Chương 7
Lauren pulled away.
“Mom.”
“This has gone far enough.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
The word came out louder than anything Lauren had said since arriving.
Even I flinched.
Denise stared at her.
Lauren wiped both palms down the front of her sweatshirt.
“I don’t want to marry him tomorrow.”
Ethan’s expression did not change at first.
Then his knees seemed to soften.
He reached for the hallway table.
Lauren looked directly at him.
“I love you.”
He closed his eyes.
“I know.”
“But I don’t know how to be with you anymore without checking everything.”
He opened his eyes again.
“And I don’t know how to be with you without lying about small things because I’m afraid they’ll become big things.”
Denise whispered, “Lauren, please.”
Lauren shook her head.
“I’m done pretending this is wedding stress.”
The porch light buzzed faintly above them.
Ethan pressed his lips together.
Then he said, “Okay.”
Lauren’s face twisted.
“That’s it?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know.”
“Neither do I.”
She nodded.
It was a terrible little agreement.
Denise looked between them as if both had violated a contract she alone understood.
“You are not canceling a wedding at one in the morning.”
Lauren turned toward her.
“I am.”
“You have one hundred forty people coming.”
“I know.”
“Your father’s sisters flew in from Chicago.”
“I know.”
“The florist is already setting up.”
“I know.”
“You will humiliate us.”
Lauren stared at her mother.
There was the center of it.
Not the marriage.
Not Ethan.
Not even the money.
Humiliation.
Ethan must have heard it too.
He looked at Denise with a strange calm.
“I’ll make the calls.”
Lauren said, “No.”
He looked at her.
“We’ll both make them.”
For the first time that night, they sounded like two people who had once been a team.
Only now the thing they were cooperating on was the end.
Denise stepped back from the door.
“I cannot believe this.”
Lauren laughed softly.
“That makes two of us.”
She looked at me.
“Margaret.”
I waited.
“I am sorry I hit you.”
Her voice did not shake.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me.”
“Good.”
She nodded once.
That answer hurt her.
It was supposed to.
Then she looked at Ethan.
“I’ll leave your things with the front desk.”
“Okay.”
“Your suit too.”
“Okay.”
“And the watch your dad gave you.”
He glanced toward the kitchen, perhaps remembering it was still at the hotel.
“Thanks.”
Lauren took one step down from the porch.
Then stopped.
“I really did love you.”
Ethan’s mouth tightened.
“I know.”
She waited.
He could not say it back.
Not there.
Not with all of us watching.
Maybe not anymore.
Denise followed her toward the driveway.
Before she reached the steps, she turned to me.
“This family will remember who made tonight impossible.”
I opened the storm door just enough for my voice to carry clearly.
“No, Denise.”
She stopped.
“Tonight was already impossible.”
I closed the door.
Behind me, Ethan slid down the wall until he was sitting on the hardwood floor.
I locked the deadbolt.
Then I sat beside him.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
The hardwood was cold through my nightgown, and I could hear the old wall clock in the living room counting seconds nobody in the house knew how to use.
Ethan leaned his head back against the wall.
“I feel relieved.”
I looked at him.
Then he started crying.
Not loudly.
His face simply folded, and he covered it with both hands.
“I feel relieved,” he said again, as if the fact disgusted him.
“You are allowed to.”
“I should feel worse.”
“You do feel worse.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“I know.”
He wiped his face with the heels of his palms.
“I was supposed to marry her tomorrow.”
“Yes.”
“And ten minutes ago I was scared she’d come through your front door.”
“Yes.”
“That seems insane.”
“Most bad situations seem obvious only after somebody says them plainly.”
He laughed once through his nose.
“You always have an answer.”
“No.”
“I think you do.”
“I have sentences.”
“That’s worse.”
I smiled.
Then we sat quietly again.
At one twenty-eight in the morning, my phone began vibrating on the kitchen counter almost continuously.
The cancellation had started moving through the family.
Daniel called.
Susan called.
Rebecca called twice.
Aunt Linda, who had not spoken to me since Christmas because I refused to serve sweet potatoes with marshmallows, sent a message that read, WHAT HAPPENED.
Ethan stared toward the kitchen.
“Do we tell everybody?”
“We tell the people who need to know.”
“Who needs to know?”
“The people who will otherwise put on formal clothes in six hours.”
He groaned and lowered his forehead to his knees.
“That’s all of them.”
His phone was still off.
“Use mine.”
He looked horrified.
“I can’t call a hundred people.”
“You are not calling a hundred people.”
“Denise probably will.”
“That is Denise’s problem.”
He lifted his head.
“What if she tells them I cheated and that’s why the wedding is off?”
“She might.”
“What do I say then?”
“The least complicated true thing.”
“Which is?”
“The wedding has been canceled because the relationship is not healthy enough to become a marriage.”
He grimaced.
“That sounds like HR wrote it.”
“It is one in the morning.”
“Fair.”
I stood carefully, my knees objecting to the floor.
Ethan offered a hand.
I took it.
We went back into the kitchen.
I found a yellow legal pad in the drawer beside the refrigerator and wrote down the people who actually needed immediate notification.
Parents.
Siblings.
Wedding party.
Venue coordinator.
Officiant.
Transportation company.
Photographer.
Everyone else could receive a group message in the morning.
Ethan stared at the list.
“You’re really good at disaster.”
“That is an unfortunate compliment.”
“I mean it.”
“So do I.”
He took the pen.
“I’ll call Mom.”
“Good.”
“You call Dad.”
“He already knows enough.”
May you like
“He’ll want to hear it from me.”
“Then you call him too.”
