Page 9 of The Wedding Favor

She knew how much I hated my birthday. Every year as a kid, I had hoped and prayed and yearned for that one time when my dad would come knocking. But that never happened. Dad was in the wind most of the time. This day always reminded me that I’d never been enough to keep him around.

Mae had memories of our parents together, a few of them happy even. But since they’d broken up right after I was born, personal memories of our whole family could fit in my hand. If I was honest, I resented that. I knew he’d made a lot of bad decisions, knew he’d hurt my mom, left us when she was most vulnerable, but I’d never been given the chance to know my father.

Mom put her arm around my shoulders and pulled me into her side. I pretended to resist, but my heart wasn’t in it. I could use a Mom hug. She was the one person in this whole world I knew would always love me even when I was a bratty teenager or a sobbing mess after my break-up with Aidan. Growing up, she drilled into my head this one saying: “There’s nothing you can say or do to make me love you more or less.” And she meant it.

“Cheer up, sweetie. I brought home all the leftover cake.”

Inside, I pumped my fist. Outside, I shrugged. “Cool.”

“I saw Aidan. That was a… surprise,” she said, choosing her words carefully.

“Yep. Definitely a surprise.” I gave her a small smile. “It was nice to see him.”

“How is he?” she asked, a slight edge to her voice. I’d never shared much about my relationship with Aidan both pre- and post-break-up, but Mom had figured out something was off. It probably helped that I lived with her, and she’d been around for the days I pretended everything was fine only to cry alone in my bedroom at night. She also saw the other things—our late-night phone calls, the pink roses he’d had delivered for Valentine’s Day after we’d already broken up, the random cards he’d send for no reason, the too-long hugs, how he still found ways to touch me when we were together. She’d never said it out loud, but I got the feeling she wasn’t exactly an Aidan fan.

“Seems happy.” I picked a piece of fuzz off my pajama shorts. “They moved the wedding up to July.”

She pulled back to look at me, her eyes widened in shock. “That’s next month.”

“It sure is.”

Mom had an otherworldly ability to look directly into my soul. I was a good liar, but not good enough to fool Lucy Sampson. “I don’t think you should go.”

“It’ll be fine.” Another long look. I wanted to squirm, but I doubled down on looking unbothered.

Mom sighed. “I don’t understand why you do this to yourself.”

“Do what?”

“Act like nothing matters.”

I knew what she meant. If nothing mattered, nothing could hurt me. I’d been hurt enough—an absent father, Grammie’s passing, Mom’s stroke, and Aidan. He’d been the last straw. The one thing I couldn’t seem to come back from. So now, indifference protected me like a shield.

“Aidan’s getting married. I’m very happy for him.”

“You hid in a closet to avoid him at your own birthday party.”

“I wasn’t hiding,” I said indignantly. “I needed a break from all the excitement. It was great to see Aidan. And Missy, too. I don’t get to see them enough.”

Mom shook her head. “One day, Iris, you’re going to have to admit what you’re really feeling inside.”

“I am not. Take it back. I’m exactly what you see.” It wasn’t that I didn’t want to admit my feelings. It was that I couldn’t. Feelings made me vulnerable.

“Sure. I believe you.”

“As you should. Would I lie to you?”

“I’m going to ignore that.” Mom’s face said she remembered all the times she’d caught me in lies. “But speaking of your birthday, I haven’t told the story yet.”

I groaned. Loudly. With feeling.

She tucked me back into her side. “I remember the day you were born like it was yesterday.”

“Do we have to do this every year?”

“Yes, we do. See, you decided to come three weeks early. I was at⁠—”

I cut in. “The tire shop.”