Page 262 of Wait for Him

I’m getting married.

My son just walked up wearing my dead father’s tie with my dead mother’s fucking brooch pinned to it.

There was never a chance in hell this face was surviving intact.

James wraps his arms around me as much as my stomach allows, and I hold him tighter.

“I wish I could’ve met them,” he whispers.

Well, fuck me.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

There are so many things I wish my parents were here for today. I’ve thought about what Mom would’ve said when she saw the dress, whether Dad would’ve cried when he saw me, whether he would’ve pretended he wasn’t crying while visibly crying. I’ve wondered what it would’ve felt like to have him standing where Samson is now, waiting to walk me down the aisle. But James saying that hits somewhere completely different.

“I love you so much,” I tell him when I finally pull back.

“I love you too.” He smiles and reaches up to wipe beneath one of my eyes with his thumb. “You look so beautiful, Ma.”

“I look like a fucking mess.”

“You do not.”

“James, I’ve cried off half my face.”

He laughs. “You still look beautiful.”

“Good answer.”

I reach for the tie again and straighten it even though it does not need straightening. My fingers linger over Mom’s elephant before I smooth the fabric down against his shirt. They would’ve loved him. Dad would’ve talked his ear off about engineering even though he knew absolutely nothing about it. Mom would’ve fed him until he begged for mercy. Both of them would’ve been disgustingly proud of how smart he is, how funny he is, how good he is, and I’m disgustingly proud enough for all three of us.

The music changes on the other side of the doors, and my stomach immediately flips.

Samson puts a hand gently against my back. “That’s us.”

I take a deep breath and make one final attempt at dabbing beneath my eyes before abandoning the entire enterprise. “Okay.”

Samson offers me his arm again, and I take it. James moves to my other side and reaches for my hand, and when our fingers close around each other, I look between the two men standing with me. One who kept my son safe when I couldn’t, and one who is my son.

Well, fuck. Here come the tears again.

James smiles. “Ma.”

“I know, I know. I’m fine.” I sniff and square my shoulders. “Nobody say anything else meaningful until after the ceremony. I have reached maximum emotional capacity. Compliments are suspended. Memories are suspended. Nobody mention my parents, my baby, my dress, love, family, personal growth or anything else capable of producing moisture.”

Samson laughs.

“I’m serious. I have no more face left to cry off.”

James squeezes my hand. “You ready?”

I look toward the doors, knowing Jackson is on the other side.

And yeah.

Now I am.

“Let’s go get me married.”