Page 51 of Our Big White Lie
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m such a fucking mess.”
“I think anyone would be in your shoes, sweetheart.” He paused. “Especially since you’re not wearing the ones with proper support like I told you?—”
My tears turned to laughter, and I shoved him. “Asshole.”
He chuckled. “Takes one to know one.”
I gave him the finger. Then I pulled myself together and whispered, “Thank you. For talking sense into me.”
“Well, I am a black-belt officiant, after all.”
I burst out laughing, which helped.
He gave me one last quick hug, then went back inside to find Ava.
And I hoped to God he’d read her better than I had.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Ava
“Are you twosureyou don’t want any gifts?” Aunt Lacey asked. “Your cousin got a ton of kitchen appliances, not to mention money from people.”
I fought the urge to wrinkle my nose. I really hadn’t ever been super fond of expecting gifts from people, and expecting the high-value items (and checks) people often brought to a wedding—that just felt weird. Even if this wedding had been the real deal, I wasn’t so sure I’d have been comfortable with a gift registry or any of that.
“We’re good,” I insisted. “We both have pretty much everything we need or want in the kitchen.”
She opened her mouth, probably to insist that we could always usesomething. Thank God, though, Mom picked that moment to call Aunt Lacey away to give her a hand with one of the flower arrangements that had come loose on a chair.
Perfect. Now I could pour some water down my throat, catch my breath, and collect my thoughts. It was amazing how little time there was to do any of those things in the run-up to a wedding; I could only imagine what a stressed-out trainwreck I’d be if this were the real deal. Needless to say, I was relieved we were taking a break.
It wasn’t “real wedding” stress, but there was definitely some real stress going on. Things I couldn’t even talk to anyone about, because who could I tell? Who was going to understand why every step of the rehearsal was messing with my head? Or why all the doubts creeping in right now had nothing to do with cold feet or commitment or anything like that?
What are we doing, Tori?
This felt like something we should discuss. Like now. And also like something we couldn’t talk about because it would ruin everything. The wedding. The plan. The most important friendship I’d ever had.
Panic wrapped cold tentacles around my heart. Was this my gut telling me to slam on the brakes and not go through with this? Or did it even matter? I couldn’t bail. I couldn’t back out. I’d break my mom’s heart and quite possibly Tori’s and also?—
Also mine.
I swallowed some water to push back the lump I was pretending wasn’t in my throat.
No, I was overthinking all this. I absolutely adored Tori, and I was grateful for everything she was willing to be and do for my mom right now. That didn’t mean…
I drank some more water.
It didn’t mean anything. This was a performance. It was an act. It was something to let my mom live out a dream I hadn’t even realized she had.
Maybe that was why this was bothering me all of a sudden. It wasn’t the “marriage” to Tori—it was the reality about my mom. This had given her something to look forward to. When it was over… I mean, how many more things would she have before her disease caught up with her?
Fuck. Was this what grief was like? Being preemptively heartbroken because someone who was still here now wouldn’t be here for things later on?
Was I even going to be able to get through tomorrow?
I looked around and found my mom in the small crowd. She was by the rows of chairs, laughing at something my dad was saying. The fatigue from her treatments was impossible to miss; she leaned hard against the back of a chair and she got out of breath faster than she would have a few short months ago. Her eyes were still bright and she was still smiling like everything was right in her world, but her face was paler, her hair was thinner, and she didn’t stand quite as straight anymore.
She was still here, but there was only so much time left.
