Page 60 of How to Ruin a Wedding

She reaches over and grabs my hand in hers. “Ever since he was a kid, he’s tried to be perfect. At first, I think he was worried I wouldn’t want him since he wasn’t technically mine, so he cooked and cleaned and barely made a sound because he thought if he was invisible, I wouldn’t want to kick him out.”

A habit created from fear. I recognize it. I know what it’s like to live that way. And maybe that’s why he feels so familiar, like someone who’s been carrying too much for too long, just like me.

Imagining the child version of Anders feeling that way, running around trying to be perfect, filled with worries no child should have, makes my chest ache. Even in the short time I’ve been around him, I can see it clearly. Even when I’ve been unreasonable or overly emotional, he’s just taken it in stride and maneuvered the conversation, easing my worry like it was second nature.

“You understand,” Bethany says to me, “my worry that he’ll be taken advantage of. I know he’s this strong man, and he’d hate that I’m speaking this way about him. But you’re something new, unfamiliar, and I want to make sure that this is real for you, because I guarantee it is to Anders.”

You’re wrong.So incredibly wrong, but of course, I cannot speak those words here to her. I wonder if she’ll stay by Anders’s side when he comes up with whatever breakup story after I finish up here. Or will she continue this quiet worry, unable to voice concerns to Anders directly, and building up anxiety?

I wish that I could be here to ease her worry when she does.

But that’s impossible, and I shouldn’t care about it anyway. But I do. I can’t lie to myself about it. Already I care about Bethany, and Olive, and Valerie. Even if it’s been a short time getting to know them, they’ve treated me well enough, and at the end of the day, they’re just people who love their family members so deeply that it hurts.

And that’s something I understand fully.

So I say something I know to be true, even if this thing between Anders and me is fake. Maybe not the attraction, but the real relationship, of course, is something that’ll never happen.

I squeeze her hand. “I’m never going to hurt Anders.”

“Thank you.” She squeezes back. “Now, it’s getting a little too heavy here. Olive, give it to Lucy.”

“Huh?”

Olive dips her hand into a bag beside her, then drops a tiny white box in front of me.

“Open it,” they say in unison when I freeze.

I do, and within it is the lily necklace I fell in love with at the market. My heart feels like it’s been squeezed tightly, like a wet rag, and wrung dry. “No,” I say. “You didn’t have to get me this.”

“I didn’t have to, but I certainly wanted to,” Bethany answers. “I wish you and my son a long and happy relationship.”

Oh no.The guilt running through me intensifies, almost burns as the emotion passes through my body. It’s not that I didn’t think Anders’s family would be excited to see him seemingly enjoying his time with someone new.

It just didn’t occur to me that the possibility of them placing that happiness on me would makemehappy too.

And I have no right to be.

Not just because this whole thing with Anders is a lie, though that’s reason enough. But because sometimes, in a small voice, I question if down the line, I deserve a place beside anyone at all.

I’ve spent most of my life being the one who held everything together. My value was always tied to what I could do for someone else. That was my role: the responsible one, the strong one, the provider. And I was good at it.

But I’ve accomplished so little lately, at least by the standards I set for myself. I’m not sure I even have anything worth sharing with someone else, let alone this family who cares for each other deeply and easily and has no financial struggles of their own.

So when Bethany looks at me like I’m the kind of woman her son deserves, when Olive and Valerie smile at me like I belong here, it does something to me. Something warm and scary.

Because under different circumstances, I would want to accept their acceptance of me.

I want to believe that kindness like this could be meant for me, that I’m worth it, but what do I have to show for it? What about me is worthy of being loved when my life is such a mess? WhenI’msuch a current mess.

I come up with nothing, and I shut the box gently.

17.

Bethany and Olive honk the horn as they drive off, leaving me alone when I reach the front door of Anders’s place. I let myself in with the key he gave me, the necklace hanging around my neck, heavy as a weight, and head to the living room.

When he hears me approach, Anders attempts to get up from the long corner of the couch but stops midway, pressing his hand over his face. “You’re back,” he says, his voice strained.

My pace quickens, and I drop my gift bag on the coffee table and stand by him. “Are you okay?”