“You look beautiful, Cindy.”
“So do you.”
She patted my cheek. “No lying on your wedding day, sweetheart.”
I took her hands.
They were warm, light, and restless.
“You look beautiful, Cindy.”
Before I could answer, she turned toward a mirror near the bridal suite door, then stopped. Her fingers rose to the edge of her scarf. They hovered there, fixing nothing.
Mason stepped in behind her.
“Nana, my beautiful girl.”
She turned.
His face softened in a way I had seen only around her.
They hovered there, fixing nothing.
“Walk me down the hall before the ceremony?”
She blinked. “Your mother will want that, dear.”
“Mom already got me into shoes that match. You’ve done enough damage.”
Maribel laughed.
A real one this time.
Small, but real.
“Walk me down the hall before the ceremony?”
***
The ceremony was perfect in the way expensive weddings are supposed to be perfect.
White roses. Crystal lights. A string quartet. Two hundred guests turning as I walked toward the man I loved.
Mason cried before I reached him.
I mouthed, “Pull yourself together.”
He mouthed back, “Never.”
“Pull yourself together.”
We exchanged vows.
We placed rings on each other’s fingers.
We walked back down the aisle to applause so loud it felt like the room had lifted us.
For the first time all week, I let myself believe the hard part was over.
Then, just before dinner, Mason took my hand and led me to the center of the ballroom.
I let myself believe the hard part was over.
The chatter softened.
At the head table, Maribel sat with her hands folded beside a dessert she had not touched. Her scarf was still perfectly tied.
Mason reached beneath the tablecloth and pulled out a small wooden box.
A few guests chuckled, expecting some playful surprise.
He opened it.
Her scarf was still perfectly tied.
Inside were two electric clippers.
The laughter thinned.
Someone said, “What are they doing?”
