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My mom clears her throat. “Six weeks ‘till the wedding. Exciting, right?”
I nod and take a sip of my water to avoid talking.
Mom tries to engage me again. “I can’t imagine planning a wedding in such a short period of time. Are you prepared?”
“It’s all good,” I state, but once again, Maceo goes over my head.
“Josephine has tackled everything like a boss. She’s ridiculously organized and has this whole binder with a spreadsheet she put together for everything we have done for the wedding. But we still have a list of things we need to complete, and Josephine has her hands full with construction projects,” he says.
My mom catches on to Maceo’s hint. “You still have things to check off your list?”
I shake my head ‘no,’ but Maceo bobs his head ‘yes.’
“We have all these little things to finish,” Maceo continues.
“Do you need any help?” Mom’s enthusiasm is over the top.
Again, I shake my head. “Nope. We got it covered.”
“Oh, but baby, you told me you needed my help with picking bible verses and such for the ceremony,” Maceo reminds me. “And the song we dance to during the reception.”
I shoot him a warning glare—the kind of look which screams ‘don’t make me throat punch you.’ I know what he’s doing. He’s trying to wrangle my mom into helping me with the wedding duties, allowing him to bail.
Well, tough shit.
“Those are intimate things only the couple should pick outtogether,” I say firmly. He cannot force me into having a relationship with my parents, nor should he try—it’s still raw.
Maceo nods his head but continues to push his luck. “It will be fun to have your mom help with some of the details, like the color napkins, table settings, and centerpieces.”
“Opal is helping me,” I lie. I wish Opal could help me, but she’s busy studying for her final exams to get her GED. I would never impose on her now.
Maceo raises his eyebrow at me, knowing I’m lying. “Opal has more important things to worry about with school,” he says sternly, his eyes darkening.
If he believes he can bully me into working with my mother, he’s out of his damn mind. Even if my mom and I were on good terms, I would not ask for her help—we don’t agree on anything.
“I can help. I’d love to help, actually,” my mom says, hopeful.
There are a million nasty comments on the tip of my tongue, but my mom is not the person I’m upset with at the moment.
“Thank you for offering, but the person I want involved is my fiancé. But apparently, he wants nothing to do with the planning.”
Maceo shakes his head and squeezes my hand. “Not true.”
“How is it not? I’ve been running the whole show. You’re the one who asked today what you could do to help me, and I told you what I needed. But you must not have meant it since you’re so eager to give your responsibilities to anyone else,” I say flippantly.
“I’m not suggesting just anyone help us. I’m suggesting your mom.”
“Stop pawning me off on my mother,” I snap, yanking my hand away.
“This is my wedding too, and I want your mom involved,” Maceo says in a slightly louder voice. It wasn’t an order exactly, but it sure fucking felt like one.
Oh, no he didn’t!
My head turns slowly to give him my death glare. He has gone too far.
Realizing his mistake, Maceo sits back in his seat and raises his hands slowly, as if to say, ‘calm down.’
There’s no flipping the switch back to casual.
