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He sighed loudly, pouting with a flair that made me laugh. “They don’treallyneed us to be there, do they?” he asked. “It’s not like it’s a party for us anyway.”
“We’re the guests of honor; of course, we have to be there.” I shook my head at his ridiculousness.
“Guests of honor, sure,” he grumbled, tucking me into his chest. “Let’s be honest, these wedding things are not for the married-couple-to-be. They’re for everyone else to eat and drink on someone else’s dime. I bet if we didn’t show up, only like three people would notice.”
I raised an eyebrow, highly skeptical of his declaration. “You really think so?”
“I know so.” He put his chin on the top of my head. “Sure, some people, like Mack and maybe even Brooklyn, would be mad for a while, but they’d get over it. Especially when they realized they still get to eat, drink, and party for free.”
I frowned. “That’s pretty cynical, especially to say of Mack, your own sister.”
Nathan’s answering noncommittal noise rumbled above my head. “Is it, though?” he asked. “Or is it the truth?”
We lay there for a few more moments before I sighed and pushed away from him. “I should get ready,” I said. “I promised Mack I’d be at her place around five. Traffic is going to be heavy around this time, so it’s going to take me even longer to get to her.”
“You’re really gonna choose her over me?” The pout was back, but it looked more real this time.
I smiled, bending down to peck him on the lips. “Why don’t we leave early?” I suggested. “Make an appearance, then leave? Best of both worlds.”
Though he still looked put out about it, he sighed and nodded. “Fine,” he said. “Deal.”
I kissed him again, this time lingering. Truth be told, the thought of staying in with Nathan was more appealing than a party would ever be, but I suspected falling out of Mack’s good graces by missing the party would put meandNathan in the line of fire. I didn’t want to fight with my sister-in-law and risk her ire.
Still, the tiny part of me that agreed with Estelle, that I shouldn’t get wrapped up in Nathan’s family, was worried about me doing just that.
I quickly got ready, stumbling out of the apartment with a hasty goodbye to Nathan. As I passed our mailbox, I stopped, hesitating. Jingling my keys, I started to fidget, my mind getting stuck onshould I or shouldn’t I?My breathing accelerated; a drop of sweat raced between my shoulder blades.
Stop overthinking it,I told myself.Just check the damn mail.
With a strong exhale, I found my mailbox key and opened the box. I flipped through the junk and bills, and then, there it was: a large envelope with my name on it, from George Washing College of New Jersey. My hands shook as I opened it, but it was clear that I had been accepted when I saw the glossy folder withCongratulations!printed in gold cursive font.
And though I had always pictured this being the happiest moment of my life, now, I felt just as panicked. It was no longer about how I would pay for it, or leaving my dad behind in Hemingway. No. I had the nerve to go and fall in love with my husband in a marriage of convenience, and I couldn’t see myself leaving.
ChapterThirty-Two
NATHAN
When Ciara left, I sat for a moment, unsure of what to do with myself. So I threw myself into work.
But something wasn’t right. I couldn’t focus, and I wasn’t sure why.
Telling Ciara about the way my family dealt with money opened up a floodgate of memories of me and my mom, my mind moving through them so quickly, they seemed to play in my head all at once. I remembered the long hours when she drilled our family history and information about our assets into my head; the meetings with our lawyers that she made me attend; the financial talks she had me sit in on just so thinking and talking about it would be like second nature to me. I had complained about it endlessly, and those complaints did not move my mom in the slightest.I won’t be around forever,she would say.And you’ll have to carry this family long after I’m gone.
But it wasn’t just the hard memories. The fun ones also kept me from my work. Memories of my mom at every one of my basketball games, cheering me on and coaching from the bleachers; or that one time a teacher treated me unfairly because she wanted to “teach all the rich kids a lesson” and my mom gave her a piece of her mind; or her secretly helping me reach my target candy-bar-selling goal for school by slipping me a hundred-dollar bill and buying out all my candy.
Or even memories without me directly involved. In my mind’s eye, I could see all the times that Dad would make her put away whatever project she was working on and slow dance with him in the kitchen. Or the fashion shows Mack would whine about until Mom joined. Or the cuddle sessions that she would indulge John in, all the way through high school, even though he would deny this side of himself to anyone other than Mom.
I sat back on the couch, letting the memories wash over me, the tightness in my chest overwhelming me. Up until that moment, I had done what I always did: I had compartmentalized my feelings, put them in a box that I hoped to never reopen. The burden of carrying the family went in another box, and my hopes and dreams for my own future sat in a different space. All of these untouchable, unreachable boxes came tumbling down from the proverbial closet, leaving my mind and emotions a mess. I sat on my couch, holding my head in my hands, letting the tears stream down my face.
“Mom,” I gasped, the way I used to when I was little and had a bad dream. I would slip out of bed, running down the hall to my parents’ room, bare feet on the hardwood floors, and dive into bed on her side. She never asked questions; she simply rubbed my back and planted a kiss on my forehead. But she wasn’t around to do that anymore.
I’d known I missed my mother; I just hadn’t known how much until that very moment. I had packed it so neatly that somehow, I had been able to get through the days. But now, I wondered what her thoughts were in her last moments. Did she worry about us kids? About me? Was she scared? Proud?
I would never know.
“Enough wallowing,” I muttered after what felt like an eon. “Time to get up.” I took some deep breaths, making an effort to clear my mind—and stuff my emotions down again. I quickly changed into my workout gear, texting Harold as I put my shoes on:You up for a quick game?The response was instantaneous…and judgmental.
Harold:Before your engagement party? ?? You do remember who your sister is, right?
