Lydia
I TOOK A few days off from work to move into Marcus’s place, and everything is finally situated and put away. Part of me wanted to twitch with the lack of organization in his closet, but I told him he’d have to let me move things around, or risk losing me forever.
I’m getting my way.
Aside from living with my new fiancé, one of the other perks is that I get to actually decorate the place. Being in an apartment, I’m limited on what I could do. Plus, I didn’t want to invest in a place I knew wasn’t mine.
Mine.
It feels so strange to refer to Marcus’s house as if I have equal ownership here, but he made it clear to me on the first day that I’m to treat this as my home because now it is. I’m still getting used to the idea though.
If I thought things were good with Marcus before, they’re even better now. These last few days have been nothing short of amazing, and the only thing that goes through my mind is that this could be my life forever. He exhibits everything I could ever need or want in a man—in my partner. The smallest, darkest part of my brain is hoping it’s not short lived and doesn’t come crashing down.
I hear the front door open and automatically smile knowing he’s home.
“Hey, babe,” he greets me with his panty-melting smile.
“Hey, how was your day?”
He puts one hand on each armrest of the chair I’m sitting in and leans down to give me a kiss. “It was good, but it’s better now that I’m home,” he says against my lips.
“Meoooww.” We’re interrupted by my cat, Spartacus. You’re not allowed to come home and ignore him.
“Hey, you fluffy bastard,” Marcus greets as he bends down to pet Spartacus, who is rubbing against his legs.
“He has a name,” I say in fake annoyance. Marcus pretends to hate my cat and grumbles about him any chance he gets, but I know it’s all an act. When he doesn’t know I’m watching, I see him loving on Spartacus and letting him curl up in his lap. Sucker.
“Yeah, but I like fluffy bastard better.” Standing back up, he untucks his shirt and starts to unbutton it as he’s walking toward the kitchen. My mouth goes dry as I watch him like a voyeur. I honestly think he does it on purpose. He knows what that uniform and his body do to me. He’s a damn tease.
“Sooo.” He hesitates as he grabs a bottle of water from the fridge. His uneasy tone immediately catches my attention. “I have something I want to talk to you about, and I don’t want you to get mad.”
Uh oh. Whenever someone says don’t get mad, it’s pretty much guaranteed that you’re going to get mad. “What?” I ask cautiously.
With the front of his shirt wide open, he walks back to me and sits beside me. “I’m a bit of a traditionalist when it comes to big things, so I knew I wanted to ask for permission to marry you before I proposed.” He pauses to gauge my reaction, but all I do is stare at him with wide eyes. No, he didn’t. “So I got your dad’s number from your phone and gave him a call.”
My whole body tenses. “Why?” I’m trying hard to stifle my anger, but it’s clawing at my insides, begging to come out. He had no right to do this!
“Lydia.” He holds my hand. “I could see the pain in your eyes when you talked about them. I know your mother and father’s actions have hurt you, and if there’s anything I can do to take that away, I will. Plus, it just didn’t feel right. They’re your parents. They deserve to know.”
I shake my head and pull my hand away from him. “No, they don’t deserve shit. They turned their backs on me because I did something that was right for me. If they wanted to know what was going on with my life, they could’ve picked up the damn phone. They’ve lost that right.”
His expression softens and I can tell he’s trying to figure out how to handle me and the situation. “I understand where you’re—”
“No, you don’t get it. Why would you go behind my back and stick your nose in my business?” The more I think about it, the angrier I get. I need to do something to release some of this pent up hostility. Getting up, I pace back and forth.
“You are my business,” he states more firmly.
That gets my attention and my movements stop. Arching a brow I look him dead in the eye. “Oh, am I?”
His face tightens and he knows this is heading nowhere fast with that kind of attitude. “Look, just hear me out then you can be pissed all you want.” I gesture for him to continue with an agitated wave of my hand. “I talked to your dad a week before I proposed, so that’s been about what? Three weeks now? Anyway, he really wants to talk to you.”
Marcus only knows the highlights of what my parents said to me the last time I saw them. He doesn’t know the details. He doesn’t know that when I was at my lowest emotionally, my father slammed the door in my face and told me not to come back until I made better decisions with my life. There are moments when you just need your mom. It doesn’t matter if you’re two years old, or twenty-two years old, sometimes Mom is the only one that can make things right. Nothing compares to her comfort and soothing words. Despite my issues with her growing up, my instincts and desperation sent me running to her doorstep.
I’ve regretted it every day since.
Not only did she not give me the courtesy of coming to the door, but she made my dad do her dirty work and sent me away. I thought nothing could compare to the hurt of watching my fiancé fuck my best friend the week of my wedding. I was wrong. I was so wrong.
“I have nothing to say to him.” The emotion is absent from my tone.
“Well, that should make dinner tomorrow night nice and quiet then.”
“What?” My voice drops to a low, deadly tone.
“They’re coming over for dinner tomorrow night to celebrate our engagement.”
“Son of a bitch,” I mutter.
He holds up his hands in surrender, probably in preparation to be murdered because I could fucking kill him right now. “Just do this one thing for me, please.”
“Why are you so adamant about this?”
“Because family is important and no one’s is perfect. We all make mistakes and I think we need to give people the chance to right their wrongs. This dinner might not change anything, but what if it does? You need to open up and tell them the truth about the breakup and go from there.”
“But that’s insignificant. It shouldn’t matter why I ended things, they should have accepted it and loved me through it.”
“You’re absolutely right, babe. One hundred percent. I’m just asking you to try and then I’ll never bring them up again.”
I’m pissed. No, I’m beyond pissed, but despite my anger at what he’s done, I find myself spitting out, “Fine.”
He’s cautious in his approach, and he should be. Keeping a safe distance, he holds his arms out to hug me, testing the waters as he gets close. With wide eyes and drawn down mouth, he looks like he’s walking into a lion’s den. It’s enough to make me laugh to myself and break some of the anger and tension rolling off of me. With his arms securely around me, he kisses my head.
“I’ll be with you through the whole thing. I won’t let them hurt you again, okay?”
All I can do is nod. I don’t add that he’s too late because the damage has been done.
I’m a wreck.
A ball of nerves has taken up residence in my stomach and I think I might puke at any moment. I have rearranged the same bouquet sitting on our dining room table a hundred times, and I’ve fluffed our throw pillows about a thousand.
“Babe, why don’t you sit down? You’re starting to make me nervous.”
“You should have thought about that before you invited them over,” I bite back. When the doorbell rings, all I can do is stare at the front door, terrified to approach it.
Marcus comes up behind me and places his hands gently on my shoulders. “Want me to get it?” he asks in his low, deep timbre.
I nod. “Yeah.” I’m not ready to do this. Last night I had convinced myself that I’m not the one that should be worried. I’ve done nothing wrong and should feel completely at ease about tonight’s gathering. Apparently, I wasn’t convincing enough and my anxiety hit as soon as I woke up this morning.
They walk in and there are no pleasantries or welcoming hugs, just a room full of awkwardness. I can’t even bring myself to look at them at first, but when I do, I can’t tell if they seemed shocked or impressed. My mother looks around the house, surveying the place like a robber would his next heist. She’s judging right now and hasn’t been here for five minutes. She pays extra close attention to the living room, and I wonder if she can tell I decorated it.
“Mom, I want to show you something.” It’s hard to hold back my excitement, but I did it. My dreams are coming true and I finally did it.
“What’s that?” she asks, not even looking up at me.
“My first design.” I pull out the pictures I had taken of the finished product. It’s not fancy with it being a small office space, but I was thrilled my boss let me work on it since I hadn’t finished my degree yet. He said since I was only a few months away, I might as well get some hands-on experience in.
She glances at the pictures and rolls her eyes. “That’s fine and all, but you need to focus on being Seth’s support system. He needs a dedicated wife, not one that’s running around doing these silly hobbies that will amount to nothing.”
I was crushed. She didn’t believe in me or my goals. I honestly don’t know why I thought her reaction would be different. I haven’t brought up my work since.
“You guys want to have a seat?” Marcus asks, breaking me from my thoughts. He’s about to see this was a horrible idea. He does his best to keep the conversation going, but it’s pretty much pointless. There’s a dark cloud looming over all of us, and until it’s addressed, it’ll remain stiff and suffocating in here.
Without much fanfare, dinner is served and I couldn’t be more grateful for the bottle of wine sitting on my table than I am now. They’ve been here for thirty minutes, and we have yet to speak to each other. Poor Marcus is grasping at straws to relieve the tension, and I’m offering him no help. I’ve decided to make it my mission to see if I can go the entire meal without uttering a word.
Of course, even the best laid plans go to hell after a few glasses of wine, and that’s exactly what happens when I blurt out, “So, who wants to address the pink elephant in the room first?”
My mother and father freeze with their utensils in their hands as they share a glance. My mother dabs her mouth with a napkin and lays it down. “Yes, let’s talk about this wedding. I have to say, I was quite surprised when your father got off the phone with Marcus.” She smiles in his direction, but I see through it. She’s praying I go along with the façade that we’re this happy family and not bring to light the truth in front of Marcus.
I look at her, and I mean really look at her. Sitting before me is a woman who is so delusional she can’t see reality. She cares more about perception and appearances than getting down to the truth. Well, forget that. I’m done.
“No, Mother. I was referring to when you and Dad walked out of my life for ending things with Seth.” I stare holes into her face until she’s forced to look away. I hear Dad clear his throat, but I keep my focus on her and her alone.
“Lydia, we just wanted what was best for you and were afraid you were making a rash decision. Everyone is a little nervous before their wedding, and I didn’t want you to look back on your life with regret.”
“My only regret is I didn’t break up with him sooner considering he was having an affair with Kylie for several months before I found out.” My mother’s mouth drops open and for once, she’s speechless. “Oh, you didn’t know that, did you? And I know what you’re thinking,” I continue on quickly, “what kind of woman can’t hold on to her man? That’s what you’ve said before, right? Well, let me tell you. It’s the kind of woman who is too naïve to realize she’s with a complete asshole. One who’s willing to push the red flags to the back of her mind until she’s slapped in the face with it when she walks in on them screwing on her bathroom sink.”
Never in my life have I spoken to my mother like this. I normally stuff away my feelings to keep from upsetting her, but damn this feels good to get off my chest.
“But, you said it was cold feet, that you just couldn’t go through with it.” Her voice is feeble as she continues to look at me with a stunned expression.
“I told you that so you wouldn’t judge me. I was mortified by what happened, and the thought of you thinking I had done something to cause Seth to be unfaithful was more than I could handle at the moment.”
I turn my attention to my dad. “Do you remember when I came home a couple weeks later needing to talk?”
“Yeah,” my dad responds, unsure of where this is going.
My eyes well up with tears that I refuse to let spill over. “I needed you guys. Everything I knew was falling apart, and all I wanted was for you to hug me and tell me it would be okay. I came over that night to tell you guys the real reason I broke up with Seth, but you never gave me the chance.” I look down at my lap to break eye contact with my father as he looks at me with nothing but regret.
“Do you remember what you said to me on the front porch, Dad?” It’s hard to miss the pain wrapped around each word as I speak through the lump in my throat.
When I bring my eyes up to his, he shakes his head, but the truth is written all over his tired face.
“You told me that you and Mom couldn’t be there for me until I made better decisions. You guys treated me like I committed a heinous crime or something.” This time my dad is the first to look away, shame oozing off of him. “Better decisions,” I say to myself, thinking that it was actually the best decision.
“Well, we had no idea, Lydia,” my mom interjects, trying to deflect some of the blame.
“Would it have really mattered, Mother? All you heard when I called off the wedding was I wouldn’t be marrying a baseball star. Your reasons for being upset with me were shallow at best, disgusting at worst. Regardless of why I left, you should’ve been there for me, but you weren’t, and I’ll never forget that.”
“Oh, God, I had no idea, honey,” my mom says as she sniffs. I have no response for her. I don’t accept her ignorance as an okay for her actions. “Over the last two years, I’ve realized the error in my ways. I was wrong to say the things I said to you and I am so sorry. If I could do it all over again, I would. I just want you to be happy, and it seems you have a fine young man here to support and love you. I’m so grateful for Marcus because he’s given us the opportunity to communicate with each other. Even if you don’t accept my apology and never speak to me again, I’m thankful for today and glad you have him.”
The tears I’d been able to hold back run down my cheeks. I don’t bother wiping them away. This is the realest, most genuine conversation I think I’ve ever had with my mother. The pain of her words and actions are still there though. I realize this is a big step for her since she’s never been one to apologize, but that doesn’t erase years of judgment, creating self-doubt, and casting me away for things out of my control. I might be able to forgive her in the future, but I’ll never forget.
I look over at Marcus for the first time since I started speaking. There’s a fire in the depths of his eyes, but not of a sexual nature. It’s more of a look of pride and fierce protectiveness. Like he’s proud of me for getting everything out in the open and being strong through the majority of it.
Marcus must sense that I’m ready to move onto a different topic and changes the subject. I’m appreciative for it because my emotions can’t take much more. Everything is still tense. You can’t erase that much hurt and hostility over the course of one conversation. It’ll take time, and even then it may never be the same.
My parents get up to leave as soon as dinner is over, and I have to admit I’m grateful. “Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, Marcus,” my mother says. “Hopefully she’ll actually follow through with this wedding.”
I visibly deflate with her comment as years of subtle put-downs resurface. She just can’t resist, can she? She always has to get her dig in. My disappointment and sadness fuels the fire burning deep inside me. Now I’m just pissed. Everything she said was a bunch of bullshit. I’m about to tell her to get the hell out, but Marcus beats me to it.
“You don’t get to disrespect my fiancée in our home. Did you not hear a damn thing she said to you earlier?” His back tenses, leaning forward slightly in an aggressive manner.
“It was a joke,” she tries to defend.
“None of us are laughing.” They engage in a stare off and Marcus is the victor when my mom looks away. My dad stands there quietly like he’s done all evening. He’s so spineless; a puppet for my mom to control. He disgusts me almost as much as my mother because he’s an accessory. An accomplice. An enabler. He’s no better than her.
“You can see yourselves out.” By his tone, I can tell he’s every bit as appalled by them as I have been for the majority of my life.
Once we hear the front door shut, Marcus holds me in his arms. “I’m so sorry, babe. I was trying to make it better.”
I let out a tired sigh. “It’s okay. You didn’t know.”
Holding my face in his hands, he looks down at me. “You are the strongest woman I’ve ever met. You’re nothing short of amazing, and I can’t believe I’m the one who gets to spend forever with you.”
“Just no more surprise guests, okay?”
“Deal. Want me to make it up to you?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.
“I thought you’d never ask.”