Chapter 31 #3
“Mom,” I say, scooting closer. “I don’t regret any of the time we spent together over the years. It’s just that I’m starting to realize how much of my life has been driven by performing and seeking the approval of everyone else but myself.”
When Nate said as much during our fight, the harsh words sliced through me like a knife. But looking around at all these trophies, I can admit that there was some element of truth in them. Doing pageants for so long, I did get used to letting other people determine my value.
Mom’s lips part, as if that never once occurred to her.
“You were always so driven, Nikki, even at eleven years old. I thought I was helping you succeed at the thing you wanted. I never wanted you to do any of that for me.” Her voice lowers.
“And honey…” She puts a hand on my cheek.
“I know you’re a little… burned out. You’ve been running so hard toward your goals, and that can take a toll. ”
“I did it to myself,” I say quickly, placing my hand on top of hers—realizing as I say it that it’s true.
“I pushed myself. I wanted to win. I wanted to be the best and to be loved by everyone. I still do. I’m just…
trying to figure out why.” Now it’s my turn for my voice to crack.
“And how to give myself a little break.”
Mom nods, tears brimming now. She reaches for me, and I fold into her, careful of her hair, careful of the veil draped over my arm. She squeezes me tight—so tight I can feel her heartbeat.
After a moment, she pulls back. “I’m so proud of you,” she says, voice thick. “You know that, right? I always have been. Nothing to do with a trophy.” She cups my cheek. “Just—you.”
“I know, Mom,” I whisper, my voice hoarse with the shock of hearing those words. Because maybe a small part of me actually didn’t know it. Until now.
She stands, but sways slightly, one hand braced on a storage bin.
“Mom?” I rise with her. “Are you okay?”
“Oh—yes, I’m fine.” She waves it off, though her face has gone a shade paler. “It’s so hot and dusty up here. And we’re going to sweat off all this makeup if we’re not careful!” She laughs, but it’s thin. “Come on. Let’s get downstairs.”
I put the veil back in its box and steady her as we navigate toward the ladder. She insists she’s fine—really, sugar, stop fussing—but she grips my elbow a little harder than usual.
We make it down the ladder, step by careful step.
As we reach the bottom, she presses a hand to her temple.
“Mom?” I whisper. “You sure you’re okay? It was really stuffy up there. Maybe you need some water or a quick rest…”
She musters a smile. “Sugar, I am not going to be the one to ruin this perfect day. Let’s keep moving.”
THERE’S NOT A CLOUD in sight as we all head outside for photographs—Mrs. Musgrove graciously gave us the number for her niece who is getting into wedding photography and was pumped for the last-minute opportunity.
I take in the yard, the way it’s been transformed with all the elements of a simple yet lovely backyard wedding, the lake sparkling in the distance.
In the warm, late-afternoon sun, the gazebo practically glows, sunlight dancing through the trellises, and the gardens and tomato plants flanking it are a lush green from all that rain yesterday.
I’ve never seen it look this good, and I can’t help but think Meema would’ve been thrilled.
We all hang back as Cara and Cooper do a first look. Cooper shifts from side to side as Cara walks up behind him. She taps him on the shoulder, and when he turns to look at her, it’s with such tender reverence, my eyes prick with tears again.
After, the photographer starts to herd us all onto the gazebo steps that Nate has spent so much time perfecting. They’re firm under my feet, and I know there’s no risk of my heel catching in crumbling wood.
Out of the corner of my eye, I let myself look at Nate.
I’ve never seen him in anything more formal than a T-shirt.
The cut of the jacket makes his shoulders look even broader.
The crispness of the collar makes his jawline look even sharper.
And the navy of the suit makes his eyes flash an even brighter blue than usual.
I finger my necklace and let out a sigh that has Linney narrowing her eyes at me again.
He looks almost too good in formal wear. Like a different person.
And I remember what he said to me outside of LuAnne’s after he’d seen me in that white gown. I feel the same way now. He almost looks like someone who deserves a Happily Ever After too. If only he believed in them.
Mom stands beside me, hands clasped, chin up—but I can see the color draining from her face again. She swallows, trying to steady herself.
“Mom?” I murmur. “They want us over here for the group sho—”
“Everybody, smile!” the photographer says, and my mom turns to take her place, but I see her eyes flutter and I’m looking at her, not the photographer, as she sucks in a sharp breath and then—without warning—her body goes slack and she collapses to the grass.