Chapter 2

Ryan texts at eight the next morning.

Still picking you up at eleven.

My mother is being discharged.

I type back:

I'll arrange a ride.

His reply comes immediately.

Stop being difficult. I said I'd be there.

At ten forty-five, Mom is dressed, her medication is packed, and a volunteer has brought a wheelchair.

At eleven fifteen, Ryan texts again.

Change of plans. Sophie's using her pass today. Taking her to my parents'.

I call him.

He answers on the third ring.

"Can you ask them to bring the car around?" Sophie says in the background.

"The family lunch?" I ask.

"Yes."

"The lunch to discuss our wedding?"

"Claire."

"You told me you were coming."

"I can send a car."

"My mother is sitting in a wheelchair waiting for you."

"And a driver can bring the car to the entrance. What difference does it make?"

I look at Mom.

She's pretending not to listen.

"None," I say.

Ryan exhales, relieved.

"Good. Thank you."

I hang up before he can tell me I'm improving.

Mom and I take a cab.

By the time I get her settled, Ryan's mother has posted a picture in the wedding group chat.

Sophie is sitting beside him.

She's wearing the pearl bracelet his mother showed me last Christmas.

The one she said she would give me when I joined the family.

An aunt comments beneath the picture.

Is this our bride?

Ryan doesn't answer.

Ten minutes later, someone asks where I am.

Claire's with her mom, he writes. Sophie's filling in.

My phone buzzes with a private message.

Sophie has sent a close-up of the bracelet.

Your future mother-in-law insisted. Just for today!

I reply:

Give it back to her when you're done.

A minute later, Luke texts me.

She spends her afternoon being nice to your in-laws and that's all you've got?

Then Adam:

You weren't there. Somebody had to make an effort.

I put the phone facedown.

Mom is trying to open a bottle of water with one hand.

I open it for her.

"Go eat something," she says.

"I will."

"You've been saying that since yesterday."

I make us toast.

While it browns, I check the wedding portal again.

The menu has changed.

The song I picked for the processional is gone.

My mother's seat has been moved from the family table to a table near the back.

I call Melissa.

"Why was my mother moved?"

"Ryan approved a revised seating chart."

"Who revised it?"

She doesn't answer quickly enough.

I close my eyes.

"Please send me every change made since Sophie was added."

"Of course."

"And an itemized statement. Everything I've paid, everything still refundable, and everything you haven't charged yet."

"Claire, is the wedding going ahead?"

"I'm not going ahead with it."

Melissa is quiet.

Then her voice changes.

"All right. Let's work out what you need."

I ask her to remove my card from future payments and send me the terms for withdrawing from the remaining arrangements.

She explains that some deposits are already committed. Ryan can keep the venue reservation if he takes responsibility for the balance.

"Send that to both of us," I say.

Ryan calls less than an hour later.

"Why is Melissa asking me for a credit card?"

"Because I removed mine."

"You can't just stop paying."

"I can."

"This is our wedding."

"Then why is Sophie choosing the music?"

"She's helping."

"And moving my mother?"

"Your mother doesn't like being in the middle of things."

"My mother likes sitting beside me."

He goes silent.

Then he says, "Do you hear yourself? You're turning a seating chart into another fight about Sophie."

I lean against Mom's kitchen counter.

"When does she stop filling in for me?"

"When you stop treating everything like a competition."

I end the call.

That evening, I email the manager who offered me a position in Portland six months ago.

I turned it down because I was getting married.

I ask whether there are still any openings.

Then I call the rehabilitation clinic Mom's surgeon recommended near her sister's old neighborhood.

For the first time in months, I spend an evening making plans that don't depend on Ryan.

At nine, Melissa forwards his response.

Keep everything. I'll cover the balance. Claire and I will sort this out.

Below it is a new photograph Sophie has posted.

Her fingers are laced through Ryan's.

The bracelet hangs against his wrist.

Borrowing him for one more day.

Underneath, Ryan has commented about the bracelet.

Keep it on. No point taking it off and putting it back on.

I look at the photo once.

Then I save it with the others.