The Wedding That Drew the Line
The line that stuck with me came a few months before the wedding. We were all sitting in Mom’s kitchen, planning Chelsea’s big day—or rather, she was planning while we funded it.
She spoke of florals and signature drinks as if negotiating peace between nations.
Mom nodded as though witnessing history.
I, ever the practical one, offered to help with spreadsheets and budgeting.
Mom smiled sweetly. “Oh, honey, you’ve done enough. You’re so responsible. We’re just happy to finally have grandchildren soon.”
Finally.
As if my eleven-year-old daughter, Stella, didn’t exist.
I set down my coffee, heat rising up my neck.
“You do have a grandchild,” I said softly.
Mom blinked, her tone calm but sharp. “Of course, dear. But you know what I mean.”
And I did. I knew exactly what she meant.
Still, guilt made me generous.
When Chelsea hinted her wedding budget was tight, I offered to help.
She lit up. “You’re a lifesaver, Andrea!”
I gave her one of my credit cards, telling her to use it for small things—flowers, decorations, emergencies.
“Nothing big,” I warned.
She promised. And I believed her.
