Page 134 of The Love Destroyers

It’s not every day your mother gets married for the fourth time.

I wanted everything to be perfect for Mom, because I can tell this is the first time she’s been truly excited about getting married. She liked Mark—we all liked Mark, including his poet friend—but shelovesChuck.

I have much more value for that kind of love than I did at Anthony’s wedding, and he and Rosie keep proving that my preliminary judgement of their chances of marital happiness was just that—preliminary and unfounded in reality.

“You may need that drink more than I do,” my mother says as I pass her the gin and tonic I made her for a little stress reliever. We’re relaxing in one of the sitting rooms before the ceremony. Claire and Declan are already here, and so is Chuck. He moved into Smith House two years ago, and I moved into the apartment he was sharing with Seamus. He’s made the joke about trading spacesmanytimes, but we all still offer him polite laughter. Seamus is keeping him company right now, along with Claire and Declan.

“I’m not nervous,” I say automatically. “Besides, I’ll pour one for myself, too.”

I do, feeling my mother watching me as I take a gulp of the drink.

“You’re practically jittering,” she says. “Everything will be fine. Claire made alovelycake.”

She did. It’s sitting out in the ballroom—a mammoth cake, at least two feet high. Seamus told her it was more of a first marriage cake when she and Declan brought it in from her van a half an hour ago, and she quite rightly shoved him.

“I’m just really happy for you two,” I tell my mother, smoothing the side of her dress. She’s wearing a gorgeous blue lace gown. My bridesmaid’s dress is cream-colored—unconventional, to be certain, but so is she. Claire, Rosie, and Lainey are all bridesmaids too, while Seamus, Declan, Anthony, and Jake are standing up with Chuck.

My mother had a surprisingly large list of invitees, and so did Chuck, who has only been in Asheville for a few years but has a large and varied list of friends.

When someone asked my mother if she’d be wearing white, she gave them a death stare and said, “I’ve been married three times and have two children, what do you think?”

She captures my hand to stop me from continuing to smooth the fabric. “Areyouready to get married?”

“Seamus and I don’t need to get married,” I scoff, summoning an eyeroll. “We’re not sure about kids, and we both know exactly how we feel about each other.”

It’s true. I love Seamus completely, and I know he loves me the same way. We give each other shit constantly, and we both know that if the other person needed something we would drop everything, instantly, to give it to them. I never, ever thought I could have a relationship like this.

And yet…

Part of me feels a sense ofyearning. I never expected to feel this way. Although I don’t work on only divorces anymore, I have seen love destruct thousands of different ways.

Why, even my friend Sophie, who I reconnected with this year, has her own heartbreak story about the dud of a fiancé she had during Operation Love Destroyers. She’ll be here today. My business partner, Mary, also had a horror story of a divorce, although you wouldn’t know it now. She and her second husband are blissfully happy together, and even more different from each other than Seamus and me.

Because Seamus and I have the same fire inside of us.

That’s why, despite having seen all that heartbreak, part of me wants to pledge forever to him, and for him to do the same to me. I’ve stopped trying to muffle the different parts of myself, so I’ve acknowledged that feeling’s right to exist even if I don’t totally understand it.

“True,” my mother says with a shrug. “But Chuck will be disappointed to hear that. Itisa good excuse to have a party. We plan on doing a lot of traveling after the wedding, but I don’t want him to give up what he enjoys.” She takes another sip of her drink, watching me over the lip of the glass. There’s a sparkle in her eyes. “You might also want to mention your disinterest in marriage to your young man. He asked me for my blessing, you know. Anthony too.”

“He did what?” I snap, nearly dropping my glass.

“Goodness, Emma. Drink that up. He asked for our blessing, not our permission. Everyone knows you’re not a goat.”

I take my mother’s advice and knock back the drink, my heart thumping quickly in my chest.

“When did this happen?” I ask tightly.

“Oh, who knows,” she says as if it doesn’t matter. “When you’re my age, the days start to float together.” She peers at the clock mounted beside the door, then takes another sip of herdrink, her hand shaking the slightest bit, showing that even the great Dahlia Rosings isn’t immune to nerves. “It’s almost time. Are Anthony and Rosie here yet? Wouldn’t it be something if the baby was born today?”

Rosie is eight-and-half months pregnant with their first child.

“My niece will have the sense to wait,” I say, leaning in to kiss her cheek. I set the glass down and leave the room. As I walk, I tell myself,focus on the wedding, focus on the wedding…

Because my mind keeps skipping to Seamus. Seamus, asking for my mother’s and brother’s blessing.

That’s not like him at all.

It’s also heartbreakingly sweet.

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