“It wasn’t your idea, but it sure didn’t stop you from giving it to me,” she said, giving him a deadpan expression.
James opened and closed his mouth, unable to come up with an appropriate response.
“You’re allowing your parents to control our lives, your mother specifically, and you can’t even see it.” She shook her head in disappointment and turned her back to him. “They’re controlling your life, James,” she stated.
“That’s not true, Rory. I love you, and I’m marrying you. No matter what, I’ll always choose to marry you,” James spoke softly.
Rory whirled to look at him directly. “The fact that, that is the only thing you’re able to say you’re in control of, is both sad and frustrating to me.”
James’ blue eyes widened.
“Lenora has been wrecking our wedding plans with her own ideas, and you’ve done nothing to stop it. Did you know that she called insisting that I had to have orange at my wedding even though it didn’t match the theme? She wants me to have an eight-tier cake even though I told her four tiers was how high I was willing to go, and don’t get me started on the flowers.” Rory huffed, folding her arms over her chest as the memory of her mother-in-law’s bullish antics riled her. “The only thing left for her to do is take over the designing of the invitations and choosing who makes it onto the guestlist.”
James’ eyes shuttered before they opened to stare back at her, determination in their blue depths. “If you don’t like the changes she’s making, all you have to say is, no.”
Rory favored him with an angry glint her eye. “It’s like you’ve not been listening to a single word I have been saying. Your mother doesn’t like me. Do you want her to hate me more? Because that’s what’ll happen if I choose not to agree with her ideas.”
“Rory,” James started, the weariness in his voice telling her he was not in agreement with her statement. “Mom doesn’t hate you. She’s just…careful. She has…” James looked away from her.
“She has what?” Rory pressed.
“She has doubts that we will last,” he finished after a few seconds of silence.
Rory felt as if she’d been sucker punched in the gut. “Judging by the way you are reluctant to see what she has been doing to me and call her out on it, hurts so much. But the catalyst to all of this is the fact that you brought home a prenup and now stand before me defending her— it’s clear to me that you agree with what she’s doing.”
“Rory, that’s not wh—”
“You know what, James? I’m tired, and it’s evident that this is going nowhere. When it comes to a decision between your mother and me, I will never win because as much as you have been saying how much I matter to you, I matter less than her, and I’m the woman you’re supposed to be getting ready to spend the rest of your life with,” she argued, her voice cracking from the overwhelming hurt of the realization in her words caused. She felt a sole tear roll down her cheek.
James opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand, stopping him. “I just need to be alone right now,” she spoke in finality.
“I’ll sleep in the guest bedroom then,” James replied after some time of staring at Rory, who refused to look back at him.
The moment the door closed after his exit, Rory’s breath caught in her throat, then she felt the rush of tears spill over like the hoover dam. What was supposed to be shaping up to be the happiest moment of her life was instead heading toward what could only be labeled a disaster. Turning to the bed, she slowly slid into it and hugged a pillow to her chest as she screamed her frustration into the plush sound absorber.
The pinging of her phone caused her to raise her head to look for it. Noticing the device on the bedside table, she reached over and grabbed it. It was a text from her father’s lawyer letting her know that the funds would be released to her hopefully sooner than the expected date. Hopefully, she would get it by Christmas.
Relief washed over her but it was quickly replaced by sadness once more. She hadn’t shared that bit of news with James yet. Now she wasn’t sure she wanted to tell him about the money; she wasn’t even sure there would be a wedding come December 23rd. Tears welled up in her eyes before flowing once more. She pulled the pillow to her face, muffling her cries.
The next morning James was gone before she was up. A wave of disappointment washed over her that he hadn’t stayed and tried to work out their problems. Tamping down the emotion, she willed herself to have a great day at work. She would, after all, be seeing her lovely students who always managed to cheer her up by being their loving, authentic selves.
After getting ready, she filled her travel mug with coffee and grabbed an apple to go.
“You’re doing great, Peter. Keep up the good work.”
The little boy beamed up at her, revealing the empty space where his two front teeth once were.
“What about mine, Miss Hamilton?”
Rory turned to the little girl with pigtails whose expectant brown eyes stared back at her as she held up her painting for review.
“That is well done, Chelsea. Good job,” she complimented the little girl, earning a toothy smile from her also. It caused her own lips to turn up in a warm smile.
So far, the day had been going great. Her students were doing exceptionally well, and it made her heart swell with pride.
“All right, children, as soon as you’re done, please show Miss McCallister or me what you’ve done.”
For the next half hour, her students completed their artwork and eagerly showed it, reveling in the praises they received.
