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Mandi’s mom, Hank, and all her sisters run after her.
I stand at the end of the aisle, unsure what to tell everyone who’s left, so I opt for the simple truth. “There’s no wedding. Thank you all for coming.”
I step away from the arbor and rush down the aisle, my heart feeling as if it’s been carved out of my chest.
“Noah!” My mom follows me into the parking lot. “Noah!”
I have nowhere to go at this point. Mandi couldn’t be more right. She does deserve better, and I already knew that when she agreed to be my fake fiancée.
“What’s going on? What did she mean? You don’t love her?” Grandma is right behind my mom, and my dad trails behind them.
Seeing them all together—the cause for all this, besides my own stupidity—is like a hot coal burning in my chest where my heart used to be.
I run a hand through my hair and pull on the back of my neck. “It was all fake.”
“What was?” Mom says in a gentle tone, obviously seeing my emotions but not understanding.
“The engagement, the wedding. I’m so sick of being in the middle of you guys!” I throw up my arms and look between my dad and grandma. “Being torn apart like two kids tugging on a stuffed animal.”
“It’s not real?” Grandma’s hand is on her chest, and I have a brief worry that maybe this won’t be good for her heart, something I hadn’t considered until now.
“When I told you I was engaged at the hospital, Mandi didn’t know anything about it. I lied to you all with the hopes it would get the two of you to mend your differences. Then I made a deal with Mandi that if she married me, I’d help her out with the inn. She agreed.” God, it all sounds so moronic when I say it out loud.
“I don’t believe it. I just can’t believe it. You two are just so…” My mom shakes her head. “I see it between you two, Noah. There’s love there.”
My chest tightens. “A love that can never grow. We live two very different lives. Her life is here, and mine is out there.” I gesture toward the mountains in the distance.
“You did all this so I would talk to your grandma again?” My dad looks at Grandma, his eyes narrowed. “Look what you’ve done! You’ve pulled this poor Greene family into our drama.”
Grandma holds up her hands. “This isn’t my fault, this is yours.”
“Mine?” my dad shouts.
“We should take this somewhere else,” my mom says to my dad, glancing around the parking lot.
“How could you selling my father’s company, our family company, out from under me be my fault? You left me and my family desolate. How could that be my fault?”
“Because I had other plans,” Grandma says with heat in her voice.
“Plans that left my family without the security of my job. I had to go searching and couldn’t pay for Noah’s college. And—”
“And you found happiness in the end, didn’t you? You didn’t want to work for that company for the rest of your life. We both know it. You were going to do so because you’d heard your father talk about how important it was to pass down the family business, so you felt you had to. And if you took it over, so would have Noah. I watched your father turn into a shell of who he was while we were married, and it was all because of that company. I wasn’t going to allow it to happen to either of you. I begged him to sell well before you’d ever taken over, Rex. But he wouldn’t do it, so I did it when he died, and I regret nothing.”
My dad looks at my mom and shakes his head as though he doesn’t understand.
“Then why not just share the money with us? At least enough to get by. Mom, you left us with nothing.” I hear the pain in Dad’s voice.
Grandma’s face softens a bit. “Not my finest moment, I’ll agree. I shouldn’t have taken everything, but I didn’t want to give you a portion of the profit because you would’ve settled. There’s this picture that you painted for me your junior year in art class.” She smiles. “It’s a beautiful landscape. You’d gone out to that mountain range every weekend for a month to make sure you had it correct. Such devotion to the art. It hangs in my bedroom now to remind me that although you hate me, at least you’re happy. That’s all a mother really wants for her child. You never would’ve pursued art if I hadn’t sold that company.”
My dad remains quiet.
She looks at me. “And you, you’d never be a photographer because you would’ve been miserable and preparing to take over for your dad someday. Why do you think your grandfather turned into a drunk? He hated that company.” She shakes her head and looks down as if she’s remembering something particular.
“Midge, why didn’t you just tell us?” Mom asks.
“Because it wouldn’t have happened otherwise. I saw no other way. If I’d promised you the money, you’d just be waiting around for me to hand it over. This way, you had to find a way to make what you loved work.”
“And you let yourself be collateral damage?” Mom gives her a hug, puts her arm around Grandma’s shoulders, and turns to my dad. “She’s right. That business was sucking the life out of you. I’d see the stress when you’d come home late at night, and it was clear how much you didn’t want to go to work each morning. You’re so much happier painting.”
