Chapter 36 Luc
Today is August seventeenth, the day before our big date, and I don’t know where the time went.
It feels like last week that Cody told me we still had five months until today, and now we’re just one day away.
I’m so nervous; I can’t sit still for longer than five seconds, and I keep going through a list in my head, trying to make sure we’ve taken care of everything, but the conclusion is always the same: I believe we have, but I’m not sure.
It doesn’t help my nerves that lately, whenever I ask Cody about the cake, he becomes nervous and changes the topic.
That can only be a bad sign, if you ask me.
Maybe I shouldn’t have given it up when I did.
It’s the most essential thing for our wedding, which includes countless important details.
Since working at my dad’s cake shop, I’ve been picturing my wedding cake and how it would look.
And since I started working at Utopie, the cake shop in Besancon, I thought about it during every one of my shifts.
Sometimes, when making and selling wedding cakes, I had to remind myself it wasn’t my own cake I was making.
Giving it up to Cody wasn’t easy, but it seemed so crucial to him that I did.
One thing has become clear: that man is up to something.
I only hope it will work out in the end.
If anything goes wrong tomorrow, I don’t know what I’ll do. I only know I’ll respond poorly.
My mom is with me. Having her here the night before my wedding is both a blessing and a curse. Cody’s entire family is here from Canada, and they’ve abducted him.
“You get him for the rest of your life, so tonight he’s ours!
” Brian told me earlier today, laughing and throwing his arm around Cody’s neck.
He’s Cody’s best man at the wedding. I don’t think he likes me a lot.
He keeps looking at me a certain way, as if he doesn’t trust me and is just waiting for me to hurt Cody.
I don’t ever plan to, but I don’t think he’d believe me if I told him that.
Now, with Cody away, my mom is staying with me so she doesn’t have to get a hotel, and so I don’t have to be alone the night before my wedding. But as we enter the evening, talking through tomorrow’s itinerary—in French—I’m starting to think I’d rather be alone.
“So, I’m meeting Cody at the venue tomorrow. We have from ten until twelve o’clock to get ready while the photographer takes pictures of the venue, rings, invitations, things like that.”
My mom nods. “And of the cake?”
I cringe internally. Without knowing it, my mother hit a sore spot. “Maybe, probably, I don’t know . . . Cody’s taking care of the cake, and he’s being very mysterious about it.”
She frowns at that. “Mysterious? My dear boy, are you telling me you haven’t seen or tasted your own wedding cake?!”
“Oui . . .”
“And you’re alright with that?”
I shrug, unwilling to get into it with her. “I guess I’ll know tomorrow.”
“You’re a cake baker! And not only that, but you’re also the son of a cake baker. If anything, your opinion matters most of all.”
“Yes, well, speaking of Dad . . . I invited him, so if he’s there tomorrow, I expect you to be nice to him.”
She looks unhappy with that, and I know I’m in for more trouble. “What do you mean by if? He hasn’t responded to your invitation?”
“No, but he probably just forgot to let me know. He’ll be there and—”
My mom waves it off. “He’s not going to show.”
I hate how she says it, like that’s a good thing, as if I’m supposed to be relieved about it.
But she seems to be forgetting that he’s my dad.
He and I may have our issues, but he’s been there throughout all my life, and this is another milestone I want him to be a part of.
Deep down, I may even want his blessing.
“But what if he is?” I ask her, already picturing my parents arguing from opposite sides of the venue, with me trying to get married in between. “I invited him. I want him to come.”
She throws me a look of disappointment. “More so than your own mother?”
I frown at her and blink slowly, annoyance building inside me. “I’m going to give you a chance to remember who I lived with after your divorce and whose company I worked at. Maybe then you’ll want to reconsider that question.”
She makes a sound of disbelief and stares at me for several seconds before admitting defeat. “Okay, fine, but he’s not here now, is he? He’s not keeping you company while your fiancé’s spending time with his family. If it were up to your father, you’d be alone now.”
I have to admit she has a point there. My dad hasn’t asked a single question about the wedding; all I have is a thumbs-up icon in response to the last message I sent him.
Whereas my mom is here, like she just said.
Not that I’m entirely happy about that. Perhaps it would be better if I were alone, or if I could just spend the night with Cody, but then .
. . I do like the tradition of the wedding couple spending the night apart before the wedding.
And this way, we’re both with our families.
He’s probably having a much better time than me, though.
I sigh. “That’s probably true.”
My mother gives me a sympathetic smile, then decides to let it go. “Tell me what the rest of the day looks like.”
I nod, happy with the change of topic, and tell her about the full itinerary. At nine thirty, my mom will drive us to the venue. I’m thrilled about what we landed on: a beautiful renovated farm with sunflower fields and a small lavender patch just outside Besancon.
Once Cody and I are ready, we’ll have from noon until two for photos—just the two of us, as well as with our families—captured both inside the farmhouse and out in the flower fields.
Then, between two thirty and three p.m. the guests will arrive, and at three o’clock the ceremony will take place outside, if the weather holds, with Cody and me exchanging vows beneath an arch of greens and sunflowers.
It will be a short ceremony, just twenty minutes, then it’s drinks, some more pictures, and eventually dinner at five inside one of the barns.
At seven, and this is the tricky part, the wedding cake should be wheeled out.
Cody and I will slice it, and it’ll be served as dessert.
But that is if everything goes well . . . hopefully.
Afterward, there’ll be dancing, drinking, and more pictures taken of Cody and me at night underneath the stars.
The festivities end at midnight, and the guests will leave at that time, leaving Cody and me to our wedding night.
It all sounds great to me, but that’s only if everything goes to plan and if Cody delivers on his promises about the wedding cake.
“That sounds lovely,” my mom says when I’m done telling her about the plans. “Well done, sweetheart. And to make things even better, starting tomorrow, at least half of what he owns is yours,” my mom says, raising her glass to me and smiling devilishly.
I roll my eyes. Of course she would go there; it’s so typically my mother. After I described my dream wedding to her, she immediately thinks about money. Perhaps I should have guessed that she would bring this up eventually, and I know I’ll have to let her down. Well, here we go, I suppose.
“It’s not,” I tell her. “Cody and I have a prenup; it was signed a few weeks ago at a notary’s office.”
At first, it’s like she didn’t even hear me. She only stares at me and blinks. But then, a couple of seconds later, her mouth falls open, and she almost drops the glass of red wine I poured her. Luckily, it stays in her grasp, or it’d leave stains that would surely cost Cody and me our deposit.
“A prenup?!” she exclaims loudly enough for the neighbors to hear. Then her gaze turns sympathetic, almost pitiful. “Oh, you poor thing.”
I chuckle inwardly. She actually sympathizes with me. Mon Dieu, do I have another surprise for her . . . “I’m actually the one who suggested it. I did it for both of us.”
My mom looks like she’s about to fall off the couch. She sits there, wide-eyed, taking a long time to put the glass on the table—maybe because she fears she’ll actually drop it. “You what?! You suggested it?” she exclaims. “You stupid boy! What were you thinking? Have I taught you nothing?”
I shrug. “Not really. Except how to make my husband absolutely miserable, perhaps. I mean, look at Dad. What did he do that was so terrible that you had to take everything from him?”
She tenses up, her lips forming into a thin line. “I only gave him what he deserved. I trusted him, but he lied to me for years, cheating his way through our marriage like it was nothing.”
I swallow hard. I may be an adult, but it’s never a good age to hear that your father is an adulterer. Part of me knew it had to be bad, and this was always the likely scenario. But actually hearing it still sucks.
My mom continues. “He always said he was going on business trips, and I was stupid enough to believe him . . . until a woman called him at home and I answered, and the truth came to light. It turned out he was in hotels in other cities having affairs all along.”
Fuck. Business trips? Affairs? I can feel myself panicking.
Today, on the day before my wedding, I find out that my dad—who in my last message I basically begged to come to my wedding—is a cheating asshole.
All my life, I looked up to him, tried to win his approval, and I really want him to like Cody.
But why? What’s the point? He couldn’t even take his relationship seriously, so why should I care what he thinks about mine?
My mom scoffs, sighs, and picks up her glass from the table before taking a big sip and continuing. “Mind you, if your soon-to-be husband ever tells you he’s going on a business trip, pack your bags and start running because every man who says that is a liar.”
A sick feeling rises inside me. I don’t know if I want to vomit or chug a whole glass of wine, and ultimately decide on the latter. I reach over for my glass of wine, taking a big sip before telling her the truth.
“Cody goes on business trips all the time. It’s part of his job.”
Upon hearing that, my mother almost chokes on her drink. This conversation with me might just be the end of her—of both of us. “On business trips all the time?! And you have a prenup?! My dear boy, what on earth are you doing?! Are you in an open relationship?”
I curse internally, my stomach twisting. I trust Cody, and I don’t want to be led to believe that my fiancé is a cheater, especially the day before my wedding. I don’t want to be in this conversation.
“I most certainly am not. But Cody’s not like Dad.”
“All men are the same,” she replies, brushing me off. But then, as if she only just remembered who she’s talking to, she smiles at me. “Except you, of course, sweetie. You’re different. Which is why I’m not entirely sure how I feel about this wedding.”
I try to push my conflicting feelings down and remind myself I know Cody, whereas she doesn’t.
“It doesn’t matter how you feel. All that matters is how I feel. I trust and love him; we’re not like you. I got the prenup because I want to protect us both from what happened to you and Dad. If things go wrong between us—which I doubt—I don’t want to be the one who ruins his life. Or him mine.”
“But you deserve so much more! You’re so sweet and smart, and you deserve to be treated like a princess.”
Princess. Funny she should say that; it’s what Cody calls me all the time, and hearing her say that calms me down.
“I am. Even with the prenup, he shares things with me, buys me stuff, and pays bills unasked. Besides, I have plans for myself. If things go how I want them to, I’ll eventually be richer than he is.”
My mom’s mouth opens and closes again. She stares at me for a long time before saying something that only sounds like she’s accepting it. “Alright, it’s your life. I’ll pray you won’t end up like I did with your dad.”
I sigh. “I’m not you, Mom, and this is about me and my wedding day. Which you have to support, or you can’t be there.”
This time, she seems to give up. “Alright, fine. We’ll see how it goes. For now, let’s watch a movie or something.”
I quickly agree, happy for any excuse not to have to talk anymore.
But as the night progresses, my nerves and irritation only grow.
On the one hand, I can’t wait until this day is over, but then again .
. . tomorrow’s my wedding day. And between the stress my mother has caused me to have, not knowing if I’ll have a wedding cake, and the insecurity about whether my dad will show up, I can’t find it in myself to be excited about the day ahead.