The first wedding fell through because Brenna Whitfield said the date we'd chosen clashed with her fortune.
So Stanley Delgado changed the wedding date.
The second wedding fell through because Brenna said Stanley's groom's suit was stiff and dowdy, not as good as the one she could design.
So Stanley put the wedding off again to wait for the suit she'd design.
The third wedding was three days away when Brenna looked out over a hall full of red roses and curled her lip in distaste.
"What era do you think this is? Roses for decoration? It's ugly and cheap."
"Stanley, if you ask me, we should switch to hydrangeas and peonies. That's what's fashionable now."
As she said it she picked up one of the roses beside her, pressed lightly with her fingers, and the stem snapped, the petals scattering to the floor.
The planner looked pained. "The wedding is three days away. There's no way we can redo everything in time."
Stanley took a few steps forward. "Then push the wedding back another month and redecorate."
"Brenna works in fashion. You can't go wrong listening to her. Nora Quimby, what do you think?"
In the past, I would have laid it all out for him. The invitations had gone out, the venue was booked, breaking the contract meant paying penalties.
And besides, roses are my favorite flower, and a wedding should be decorated the way the bride and groom want it.
But I looked at the rose petals crushed under his foot, ground into the floor.
Like a wedding pushed back again and again, the joy and the anticipation nothing like they'd been at the start.
And suddenly I had no wish left to argue.
I opened the message about the arranged marriage my mother had sent yesterday.
I'd promised her that if this wedding couldn't go off smoothly either, I'd come home for the arranged marriage.
I typed out a few words. "All right. I'll come home for the marriage."
Once, twice, but not a third time.
This wedding, with no hope left in it.
I didn't want it anymore.
1
"Who are you texting?"
Stanley slid an arm around my shoulders and leaned down to look.
I slipped my phone into my bag. "It's nothing."
But Brenna sighed. "Is Nora upset with me? I suppose that's fair. It's your wedding, I really shouldn't have said anything. But honestly, decorating with red roses is pretty tacky."
Stanley laughed helplessly. "All right, little princess, enough complaining. I already said we'd delay the wedding. When the time comes we'll do it your way, hydrangeas and peonies. Happy now?"
Stanley gave my shoulders another little shake. "You're okay with that too, right?"
His arm was around me, the question was for me, but his eyes were fixed on Brenna, soft and indulgent.
Something in my chest went tight, and a sour ache rose up.
I couldn't help thinking back to our first wedding, set two years ago.
Pushed back because of one word from Brenna about her fortune clashing.
Stanley said he and Brenna had grown up together like childhood sweethearts, that they'd promised each other they'd be at each other's weddings.
So I stayed up all night sending apologies and explanations to everyone who'd received an invitation.
I found someone to pick a new wedding date, one that steered clear of any clash with Brenna's fortune.
The wedding was finally set for a year ago.
The day before the wedding, Stanley wore the suit I'd designed while we rehearsed the ceremony together.
Brenna said his suit was ugly and dowdy, not fit to be seen.
His buddies chimed in right after her.
"It really is pretty ugly. Brenna's design would look so much better."
"Other people's handmade suits take two or three years. How good could one made in half a year be?"
"You should just have Brenna design one for you. A wedding is the biggest event of your life, after all."
Stanley knew perfectly well I'd spent half a year making that suit by hand, stitch by stitch.
And still he nodded along. "Nora's taste really isn't as good as Brenna's."
"So I'll leave my groom's suit to you. Whenever you finish it is whenever we'll hold the wedding."
