“Your mother has a house.”
“Not like yours.”
It slipped out before he could catch it. The whole room heard it. My mom closed her eyes for a second, as if confirming something she had known all along.
I felt the wedding dress turn into dead weight. The lace, the veil, the white lilies—it all became a costume. I was standing in the middle of my own reception, newly married, realizing that the man who cried when he saw me walk down the aisle wasn’t overwhelmed by love. He was celebrating what he thought he had just won.
“How long have you known?” I asked.
Mark looked around. “This isn’t the place.”
“Yes, it is. Your mother chose the microphone. Now you use it.”
The DJ cut the music entirely. The head waiter froze by the coffee station. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Hamptons venue, the corporate lights of the city glowed, reflecting a world where deals were made, and love was often just an afterthought.
“Sophie, calm down,” Mark said.
“Don’t tell me to calm down.”
“My mother misspoke.”
“Your mother laid out a plan.”
He didn’t answer. Once again, his silence was crueler than a confession…
My mom took my hand. “Let’s go, honey.”
