Chapter 16
I was cold. Shivering, teeth chattering cold as the makeup artist stroked concealer over the circles under my eyes. I hadn’t slept well the last couple of nights, and it showed.
The physical cold of the building had nothing on the ice I felt inside.
I hated the control he had over my emotions, but Targen Jones-Sidorov was breaking my heart.
My defense was to ice him out. He probably didn’t notice, the way he’d been staying away from me.
After we got back Thursday, he’d disappeared.
He was gone all Friday, too. He slipped into bed with me silently the last two nights and didn’t even touch me.
He’d woken me early this morning by shaking my shoulder before gruffly telling me to get up and get showered.
A surprisingly quiet Juvie had driven me to a small, Russian Orthodox church.
After opening the door for me, he’d grabbed me in a one-armed hug.
“You know it’s gon’ be okay, right?” he asked.
I’d given him a half smile. The moment I walked in, I was swept up by a team there to get me ready for this joke of a wedding.
The sleeveless, cowl-neck dress I’d taken into the dressing room was there.
So was a seamstress who hemmed and hawed and pinned and tucked before demanding I step out of the dress so she could do last minute alterations.
I was handed over to a hairstylist, who mostly let my natural spirals do their thing, pulling them back in front to accommodate the little veiled hat I’d be wearing.
I needed to ask about her products, though, because my coils were shiny and bouncing around my shoulders.
And now the makeup… Closing my eyes, I fought back tears to keep from ruining this man’s work.
I had lied to Targen. I wanted my parents.
I wanted my grandparents. I wanted my quirky sister and my bossy cousins.
I wanted my life. Sighing heavily, I rubbed my hands over my goose bumped arms.
“You okay?” the makeup artist asked softly.
I nodded as I heard a door open behind me. He looked up, then paused mid-brushstroke.
“She looks gorgeous, but we got it. Thank you.”
My eyes popped open at the sound of my cousin Emory’s authoritative voice. The mirror in front of me reflected the angry and irritated faces of women who loved me.
“You really thought you was gon’ just elope? Really?” Mama snapped before striding over to lightly smack my upper arm.
“Ma—” I started, then shook my head, fighting to swallow myriad emotions.
“I already got onto that boy. You wanna explain yourself, Theory Grace?” Granny Nette asked, one hand on her hip.
There was something about the familiarity of their poses, their tones. I took a deep breath…
…And burst out crying.
It took a lot of hugs and reassurances from my mother and grandmother to get me calmed down enough to be able to even talk to them. I was so glad to see them, to be in their warm supportive presence. Granny Nette clucked and cooed over me.
“It’s your nerves. It will be okay,” she murmured once I swore I wanted this wedding.
I felt compelled to go along with the Sidorovs’ lie, tired of my family being in jeopardy because of my poor choices. I sat quietly as Emory removed my now-botched makeup job, avoiding my sister Epiphany’s knowing gaze. The fact that she wasn’t saying whatever she thought aloud surprised me.
“How did y’all find out?” I finally inquired.
“Targen came a couple of weeks ago to ask for your hand in marriage, asked us to keep it a secret. I thought we would plan a wedding after the proposal. I didn’t know your fast ass was going to try to elope.
Thank God Targen felt bad,” Mama fussed, her side eye strong.
“He came last night talking about he thought you needed family here. Obviously, he was right.”
I frowned. I had told him the exact opposite, and he still went…
“Where’s Daddy?” I asked suddenly, shaking my head, trying to clear it.
“Out there with PawPaw and the rest of them. He’s just waiting to find out if he’s escorting you down the aisle or blowing this shit up,” my cousin Everly said.
My eyes widened. “The rest of them?”
Emory kissed her teeth. “I told Prime if we didn’t see you before this wedding, I was gon’ have a permanent headache every night. You know he wasn’t gon’ let me come without him.”
“And Real sticking close to me because he knows his secret-keeping ass is in trouble,” Everly added.
“So, the babies are here?” I asked, a genuine smile curving my lips.
“Yep, those little hellions here. Lanthe and Mama out there spoiling them even worse. But now, to the important stuff, like how I’m clearly your maid of honor while Pip, Em, and Ev gotta fight over matron,” Hyacinth said smugly.
Emory scoffed. “I’m her best friend, so obviously—”
“And Real is Targen’s. We’d look so good escorting each other,” Everly argued before her sister could even finish.
“Excuse me, but are we gonna just ignore the fact that I’m not married?” Pip’s tone was light-hearted, but I didn’t miss the small frown marring her pretty face.
“That’s right; you not! You do such a good job playing the role, though,” teased Hyacinth.
“Don’t y’all start in the Lord’s house! Hy, you just as messy as yo’ daddy’s grandmama, Mae Della. Stayed her tail in the middle of something til the good Lord relieved her of her duties,” Granny fussed.
“Mama Nette!” my mother exclaimed, unsuccessfully hiding her smile.
“Chyle, I ain’t lying. Mae Della kept up so much confusion, you woulda sworn she was speaking calculus.
Anyway, I’m still a little upset with this girl of yours.
Bout to leave us out and miss one of my favorite traditions.
Now,” she continued, digging in her huge purse. “Here is your something old.”
She handed me a long, velvet box. I opened it and gasped at the beautiful heirloom bracelet. “Your grandfather’s mother gave it to me as my something new, many years ago. I want you to wear this in remembrance that you are never alone. You come from a line of strong, smart, supportive Black women.”
As I stared down at the gold bracelet with tiny diamonds throughout, I realized our family’s name was carved within the intricate design. My eyes filled with tears, which I tried to hold back.
Wrapping me up in her arms, Granny Nette whispered, “No man goes to the lengths he has gone through for someone he does not love.” With a kiss to my cheek, she stepped aside.
My mother then stepped up. “Theory Grace, I have your something new.”
She handed me a paper that was rolled and tied with a ribbon.
“What’s this, mama?” I asked as I untied the ribbon.
Opening it, I found two papers. The first had me gasping; it was a bank statement of an account with ten million dollars.
I frowned. My parents did not have that kind of money to give.
The second piece of paper was a list, dashed out in slashing, masculine writing.
Each line described some element of a house.
Recognizing it, I swallowed, my throat and eyes burning.
“The something new is the bank account your fiancé had us open when he visited. It’s to start building your vacation house on the farm. He said the list was what you wanted in your home,” Mama said softly.
It was exactly what I’d described to him one afternoon while we were sitting enjoying each other’s company back on the farm. He’d remembered perfectly…
“Damn, this nigga building you a house with your specifics down to each detail? Maybe I’ll keep my little something borrowed,” Emory stated.
“Emory Leigh! That mouth!” Granny Nette fussed.
“Like Prime didn’t do the same for her,” Hy mumbled.
Em flipped her off before arranging her face in a suitably apologetic expression.
“Sorry, Granny. Theory, here is your something borrowed, heffa. Remember I need it back,” she teased.
I unwrapped the gift to find a gold necklace and earring set. I recognized it as the one she’d worn when she married Prime. “Em, thank you so much!” I exclaimed. “It’s gorgeous.”
“I know, just make sure I get my stuff back,” she replied, laughing. “I want you to have something of mine while you’re standing up there reciting your vows.
Once Emory finished fastening the necklace and putting the earrings in, she grabbed my hand.
As we walked into the vestibule, my eyes watered once again.
There, on a small easel, was a portrait of all of the adult women in my family, taken two years ago.
The difference was it had been enlarged and reframed in a fancy blue frame.
It was a breathtaking picture, and I felt chills on my arms. Epiphany’s gaze landed on me.
Grabbing my hand, she simply stared into my eyes. For a moment, we needed no words.
“Theory Grace, this picture is your something blue. It’ll be removed after the wedding and taken to your house. It’s a reminder of the greatness from which you come,” my sister said softly before embracing me. “Everything is going to be just fine,” she whispered against my ear.
The tears I’d tried to hold at bay poured down my cheeks.
I simply stared at the picture, as Em attempted to get my face patted dry, drawing strength from the faces of the women who had raised me, loved me, nurtured me, and grown up with me.
Then, the strains of the piano began and each of them hugged me and left me with my father to wait.
In the dim light of the vestibule, the soft rustle of the wedding dress—the beautiful, cream confection that mocked the ugliness of my inner turmoil—swirled around my legs as I paced back and forth.
My father stood watching me, ready to be the strength I needed right now.
I stopped and stared at the double doors leading to the sanctuary, thinking about what would unfold when I crossed that threshold.
Targen was waiting for me behind those doors, playing every bit the part of a devoted, unbothered groom, while my heart and mind were about to explode with anxiety.