My Son’s Fiancée Asked Me Not to Wear Blue to Their Wedding – Then I Saw What Her Mother Was Wearing
Grant sat down heavily.
I walked over and put a hand on his shoulder.
He covered my hand with his.
For once, he did not apologize.
He did not tell me everything was fine.
He just sat there.
The reception never recovered its cheerful rhythm.
People spoke quietly. Some left early.
Vanessa and Grant spent nearly an hour outside talking alone.
I did not follow them.
That was their conversation to have.
When Grant finally came back, his tie was gone.
His eyes were swollen.
But his shoulders looked different.
Lighter.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“I’m going home with you tonight.”
I nodded.
“Okay.”
Vanessa stood several feet behind him.
She looked exhausted.
“We’re going to take some time apart,” she said.
There was no sharpness in her voice now.
Grant looked at her.
“We’ll talk tomorrow.”
She nodded.
Then something happened that I did not expect.
Vanessa walked toward me.
“I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t family.”
I studied her face.
“I am family.”
“I know.”
“Make sure you remember that if you and Grant decide to fix this.”
She nodded.
“I will.”
I did not hug her.
Not yet.
Some wounds need more than one apology.
Grant and I left together.
In the parking lot, he stopped beside my car and looked back at the reception hall.
“You think I ruined my wedding?”
I unlocked the door.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“I think you finally showed up for it.”
His eyes filled again.
