At some point, both my parents had come to stand beside me.
My mother had spent decades in business, decisive and hard-edged, the kind of woman who never let her temper reach her face. But even a saint has a breaking point, and hers had been ground down to it. She said nothing, only took my hand and patted it, quiet reassurance.
The veins stood out at my father's temple. He took the phone from my hand, his eyes rimmed red, and spoke with terrible calm.
"Guy. Nora is our only daughter. No one gets to treat her like this in front of me."
"You and Nora were together seven years before it came to this wedding. We wanted this day to go smoothly, all of us. You see it differently than we do, and we don't hold that against you. I only want one thing from you. Send the makeup artist over now. Show me you actually want to marry my daughter."
There was a long hesitation on the other end.
"Dad! Let's think of the big picture first. Help me talk Nora into getting her makeup done, and I'll head over for the pickup right away. The relatives are all here. Don't let outsiders have a laugh at us."
"After the wedding, hit me, yell at me, I'll come crawling to beg forgiveness, whatever you want!"
"Don't call me Dad."
My father hung up, the disappointment plain on his face.
I took my phone back, lowered my head, and opened the wedding-planning group chat.
"Cancel the morning-robe photos. Cancel the bride pickup segment on my end too."
The lead planner replied almost at once.
"And the rest of the schedule? Should we keep it moving as normal?"
I thought for a moment, then typed.
"Keep filming. We'll figure out the rest later."
I lifted my head.
"Dad, Mom. I don't want to just let it go."
My parents exchanged a glance.
My father stepped forward and gently wiped away my tears. He spoke first.
"Don't be afraid, Nora."
I'd heard those words for twenty-seven years. With him there, I truly had nothing to fear.
"Dad's going to go call over all a dozen of your uncles and cousins right now."
I'm an only daughter, but my father has brothers. After those brothers had produced a good ten sons between them, I arrived as the only girl in the whole Simmons family. The most doted on.
My mother pulled me into a light hug.
"Whatever you decide to do next, I'm behind you."
Then she called over the makeup artist we'd found on short notice.
"Would you do my daughter's makeup first? Not a bridal look. Just something that makes her look fresh and put-together."
She turned away to call Judith.
"It's all right that you can't come. Don't do anyone else's makeup, not one person who isn't us."
"We'll pay you all the same."
Harper cursed the cheating scum under her breath, and Chloe rubbed my back, aching for me.
The aunt who'd been overseeing the bride's send-off, who had watched the whole thing, was seething too.
"I'll go explain to our side of the family. No one gets away with bullying a person like this."
The videographer flashed me an okay, letting me know he'd caught all of it.
Guy called again. I rejected every one.
I peeled off the traditional bridal gown and changed into the white dress I always wear.
I sat down in front of the mirror.
Reading Guy's messages, I let out a scornful laugh.
"Baby, another hour and a half and I can come pick you up. Be good."
The makeup artist's hands moved over my face, dabbing and blending.
Maybe it was because things had already fallen so far. The anxiety that had gripped me from the moment I learned the celebrity makeup artist had been "handed over" to someone else, strangely, settled into calm.
The seven years with Guy played through my mind like a film.
We were college classmates.
He fell for me at first sight and came on strong.
Guy was tall and handsome, easygoing, and he had that upperclassman glow, a year ahead of me. Falling for him felt like the natural order of things.
We dated, studied together, went out together, four sweet years.
Until I graduated. We came back to Northfield to build our lives, and his adopted sister began to appear in ours more and more.
