Page 48 of Monsters, Vows, and Growls
“Guests. We’re finalizing today. No more maybes, no more we’ll-sees. This is it.”
“Alright,” I said, pushing my sketchpad aside. “Hit me.”
She started rattling off names, and I nodded along—Evan, the entire kitchen crew atSmoke & Ember, my dad, half the neighborhood, two elderly sisters from her favorite pastry shop, and someone named Uncle Ron who wasn’t technically her uncle but used to sneak her chocolate croissants.
And then she said it.
“My mom.”
I blinked. “Lisa?”
“Yes,” she said, too evenly. “She’s my mother. I can’tnotinvite her.”
I took a breath. “Ella…”
“I know,” she cut in. “But she’s still my mom.”
“She’s also the woman who told me last time we visited that she hoped our kids wouldn’t inherit myshifter problem,” I said, proud that I kept my voice tension-free. My future mother-in-law really got to me. Always. I knew she was different, to put it nicely, but still. “And then she offered you an old charm bracelet to remind you of who you used to be.”
“It's a family heirloom.”
“It was a passive-aggressive guilt bomb wrapped in tarnished silver,” I snapped.
Ella flinched, and I regretted it immediately.
“She’s difficult,” she said tightly. “But she’s my family.”
“And I’m not?” I asked, hating how harsh it sounded.
“You are!” she said. “God, Patrick. You’re myeverything.But I can’t cut her out of my life just because it makes things easier for us.”
I leaned back in my chair, running a hand through my hair. “I’m not asking you to cut her out. I’m asking if we really need her at the wedding.”
The silence that followed stretched long and thin, the tension still crackled in the air between us like a summer storm that hadn’t quite passed yet. Ella didn’t answer right away. She just stared at the floor, chewing her lip like it might give her better words.
Eventually, she let out a breath that sounded like surrender—maybe not to me, but to the ache between us. She strode over and sat down on my lap, I welcomed her by putting my arms around her, while her cheek rested against my shoulder, both of us stayed quiet in the afterglow of our near-argument. But I could feel it—the hum beneath her skin. The vibe ofnot done yet.
“Can I ask you something?” she said softly.
I tipped my chin toward her. “Always.”
She sat up just enough to meet my eyes. “How would you feel… if I asked you not to invite Gabe?”
I blinked. “What?”
“If I said I didn’t want him at the wedding. Because of Carol. Because they don’t get along. Because he makes her feel like garbage every time he opens his mouth.”
I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to stay calm. “That’s not the same, Ells.”
“Isn’t it?”
“No.” My voice came out sharper than I meant, but I didn’t take it back. “Gabe might be a pain in the ass, and yeah, he and Carol have history—weird, slightly terrifying history—but my brother doesn’t look at half the guest list like they’re second-class citizens.”
Her face tightened. “You think I don’t get that?”
“I don’t know.” I stood, setting her gently on the floor. I needed space—not a lot, just enough to think without her heartbeat pressed against mine. “Because you’re comparing your mom’s prejudice to a mutual grudge match between two people who could win Olympic medals in passive aggression.”
“That’s not fair,” she said, crossing her arms. “Carol doesn’t justgrudge match. Gabegoes after her.Every. Time. He mocks her, undermines her, and acts like she’s a punchline. It’s not some petty rivalry. It’spersonal.And you know it.”
