Claire waited too long before answering.
That hurt more than I expected.
“Mara, Mom can be dramatic, but this is a lot.”
“No,” I said. “Stealing my wedding guests is a lot. Lying about my fiancé is a lot. Calling me unstable because I set boundaries is a lot.”
Claire whispered, “What are you going to do?”
“I’m getting married.”
At noon, an event coordinator from the Fairmont accidentally called me.
“Mrs. Harrington?” she asked.
“This is her daughter.”
“Oh.” She hesitated. “I’m sorry. I was returning the call about the anniversary event. We’ve received twelve cancellations this morning, and a few guests asked whether the Harrington wedding was actually happening.”
I looked across the kitchen at Daniel.
A slight smile formed on his face.
“Yes,” I said. “The wedding is absolutely happening.”
By Friday, forty-six guests had canceled my mother’s anniversary celebration.
By Saturday, seventy-three people had reconfirmed their attendance at my wedding.
By Sunday, my father arrived at my apartment.
He brought no flowers and offered no apology. He stood in the hallway wearing a navy coat and the injured expression of a man insulted by the consequences of his own choices.
“Your mother has not slept,” he said.
“That sounds unpleasant.”
“She made one mistake.”
“She lied to half the family.”
“She was hurt.”
“She tried to ruin my wedding.”
His jaw tightened. “You always were difficult.”
There it was.
The family judgment, familiar and polished from years of use.
I opened the door farther. “Then this should not surprise you.”
He looked at me as though I had become a stranger.
“Fix it,” he said.
“No.”
