Chapter 4

The flowers and private lounge cost more than three months of my mortgage payments. Brooke had chosen them. Mark had approved them. Now he was waiting for me to pay. "I’ll cover what I agreed to," I said. "Not this." His hand stayed extended, expecting the paper back with a promise attached. "Don’t punish Luke over a dance." Behind him, my son came into the hallway. "Are we canceling things now?" he asked. "Your father can explain what he agreed to." Luke looked at the bill, then at me. "We’re three weeks out, Mom." He sounded as though I had created the expense. I handed the paper to Mark before I could do what I had always done—find a way to make the problem disappear. Luke sighed. "Fine. Can you at least bring the bracelet tomorrow?" "What bracelet?" "Grandma’s pearls. For Emma." My hand closed around my purse strap. After Luke proposed, I had shown Emma the pearl bracelet my mother left me. I had promised to fasten it around her wrist on her wedding morning. She had hugged me. Luke had been standing beside us. "Why do you need it tomorrow?" "Brooke wants to have everything ready for the getting-ready pictures." "Everything ready for what?" He glanced toward the ballroom. "She’s going to help Emma put it on. It would mean a lot to her." I stared at him. The music had barely stopped, and already there was something else he wanted me to surrender. "That was supposed to be my gift to her." "It still is. Emma knows it’s from you." "Then why can’t I give it to her?" Luke rubbed his face. "Brooke doesn’t have children, Mom. You’ve had me for twenty-four years. Can’t you let her have this?" For twenty-four years, I had counted his birthdays as gifts. He was counting them as things I had already received. I thought of the bracelet in its little velvet box, waiting in my drawer. I had taken it out twice this week just to imagine it on Emma’s wrist. "No," I said. "I’ll give it to Emma myself." Mark stepped closer. "Enough. You don’t have to decide every detail today. But tomorrow, we need to be on the same page." I looked at him. "Emma’s parents need to hear that we separated before Brooke and I got together." "You want me to lie?" "We need to keep this from becoming the whole wedding." Luke moved into my line of sight. "Emma’s already asking questions because you told her you and Dad weren’t separated." "We weren’t." "I know what you said. I’m asking you to help me." His voice softened on the last sentence. He had used that voice when he needed collecting late at night, when he had forgotten a deadline, when he knew I would come. I could still feel myself wanting to answer it. "You want me to tell her I was wrong?" "Just explain it in a way that doesn’t make everyone look terrible." I looked from him to his father. Neither of them seemed ashamed of asking. "I’m going home." Mark called after me, but I kept walking. In the car, my phone showed a voicemail from the attorney’s office I had contacted yesterday. I called back before I could lose my nerve. During the consultation, I said very little about money. Mostly, I asked whether I had to stay in the house while I decided what came next. By late afternoon, I had signed the engagement agreement by email and booked a furnished apartment for a month. At home, I packed my work clothes, documents, and medication. I placed the bracelet box inside my bag. In the closet, my dress for Luke’s wedding hung beside Mark’s empty suit hanger. I sat on the bed and cried. I still wanted to see my son get married. I still wanted to help Emma with her bracelet. Leaving did not make me stop wanting those things. It meant I could no longer keep paying for them with whatever they asked me to swallow. Before midnight, I emailed Luke and the planner a simple account of what I had paid and what I had promised. The remaining decisions went back to him. Then I carried my bags to the car. The next morning, Mark texted. Where are your clothes? I told him I had moved out. When he called, I let it ring. Near noon, Luke asked how soon I would reach the hotel. I’m not coming to lunch. His reply arrived immediately. Mom, please. Her parents are here. A moment later, he called. "Just talk to them," he whispered. "Please don’t make this worse." I heard a chair scrape. Then Emma’s mother spoke. "Claire, Luke told us you and Mark separated some time ago, and that you’re comfortable with Brooke attending as his partner. Is that correct?" "Mom," Luke added quickly, "everyone can hear you." He still believed that would make me protect him. I took the phone from my ear and switched on the speaker.