Page 173 of Trailer Trash

“Three weeks.”

Everyone nods, clearly unimpressed — except for Mom.

“I’m glad, honey. You look good.”

“Thanks.” I grab Harlow’s hand. “I have other news. Harlow and I are getting married.”

A collective gasp is sharp and sudden.

Everyone stares. I scrunch my brow.

“I’m gonna stay sober,” I assure them.

“Congratulations,” murmurs Jagger, forcing a smile.

“Why is everyone acting like this?”

“We are just surprised, honey.” Mom’s face is a sheet of white. “I wish you would’ve told us.”

“I am telling you.”

“Before,” she says softly.

“It’s a big decision,” says Dad.

“I know.”

River sets down his wine and shakes his head.

“Please, Dad. This is what you wanted. The golden boy will get married.” He mutters bitterly, “God knows you don’t want to help with my wedding.”

Golden boy?

I prefer favorite.

But River’s comment reminds me of the other thing. I need those trust payments restarted, or Harlow won’t quit her job.

“It is best if you are sober longer, Kill,” says Dad, ignoring River.

“Why?”

He ignores me as well and looks at Harlow. “Don’t you think it best Killian not rush into life-changing decisions when he has only been sober for three weeks?”

“Well, uh, we’ve known each other a lot longer. I’m good for Killian. You said that yourself.”

“As his sober aide.”

“Yes, but as his wife, I’ll be there more. That will help him.”

“It always does,” I say.

“Codependency,” grumbles Dad.

“Clark,” whispers Mom, “take it easy. This is a celebration.”

Her smile doesn’t match her eyes. I guess we’re pretending again.

“I assume there will be a prenup,” says River.