Eleven
That evening, Maddy’s mother arrived with champagne and a box of wedding magazines.
‘You sent the save-the-dates!’ her mother said proudly, hugging her tightly. ‘I told everyone you’d feel better once things were moving.’
Maddy smiled. ‘Yes. Things are… moving.’
They barely made it through the first pour of champagne before her mother said lightly, ‘Now that the greenhouse is sorted—’
Maddy felt the air change.
Adam cleared his throat. ‘Actually, about that.’
Her mother looked between them. ‘What about that?’
Adam leaned back in his chair, easy, almost amused. ‘Dad had a look at the place. He just thinks it’s a bit… trendy. A bit exposed. All that glass. He said modern weddings date quickly. He thinks we should go somewhere more traditional.’
‘More traditional?’ Maddy’s mother repeated.
‘We’ve decided not to go ahead with it,’ Adam said.
Because after sleeping on it, Adam was even more sure it wasn’t right.
He’d added that he was sorry, because he’d sent Maddy out on a fool’s errand.
He wanted to get more involved from now on, having realised he was being unreasonable, giving her carte blanche, only to take it away at the eleventh hour.
So, at least he knew what he’d done. Maddy decided it was petty not to be forgiving.
Her mother blinked. ‘But you loved the greenhouse,’ she said to Maddy.
Maddy swallowed. ‘Well, I’d love other places too.’
She could feel Eva beside her in her memory, the two of them walking the length of the greenhouse, light slanting through the panes, ivy curling around the beams. It had all felt so right.
Ah well. As Adam said, there were other places, other dates.
Adam shrugged, smiling as if this were a minor course correction. ‘Dad’s always at work people’s weddings. He knows more than me.’
Maddy let out a small sound that might have been a laugh. Embarrassment burned hot under her skin. But it was nothing next to the white-hot shame of being undermined in front of Eva. If Eva didn’t know what a wet wipe she was before, she certainly did now.
Her mother set her glass down more firmly than necessary. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘If it’s what you both want.’
Maddy nodded. ‘Yes. It’s fine. It’s probably for the best.’
The conversation moved on. Her mother flipped through the magazines, pointing out centrepieces and dress styles. Adam joined in enthusiastically, making jokes about cake towers and string quartets.
Maddy sat between them, nodding and laughing at appropriate intervals. Now and then, her phone buzzed with messages from friends letting her know that the save-the-date was in their hands.
At each buzz, Adam kissed Maddy’s temple as if to reassure her, as if nothing at all had been taken from her.
God, Maddy hoped she wouldn’t have to send out a second batch. Because she’d done what was asked. Hard as it was, she’d made a choice. She’d been proud of that.
But pride was now revoked.
Later, when everyone had gone to bed, Maddy stood alone in the kitchen. The box from the save-the-dates sat open on the counter, only a few cards remaining. She picked one up and traced her name with her finger. Maddy Kind.
The words felt both familiar and distant.
On the table lay the brochure from the greenhouse, its corners already soft from being handled. She popped it into the recycling and tried not to feel anything about the act.
Her phone buzzed again, a new email from Eva. She had another day set aside if they wanted to go on another venue hunt. She didn’t say anything about them cancelling the hold.
Maddy felt anger return. Adam had told her that he trusted her. He’d told her to pick. And she hadn’t even wanted to. But she had. And then, at the first raised eyebrow from his big-shot father, he had quietly taken a shit on Maddy’s choice.
She placed the last save-the-date back in the box and turned off the kitchen light.
Upstairs, Adam slept peacefully, one arm flung across her side of the bed. She slipped in beside him, careful not to wake him, and stared at the ceiling for a long time. She began the process of pushing down the anger. It didn’t take long. She was very good at it.