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It’s time to head to my parents’ house for dinner, so I pack up my things and make my way out. I stop to poke my head into Stephanie’s office, telling her I’m gone for the day. Once that’s done and I say quick goodbyes, I make my way out to the Lincoln on the curb waiting for me.
This is the first time since early this morning that I’ve had a quiet moment, and my thoughts immediately go to confronting Christopher last night.
I’m uneasy and unsure of how to proceed. Do I bring it up again or leave it be?
Christopher usually meets me at my parent’s house because his quitting times vary from day to day, but I haven’t heard from him at all. Tension lines my shoulders since I don’t know what to expect with him or if he will even show up. That seems unlikely though, because Christopher never misses a chance to see my dad and brother Andrew.
They’ve been close to one another for years. Christopher and Andrew are the same age and even went to high school together. They partied together, had the same groups of friends, played football together, and even went to the same college. My dad ate up every minute with him and “his boys”.
I used to love how close Christopher is to my family. However, because of the wedding planning, I’ve noticed that my family sides with Christopher more often than not. He’s the golden boy, and I’m the woman at his side who needs to fall in line.
At least, that’s how I’ve felt for months. Somehow, every little decision is always deferred to him and what he wants. At this point, I feel like Christopher and my parents are the ones getting married.
I pushed back at first—stating this wedding was just as much mine as it was his—but I’m losing the fire in my belly, that urge to fight back. I don’t know what I want anymore, but I know this over-the-top wedding isn’t it.
Though I don’t know how to get out of that either.
The driver pulls up to the gate in front of my parents’ estate. I grew up here but never quite noticed the oppressive feeling that comes with the sprawling two-story Mediterranean style home.
The gates open to the circular drive, and the driver pulls up to the front doors.It’s game time. He opens my door at the same time the front door swings open, and I look over to find my mother standing at the top of the stairs.
I get out of the car, making my way up the stairs to stand in front of my mother. She’s impeccably dressed as always, not a hair out of place, in a calf length modest black dress, a gold belt around her trim waist and her favorite heels on. Growing up her favorite saying to tell us kids was, “you only get one impression when meeting new people and us Shaws never fail to impress.”
“You’re late, Andrea. You know how I feel about tardiness.”
And here we go. It seems we’re starting good and early with my inability to please her. Somehow, I always manage to fall short.
“It’s just a few minutes, Mother. There was a bit of traffic.”
She scoffs at my response, turns, and walks into the grand foyer.
“Daniel, please take Andrea’s purse,” she orders with her back to us as she crosses the threshold.
Rolling my eyes at her abrupt tone, I turn towards Daniel—our family’s long-time butler—and hand him my purse.
“Hey, Daniel, how are you and the wife these days?”
He takes my purse and walks to the closet in the foyer to hang it.
“Everyone is doing great, Ms. Andrea. My grandbaby just turned one, and we’re eating up all those baby snuggles.”
I smile affectionately at the kind man who has been present for my entire life. Some of my fondest childhood memories include him. Dad worked constantly, and Mom busied herself with charity events to fill her time. Daniel was our only constant in life.
My mother is already making her way back to the formal dining room. “Come, Andrea. The food is getting cold, and Christopher is already here,” she called rather loudly.
Ah, that’s what this is about.
The golden boy must be starving, and we can’t possibly deny him!
I roll my eyes and continue to head after Mom into the dining room. Everyone is already seated. My dad is at the head of the table, Mom to the left, Andrew directly beside her, and Christopher across from Mom.
“Where is Adalyn?”
I move to sit next to Christopher, knowing it would be weird to not sit beside him, but I’m careful not to make eye contact with him.
My mother’s stern voice meets my ears as I take my seat. “She’s out with her friends tonight.”
Family dinners have been mandatory for so long, I’m surprised they let her out of it.Lucky girl.
