Assuming the natural progression of life, I always thought that my mother would be the one helping me plan a wedding someday.

But with her high-profile engagement and laissez-faire attitude about the grand event that would be her nuptials, I found myself pushing her along to pick out the noteworthy details. And some not-so-noteworthy details.

“Honestly, sweetheart, I could marry Bennett in the back garden of this place and call it a day. Just two rings, an ordained person, and I’d be happy as a clam. I already am. I don’t understand why everyone is interested in what thousand-dollar designer gown I’m going to wear.”

Mom slumps into her hands, samples of taffeta and napkin colors piling up over her head.

This is how she’s been about the entire wedding ever since the paparazzi attacked her viciously the first time we set foot on European soil. She simply followed the man she loved, and was being harassed and judged at every turn. I knew I was too, but Mom was bearing the brunt of it and I felt sad for her. It was supposed to be one of the happiest times of her life, and she was all but canceling the whole big shebang.

I had always been the one out of both of us who organized life in general. She made the real money and all of the property was in her name, but I paid the bills. I had a schedule set up for auto-withdrawals and direct deposits. When the cable or Internet went out, I called the company. If the electricity bill seemed too high, I was the one who argued with the idiots on the phone until they gave us a credit. I made the dentist appointments, I monitored when the car needed an oil change. Not that my mother wasn’t an adult, she was a fully capable woman who supported us. But I was also a part of the family, and I wanted to contribute in the way my brain best allowed me. Honestly, I enjoyed keeping the books, so to speak.

“Because you’re their fairy tale, Mom. You are the woman every little girl wants to be, getting swept off of her feet by the handsome prince.” I do a little flourish with my hands.

She looks up, tears threatening. I know how stressful this has been on her.

“Come on, look. You’re getting an all-expenses paid day to live out your wildest dreams. The world’s biggest names when it comes to catering, dresses, shoes, makeup … they all want to be a part of it. I know it’s tedious and every decision you make is scrutinized, but come on. Who cares what those people think?! You get to pick whatever you want, go as extravagant as you please. And then, at the end of the day, it will still be about two people who fell in love. So let’s do this, have fun with it!”

I put an extra sparkle in my smile to get her mood up. Finally, she sits up straight, some of that Randolph confidence filling out her slim form.

“Okay, you’re right. Gosh, how did I raise such an awesome kid?”

“It was all you, Mom. But I must say, I’m pretty fab.” I shrug like I just can’t help it.

She reaches over and puts her arm around my shoulder. “We are blessed, and I need to stop complaining about the gifts we’ve been handed because some people are arseholes.”

Her use of the British phrase makes me crack up, because she’s been working on her accent which is terrible.

“Yes, we are, now which color do you want these linens to be?”

We go through samples of everything from linens to dress fabric to flower colors and arrangements for the next half an hour. Mom actually seems excited about some of the choices, one of which includes a mini-Philly cheesesteak as an appetizer for the cocktail hour. We insisted on having some of our own culture and traditions included, and Bennett was nothing but supportive.

“So, how about the guest list?” Mom looks up as I’m scrolling through my phone looking at the options for tiaras that the royal jeweler sent to my email.

“What about it?” I’m distracted, so I don’t see or hear the hint in her expression.

“Did they give you a plus one?”

This makes me put my phone down. “Why would they give me a plus one? I’m going to be running around like crazy just keeping you calm and happy.”

Mom frowns. “It’s a day for you to enjoy and celebrate in as well, and if you really need to be doing those things for me, then it won’t be a good day. Plus, it looks like you might have a … friend that you’d like to celebrate the day with.”

Her expression is all coy and sneaky, and my apprehension rises. I don’t like where this is going at all. “Um, I barely have any friends here.”

“That’s not what it looked like at the regatta.” She sips her tea, her eyes sparking with curiosity.

I roll my eyes, staring down at my own tea. One of the waitstaff brought it in, something they did every afternoon regardless of whether we asked for it or not. I was actually starting to get used to it, and the act of afternoon tea was calming.

Except for right now. “Asher and I are not friends, Mom. I just … know him from class.”

She makes a sound that says she’s not convinced. “That was not a boy who looked like he was just ‘in your class.’ He’s interested in you, honey. And he’s cute, like really cute. That makes me a cougar or something, but I say it in the most non-weird way possible. Maybe it’s time that you let yourself have a little fun. I also sound like the worst parent in the world suggesting that, but you live your life more responsibly than most forty year olds I know. You need to go a little crazy.”

I can’t help but snort out a laugh. “Who would have thought this would ever be a normal mother-daughter conversation that we would have?”

But her words do hit me in a part of my heart that feels so unexplored, it is basically another planet. For the thousandth time since I’ve moved here and started at Winston, I question why I haven’t ventured outside of my safe little intellectual bubble.

Mom leans over, taking a hold of my hand. “We are not the normal kind of people. Look at us.”

She points to the ballroom we sit in, the one placed right in the middle of Kensington Palace. You know, the place that we live.

“Maybe you’re right … but I’m not saying yes to a plus one.”

Mom puts on her singsong voice. “But you’re thinking about it!”

She was right. I was thinking about it.