Chapter 10
Ten
Becca
Mama made good on her word. All the vendors have been cancelled.
I personally called each and every person on the guest list.
Surprisingly, most people were very kind about it.
And most surprisingly, people wanted to talk to me.
Mama’s Aunt Linda up in Richmond, Virginia, for example, had a hard time figuring out who was calling in the first place, but then once she did, she’d said, “No offense, honey, but to be honest with you, these days I’m all about cancelling.
Oh, I’d never be so rude as to turn down a wedding invitation if I had no plans in the first place.
Your mama and I were just raised that way.
But nowadays, I’d just as soon spend any given Saturday in June with my grandbabies.
It’s so sweet of you to call personally.
You must have your mama’s manners. I hope everything works out the way you want it to. ”
Aside from Linda not clearly understanding what was actually happening, it was nice.
And so it went. It took well into Saturday night.
In the end, it sort of gave me a strange bit of hope that people do get over these things. And that most people do not judge folks about these kinds of things at all.
Most of the people on the list, upon hearing we were still planning to get married within the next couple of years, wished us well and told us to keep the gift. Only a small handful of my father’s business associates requested that we return the gifts for a chargeback on their credit cards.
I let Quincy know when the phone calls were done. She then turned around and started planning.
Now, Nico and I are spending our Sunday morning standing in the return line at the high-end department store in the city where Mama did our wedding registry, with our tower of boxes: crystal candy dishes, silver serving trays, and ornate china.
“This is absurd,” I hiss as we wait for the clerk to fetch a manager. “There’s no way we’re getting store credit for all of this.”
“You’re right. We should let the baby play with a gravy boat instead of getting a crib,” Nico whispers, making me laugh and prompting me to nudge him in the ribs.
By the time the returns are processed, Nico and I realize not only do we have enough for a crib, but also a stroller and car seat combo, as well as enough clothes to get through most of this kid’s toddler years.
Nico immediately grabs a buggy and heads toward the baby section. I put a hand on his arm. “Wait. We should wait. Until the second trimester, at least.”
“But if we get it all right now, then it’s done, and we can work on other stuff.”
I study his face for a moment. “What other stuff?”
“Things.”
“Does this have to do with your wedding gift?”
“No. Yes.”
“Nico. You have to tell me.”
“That will ruin the surprise!”’
I sigh. “Fine. But generally, people wait until the second trimester to announce that a baby is on the way. Just in case of, you know, bad news. It’s good to wait, in case of miscarriage.”
Judging by the look on his face, my sweet Nico had not thought that that was a possibility. Bless his heart.
“Okay,” he says, looking like he just got the wind knocked out of him. “You’re right. We should wait. Shit, I’m sorry, Becca. I just got so excited.”
And I love him for that.
This right here, this is how I know I’m with the right person.
Whether or not we have a piece of paper that says we’re married. He’s mine. I’m his. That’s that.
The next day at work, I wait until lunchtime to break the news to my boss. Or tell her the good news, depending on how you look at it.
“Leela, can I talk to you for a minute?” I say, knocking on her office door.
She looks up from her research and waves me in, looking slightly frazzled. “Have a seat, I’m just making a list of names for Angie to call and schedule depositions for the Murphy case.”
“This won’t take long,” I reply, hovering in front of her desk.
“Oh shit, you’re not quitting, are you?”
“No, no. Not quitting.”
“Thank god,” she says, pushing back from her desk and taking a long drink from her water tumbler. “Hey. Are you still sick? You look a little pale,” she asks, her face concerned.
I shake my head. “No. But I wanted to let you know I’ll be right back to work the weekend after the 26th.”
Her mouth is about to form a question, but I keep going. “In fact, if you want me to come in that weekend of the 26th, just say the word, and I’ll be here.”
Leela leans forward and studies me like a specimen. Or a lunatic. Obviously, she hasn’t heard. If this law firm were in Songbird Ridge and not Black Mountain, North Carolina, she’d have heard within five minutes.
“And…your wedding?” She braces herself.
“Cancelled.”
Her face falls. “Oh. I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“It’s fine.”
“Babe, you look like you’re going to faint. Sit down.”
I do as she says and feel like I’m under a microscope with the way she’s staring at me.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Talking to my boss about my personal family drama is about the last thing I want to do. But I do it anyway. Leela has an almost supernatural ability to extract information from people. Probably what makes her an excellent lawyer.
I tell her everything, including the drama over the dress, all the wedding details, the disagreement with Mama.
I tell her about the fight at the dress fitting and how everything came to a head when the dress she wanted me to wear didn’t fit.
And then I tell her we’ve decided to wait to get married until after the baby is born.
“I’m sorry, did you say ‘baby’?”
I nod. “So, whenever you need me, I’ll be here. I am a wage earner, not a salaried employee, so if you got overtime, put me in for it. We’re going to need the money.”
Leela leans back in her chair and stares at me for a minute. “What about the two-week cruise vacation?”
Sheepishly, I tell her, “I may have exaggerated about that. That was also a gift from my parents and, well, poof. That’s also gone. Good thing my mother bought travel insurance. Almost like she was half-expecting a last-minute cancellation.”
Leela blinks at me. “Well, shit. That’s a kick in the teeth.”
I shrug. “It is what it is.”
“Becca, I want you to book yourself a vacation at the beach. Two weeks. I want you gone. And I don’t wanna hear from you until you get back.”
“But…”
“Look, I already scheduled temporary help during your vacation. The leave is already approved. I’m telling you, get on the app, book a house at the beach, and have yourself a babymoon. You deserve it.”
I’m so stunned I don’t know what to say, but I clear out of her office before I start blubbering.
At my desk, I grab my phone to text Nico and see that he’s sent a message.
Nico
Did you get my note?
Blushing and scrambling, I open the zipper on my little soft-sided cooler bag. Inside, indeed, there is a note. It’s folded into the shape of the paper footballs the boys used to flick around in school.
“Nico, what did you do?” I mutter quietly.
Suddenly, I unfold the note, and my warm cheeks grow hot instantly.
It reads, “If she calls today, don’t answer. I’m proud of you.”