Lovestruck Forever (8 page)

“Well,
that’s something I look forward to seeing on our wedding day,”
he said, winking at her.

“Speaking
of the wedding…” I took a deep breath, shoring up my
courage. “Thomas and I started to make some plans last night.”

“Thank
God,” Maria said, plopping into a seat across from us on the
other side of the table. “We’ve been wondering when you
were going to get a move on it.”

I
scowled at her. “We didn’t want to plan anything until
Mama was feeling better.”

My
mother patted my hand. “I don’t want you putting your
life on hold for me, mija. I’m fine!”

“I
know, Mama. You’re doing so well. That’s why we felt
comfortable thinking about our plans now.”

“So
when are you thinking?” Maria asked, pulling out her phone.
“Because Daddy already had me call the hall and get a list of
available dates. We have a tentative hold placed for a few weekends.”

“Wait…what?”

She
looked at me like I was slow. “The hall. Daddy put holds on a
few dates to make sure they’d be able to accommodate us when
you guys finally make up your mind about when to have the darn
thing.”

My
palms were starting to feel damp. I rubbed them across the hem of my
dress, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “He booked the
hall?”

She
shook her head. “He didn’t book it. He put a deposit down
with a hold for a few dates.”

My
head was spinning. I couldn’t believe they had already gone
ahead and done this, without even talking to me. “What dates?”

She
peered at her phone. “A Saturday in the fall—October, I
think. And one in January. Then the last weekend in May. We figured
that would cover us for every season.” She paused, apparently
noticing my expression. “Unless you wanted a summer wedding? We
didn’t think you would want to wait that long.”

I
had no idea how to respond to any of this. I could feel Thomas’s
gaze on me, waiting for me to say something, to tell her that I
didn’t even know if we wanted to get married here. But I felt
too shocked, too overwhelmed by their interference.

“Are
you okay?” my mother asked, apparently realizing that I was
less than happy about these developments. “If you don’t
want to have the reception at the hall, that’s your choice.”
She patted my knee under the table. “Daddy and I just wanted to
make sure you had your options.”

I
shook my head, mutely. “I just…I don’t know, Mom.
I had no idea you guys were making plans already. Thomas and I—”

“What’s
wrong with the hall?” Maria interrupted, her eyes narrowed.
“It’s the only place big enough for all of us that won’t
bankrupt Daddy. Besides, it’s in the family.”

“There’s
nothing wrong with the hall, Maria—” I began, but she
plowed right ahead.

“And
it’s close to the church.” Her eyes narrowed further.
“You are planning to get married at the church, aren’t
you?”

I
heard Thomas take a deep breath beside me, about to come to my rescue
and respond for me. I placed a warning hand on his arm—I had
just caught sight of my mother’s expression, the way her entire
face fell at the mere idea that I might not get married in the church
my family had attended since long before I was born.

“We
haven’t planned anything yet, Maria,” I said, conscious
of the edge in my voice. “We only got as far as picking a
season.”

Her
face relaxed, as did my mother’s, and I immediately felt a
surge of guilt for not being honest. It would have been one thing to
have the conversation alone with my mom, but add in what I was sure
would be an outburst from Maria, and I just didn’t have the
nerve for it.

“What
season?” Maria asked.

I
swallowed, feeling cowardly. “We thought October.”

My
mother sighed happily. “I knew you would want an autumn
ceremony. You always loved the colors in the fall.” Were those
tears in her eyes? “Oh, Lizzie, it will be such a beautiful
wedding.”

“Mama—”
I reached out for her hand and she grabbed mine, laughing a little
shakily as she moved her other hand to her face to swipe at her eyes.

“I’m
sorry, mija. I’m just so happy that I’m here to see this
day. After everything that happened…I’m just glad I’m
still here, that’s all.”

I
felt tears in my own eyes, now. “Me, too, Mama.”

“October
doesn’t give us much time,” Maria murmured, punching on
her phone keys. “We’ll have to get moving right away.”

In
spite of the happiness in my mother’s face, my stomach
tightened. How had everything moved beyond my control so quickly? How
could I possibly tell my mom that I didn’t want to get married
here? I had no desire to be the cause of that disappointed expression
I’d seen a moment ago. And my dad—he had cared enough
about this wedding to go ahead and start planning already. He’d
put a deposit down, apparently planning to pay for the reception
himself. How could I throw that gift back in his face?

“We
should probably make an appointment with Margarita ASAP,” Maria
mused, now in full-on Maria Control Mode. “You know how long it
took to get our dresses done for Laura’s wedding.” She
smirked. “Of course, that might have more to do with Laura
gaining and losing the same ten pounds three times before the
wedding.”

I
spluttered. “Margarita?” The dressmaker had indeed made
our bridesmaid dresses for Laura’s and Maria’s weddings.
She’d also made my quince dress—the fuchsia nightmare
Thomas had taken such delight in making fun of. I wished I could say
my quince dress had been the polar opposite of the dresses we’d
had made for the weddings, but they were more similar than I wanted
to admit. That was the style Margarita designed—loud, tight,
big, and covered in beading. The exact opposite of what I would pick
for my bridesmaids to wear. I had a sudden image of Callie in one of
her dresses and would have laughed if it weren’t so real.

“Which
means you need to pick out your bridesmaids,” Maria went on,
oblivious to my silent horror. “It’s going to be tricky
with Laura’s baby bump. I’ll see if I can get us in next
week for the first consultation.”

“Wait,”
I finally managed to say. “Maria—”

She
looked at me, eyebrows raised. “There’s really not a lot
of time to wait, little sister. October is five months away. And
Laura won’t be much help with the baby coming at the end of
August.”

“I
know.” I took a deep breath. “I know there’s a lot
to do. But I’m not ready for dress fittings yet. I don’t
even know if I want to use Margarita.”

Maria
looked like she was about to argue, but my mother, mercifully,
stepped in. “You’re right, dear. You just set the date!
You and Thomas take some time to discuss what you’d like. We’ll
be ready to help when you’re ready.”

I
felt a rush of gratitude toward her. Maybe there was time to rein
this in after all. Maybe I could still sit down with my parents and
figure it all out, before Hurricane Maria took complete control and I
ended up walking down the aisle in fifty yards of tulle and beading.

“Better
get a move on,” Maria muttered, slipping her phone into her
pocket. “These things take time, Lizzie.”

I
stared down at the table, doing my best to ignore the feeling of
Thomas’s gaze boring into the side of my head. I couldn’t
look at him right now, couldn’t see the disappointment I was
sure would be in his eyes. He had spent the past year and a half
helping me work on standing up to my family. He’d been so proud
of the progress I’d made, always reminding me of how strong I
was. But now, when push came to shove, here I was, ready to give into
them all over again.

It
was several days before I was able to talk to Sofie about what had
happened at the party. Sarra, Meghan, and Carter were all staying in
town for a long weekend, keeping us busy. The Harpers, on the other
hand, were staying in the States for a full week. They spent the
first part of the week with us in Detroit before heading to New York
City to see the sights. “Might as well take the chance to see
some of the world while I can,” Anne had told me with a sigh.
“Heaven knows I’ll have a hard enough time getting that
old grump out of Britain again anytime soon.”

“I
heard that,” Gilbert called from the den where he and Thomas
were both reading the paper.

“I
know you did,” she called back. “Because you’re
spending this precious time abroad sitting around reading the paper,
just like you do at home.”

“A
man must stay up to date, Mum,” Thomas replied, and Anne and I
shared a good eye roll at their expense.

By
week’s end, however, they had moved on to New York, Bryony in
tow. Thomas had pulled some strings to get them excellent theater
seats, as well as the chance to see a taping of Letterman. Bryony was
convinced she’d meet a celebrity who would sweep her off her
feet, allowing her to live a fairy tale life in Manhattan. Thomas
called her silly, but I couldn’t help but think that was pretty
much what had happened with him and me. “You never know,”
I told her, winking before kissing her good bye. “I’ll
keep my fingers crossed for you.”

By
Friday morning, our company was gone and things were back to normal
at our house. Thomas had some promotional obligations to handle at
Jenner’s theater before the Friday night performance, so I made
plans to meet Sofie at her favorite coffee house near work, hoping
she wouldn’t mind too terribly if I spent most of the time
bitching about our family.

We
had barely sat down with our drinks before I launched into a long
monologue about their presumption in booking the hall and my complete
inability to tell them about our London plans.

I
paused to sigh, stirring my ice tea. “I don’t know why
I’m surprised, I should have been expecting it. But…I
don’t know. I guess I thought they would at least discuss it
with me, you know?”

Sofie
shook her head. “Why on earth would they discuss it with you?”
she asked, her voice uncharacteristically bitter. “Discussing
it with you would indicate that they gave a shit about anyone’s
ideas except their own.”

Wow.
Where had that come from? Sof and I had long been united in our
irritation at our family’s overbearing interference, but I
didn’t think I had ever heard her sound so…angry about
it. I remembered the way she had looked the week before when
discussing family, the tightness of her face. I had promised myself I
would talk to her about it after the party but had forgotten in favor
of stressing about my own issues.

“You
okay, Sof?” I slid my hand across the table so I could brush my
fingers over hers. The moment my skin made contact with hers, she
burst into tears, quickly pulling her hands back to cover her face.

“Sofie!”
I cried, aghast. “What’s wrong?”

She
merely shook her head, her face still covered, sobbing into her
hands.

I
jumped up from my seat to join her on her side of the table. “You’re
okay,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. I felt more than a
little freaked out. Sofie was not one for dramatic, emotional
displays—particularly not in public. I realized that we were
attracting quite a bit of attention, so I moved my chair, shielding
her from the curious eyes of our fellow patrons. “Just breathe,
Sof. I’m right here.”

Slowly,
her sobs quieted; her shaking shoulders stilled. I continued to rub
her back as she took deep breaths, swiping at the tears under her
eyes.

“Here.”
I reached across the table and grabbed a few napkins, passing them to
her. She took them, offering me a shaky smile in return.

“Sorry,
Lizzie,” she muttered, using the napkins to mop up her tears.
“I’m probably embarrassing you.”

“Don’t
be ridiculous.” I moved my hand from her back to her shoulder,
giving her a squeeze. “I’m not embarrassed, just worried.
Are you okay?”

I
figured she would laugh it off, make some excuses for her behavior,
and was further shocked when she welled up all over again. “No,
Lizzie,” she whispered. “I’m not okay. Not at all.”

“Sofie—”

She
waved her hands over her face. “Go back to your chair,”
she muttered. “I can’t tell you this with you sitting so
close.”

Feeling
nervous, and incredibly confused, I went back to my side of the table
and took my seat. “What the hell is going on, Sof?”

She
took two deep breaths, so big I could see her shoulders rise and
fall. Finally she looked up and met my gaze. “I’m
pregnant, Lizzie.”

I
stared at her, uncomprehendingly. Pregnant? But—

“Wait,
what?”

She
shook her head impatiently. “I’m not joking, that’s
for sure. I took about a dozen tests.” Her face crumpled a
little before smoothing out. “I was so sure it was a mistake.
Turns out it’s real—a nightmare, but a real one.”

I
felt completely lost for words. When we were little, Sofie and I had
mapped out our entire future together while sharing a sleeping bag in
her basement during one of our many sleepovers. I was going to be a
famous writer and marry a Mr. Darcy clone, and Sof planned to become
a paleontologist and travel the world looking for dinosaur bones with
Dr. Grant from
Jurassic
Park
. We figured we’d
have kids eventually, when we were done having fun. In none of the
scenarios we discussed did our future include children before
marriage—before even moving out of her parents’ house, in
Sofie’s case.

Oh
God. Her parents.

“Have
you told anyone?” I asked, almost afraid of the answer.

She
shook her head, a few stray tears slipping down her cheeks. “No.
I just took the tests this morning. I’ve…I’ve had
a feeling for a while, though. I think I was just in denial.”

“Shit,
Sofie. You should have told me.”

“Before
your party?” She made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a
sob. “Yeah, that would have been great. Happy engagement cuz,
sorry to drop this on you, but I’m knocked up and my parents
are going to kill me.” She shook her head. “Like I said,
a nightmare.”