“No,” Colin said. “You were protecting your ego.”
Her mouth opened. “You’re choosing her over your own mother?”
“I’m choosing decency.” He looked toward the ushers. “Please escort my mother out.”
Linda looked around like someone would save her. Nobody did.
As the ushers took her by the arms, she snapped, “You will regret this.”
The doors shut behind her.
Colin turned to me, then to the skirt on the table. He touched the torn fabric with the gentlest expression I had ever seen on his face.
The doors shut behind her.
Advertisement
“I’m so sorry.” Then he faced the guests. “My future wife’s mother raised her with love and sacrifice. That deserves respect. What happened today was cruel, and it will not be tolerated.”
Tears ran down my face.
He took my hand. “If you’re still willing, I’d really like to marry you today.”
I smiled. “I think my mom would like that.”
The officiant cleared his throat. “Then perhaps we begin again.”
So we did.
Tears ran down my face.
Advertisement
And when I stood there saying my vows, the torn quilt rested across the altar between us.
It stayed there like proof.
Proof that love made by tired hands in a cold house could survive years.
Proof that grief could be carried without shame.
Proof that the people who really loved me understood exactly what mattered.
It stayed there like proof.
Leave a Comment