into a sopping wet hug, holding her tight. She whispered in her ear, “I am so proud of you.”
Rose dropped her head on Poppy’s chest and breathed in and out to see if she might summon the sobs that had threatened. Poppy rocked her, held her, pulled her closer, and no matter how tight she squeezed her, they wouldn’t come. This grief was calcified, like bone where soft tissue used to be. And the same prescient, all-knowing part of Rose that had known her mother wouldn’t be what she needed today, or any other day, knew exactly why. This was an ending she had already grieved, every day her mother could not be the parent that she needed. Her absence had left a scar, but it had also magnified the presence of those people she now cared most about in the world, one of whom was holding her like she might float away if she let go.
Rose did not have everything she wanted.
But she did have everything she needed.
Landon had always had an affinity for the cello. He’d only played for a year or two in high school, but that had been enough that itfactored into his one request for Rose on his wedding day: a cello and violin for the processional. He didn’t care what song, he said; he just wanted the warmth and longing of that cello paired with the vibrato of the violin. Rose hadn’t had any ideas of her own, so it was an easy request to say yes to. In fact, after that conversation, she hadn’t given it a second thought. Until she stood behind two thick barn doors in a white slip dress she’d been partly sewn into, seconds away from walking down the aisle. She’d imagined this moment one hundred times; dreamed of it for months while they’d counted down days. Why were her hands shaking? Why were her palms sweating?
Then Poppy grabbed her arm and laced it through her elbow. “Please don’t faint on me. You know I love to be the understudy who shows up the lead, but hauling your body across this barn was not in the contract.”
It had been Poppy’s idea. Phone still hanging in her hand, Poppy’s arms tight around her, Rose gave voice to the reality that she would be walking the aisle alone, testing it out on her tongue and trying hard not to feel sorry for herself. Poppy stared at her sideways and asked if that was what she wanted or if an unorthodox substitution might do. That was when Rose had finally sobbed.
Music swelled and then stopped behind the barn doors. Poppy turned to Rose and placed one hand on her perfectly blushed cheek. “You ready?” Poppy asked.
