After all, he was the one who despised her trailing after him like a lovesick puppy.
He'd even said her love made him sick.
In that moment, though my heart felt like it was being carved open, a strange relief washed over me.
If the wedding was off, at least I didn't have to keep lowering myself to the dust, waiting for him to finally marry me.
My mother was still rambling on about how women who knew how to act sweet always had the best lives. The grievance lodged in my chest suddenly lost its desire for an audience.
"Mom, the wedding's canceled. There's no way I'm marrying him!"
I hung up and called the wedding planning company to cancel tomorrow's ceremony.
The emcee went quiet for a beat before speaking.
"Mr. Rowe already called about this. The thing is, he asked us to keep the decorations and banners in storage for two years. That's going to be tough. Most of those materials are single-use..."
It clicked instantly. He'd picked that fight on purpose, just to make me deal with all the fallout and the questions.
And he actually believed I'd wait for him for two years, like those cheap decorations gathering dust in a warehouse.
"Throw it all out. Even if it weren't disposable, two years in storage would rot it."
Just like his love for me.
It would fade and vanish with time.
After hanging up, I scrolled to my mother-in-law's number and felt a headache coming on.
Philippa Rowe despised Nellie Simmons. If she found out her son had already signed a marriage certificate with that woman, she might keel over from sheer rage.
I took a deep breath and transferred the $88,000 wedding fund back to her, every last cent.
I counted to three in my head.
The phone rang.
"Grace, sweetheart, why did you send the wedding fund back?"
"Mom, Mark and I aren't getting married right now. We'll talk about it in a couple of years."
Philippa was sharp. She caught the wrongness immediately.
"Did Mark do something to hurt you? I'm going over there right now! The wedding tomorrow is happening as planned!"
"Mrs. Rowe, the wedding really can't go forward..."
But Philippa had already hung up.
It was Mark's turn to figure out how to handle his own mother.
And it was my turn to pack and leave.
The apartment was still dressed for a celebration. Every detail reflected the happy married life I'd spent weeks imagining.
Now each one was a blade twisting into my chest.
There wasn't much to take. A single suitcase, and it wasn't even full.
But there was plenty to throw away.
By the time I finished, I noticed Mark had called me several times.
Didn't take a genius to figure out why. He wanted to blame me for not keeping Philippa under control.
I set the key on the entryway table and picked up the last framed wedding portrait on my way to the door.
I walked straight into Mark.
The portrait smashed against the floor, shattering into pieces.
A shard sliced across the top of my foot, and blood welled up instantly.
Mark grabbed Nellie and pulled her behind him, his face tight with irritation.
"Grace, what the hell? Didn't you see Nellie standing there? What if you'd hurt her?"
He didn't see the blood pooling on my foot. Instead, he crouched down and carefully brushed a speck of glass no bigger than a pinhead off Nellie's shoe.
I had no interest in watching him dote on another woman. I grabbed my suitcase and walked past them.
His peripheral vision caught the suitcase. He shot to his feet and seized my arm.
"Grace, where are you going?"
I opened my mouth to answer, but his phone rang.
I saw the caller ID. Philippa.
He answered with barely concealed impatience.
"Fine! I know! It's not canceled! I'll smooth things over with her! Don't worry!"
He hung up and turned to me.
"Grace, my mom says the wedding tomorrow has to go ahead as planned."
"I don't want to upset her, so let's keep everything as is. But could you run away? Flee to France? I'll book the ticket for you myself."
"My mom adores you. If you bolt, she'll definitely send me after you. That way I can keep pretending I'm overseas chasing you down."
