Our Big White Lie

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Ava

“ I f the shower cake is this big,” my best friend, Tori, murmured to me, “I’m almost afraid to see the wedding cake.”

I smothered a laugh behind my hand. “I know, right? At least they won’t run out.”

“God, I hope not. Everyone will be in sugar comas by the end of the night.”

We both giggled.

“All right, you two.” Aunt Lacey pushed a stack of paper plates into my hands.

“Make yourselves useful.” She tried for a stern look of disapproval, but her eyes were sparkling.

And we really weren’t going for catty or mean; my cousin Ginny wasn’t over the top at all, and she was the furthest thing from a bridezilla.

Quite the contrary—the enormous sheet cake for her bridal shower had been the solution to her worrying herself sick that there wouldn’t be enough for everyone.

Nobody judged my aunt for paying extra for a bigger cake so her daughter could enjoy her shower instead of wringing her hands about all her guests being fed.

Still, the result had been a comically huge cake, which Tori and I were helping Lacey cut and serve to guests.

By the time we’d finished portioning out generous slices for all twenty-three people in attendance, there was still plenty left for everyone to have seconds.

Plus there was a second smaller cake for the three vegan guests, and they’d each be able to have seconds and still take a slice home.

Assuming anyone had room after the amazing lunch Ginny had cooked with her mom and two sisters.

Ginny’s guests would not go hungry, that was for sure.

Aunt Lacey helped us put the plates on cooking sheets, and we carried them out to the backyard where guests were enjoying drinks and sunshine.

After my second trip, I said to my aunt, “I’ll grab a tray in a minute, but let me take these to my mom and Nikki.”

“Oh! Good idea.” Her brow pinched. “Does your mom need anything? Is she comfortable out?—”

“I’m sure she’s fine.” I smiled as I picked up the two plates. “But I’ll ask.”

My aunt nodded, and I continued out to the deck.

Though most of the guests were out in the yard, my mom and sister-in-law were on the deck.

The latest round of chemo had left Mom horribly photosensitive, and as the afternoon sun had gotten more intense, she and Nikki had moved into the shade.

Truth be told, I think they also just needed a break from all the chatter and activity; Nikki was in that “so tired she’s almost hallucinating” stage of newborn parenting, and Mom got really overstimulated these days, too.

As I stepped out through the open sliding glass door, I caught their conversation.

“—just wish I’d get to see her as a bride,” Mom was saying.

“There’s still time,” Nikki assured her. “The treatments are going well, aren’t they?”

“They are. But…” Mom sighed, shaking her head. “Somehow I don’t think I’ll ever get to see her get married.”

“You never know. She’ll find someone.”

“Oh, I know she will. And I want her to find the person who makes her happy.” Another sigh. “There’s just a part of me that wishes I’d live long enough to see it. I got to see all of my boys marry, but I’ll never see my baby girl as a bride.”

My breath lodged in my throat. I stepped back into the house, careful not to make a sound because I didn’t want them to know I’d overheard.

I set the cake plates on the dining room table and rested a hand on the back of a chair to keep my balance. Closing my eyes, I took some slow, deep breaths.

My mom’s illness was hell for her, and it was death by a thousand cuts for all of us. It was constantly realizing there were things she couldn’t do anymore. Things she wouldn’t live long enough to see. Her treatments were keeping things under control, but we all knew how this would eventually end.

She’d mourned the fact that she wouldn’t see any of her grandbabies graduate high school.

She might not even see the oldest to middle school, and he was already in fourth grade.

Her oncologist was cautiously optimistic that she’d see Nikki’s baby’s first steps, but he wouldn’t make any predictions yet about seeing his first day of preschool.

And I’d known for a long time that she dreamed of one day being the mother of the bride. She’d never pressure me. She’d never want me to rush into getting married. But it was a dream of hers.

This was just the first moment I’d made the connection that being the mother of the bride was yet another dream she likely wouldn’t live to see come true.

Cancer was a cruel son of a bitch, and it seemed to revel in robbing her of as much joy as humanly possible before it inevitably took her away from us.

“Ava?” Tori’s voice broke through my thoughts, and her hand landed gently on my shoulder. “You okay? Do you need to sit down?”

I shook my head and swiped at my eyes, because of course I’d started tearing up. “I’m good.” I sniffed. “I’m fine.” The cake plates on the table caught my attention, and I reached for them. “I need to take these to Mom and Nikki before?—”

“Ava.” Tori squeezed my shoulder. “Look at me.”

I inhaled slowly, steeled myself, and turned to her. Immediately, her beautiful blue eyes widened with concern.

Before I could say anything, she whispered, “Oh, honey,” and pulled me into a hug I didn’t know I needed.

I sagged into her embrace and sighed, squeezing my eyes shut as I tried not to cry.

Tori would never judge me if I did—it wouldn’t be the first time she’d held me while I fell apart—but I didn’t want everyone else at the shower, least of all my mom, asking why my eyes and face were red.

After a moment, she stroked my hair and whispered, “Why don’t I take these to Nikki and your mom? You can stay in here and catch your breath.”

I nodded as I released her. “Thanks.”

She didn’t say another word—just grabbed the plates and headed out onto the deck. Behind me, I heard her cheerfully saying, “I brought you two some cake! Do you want a punch refill?”

Closing my eyes again, I rolled my suddenly tense shoulders and pushed out a ragged breath.

I had no idea how I’d have stayed on my feet through Mom’s illness without Tori.

Or made it through any number of tough times in my life without her.

And thank God she was a close family friend, too, so nobody ever batted an eye when she came with me to showers, parties, weddings, barbecues, or whatever.

“Of course she can come,” people always said when I asked. “Everyone knows that wherever one of you goes, so does the other.”

“When you say ‘bring a friend,’ do you mean a friend? Or do you mean Tori?”

“When are you two going to just admit you’re more than friends?”

Watching her now, I sighed. More than friends with a woman as amazing as her?

I should be so lucky.

As Tori chatted with my mom and sister-in-law, I moved back into the kitchen. Aunt Lacey wasn’t there, so she’d probably taken some more cake out to people. I leaned against the counter and tried to collect myself.

I didn’t blame Mom for the way she felt.

I didn’t blame her for feeling that way about it today while she was celebrating her niece’s upcoming wedding.

She had every right to grieve everything her awful disease had stolen from her.

It was just a stab in the heart every time she sadly let another piece go.

She’d almost had to miss my youngest brother’s wedding last summer because she’d been in the hospital with an infection.

By the skin of her teeth, she’d been able to go, but she’d been practically bedridden for days after.

And since I’d been single for the past three years without any prospects in sight, the chances of her coming to my wedding were slim to none.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

But short of running out, finding a girlfriend, and getting married on a whim…

There wasn’t a damn thing I could do to fix it.