once. She did nothing but complain about how uncomfortable it was—how it looked to be made out of some middle-class house’s drapes. But she had to wear it once, because it was a gift from her husband. So I picked the most hideous thing in her closet, and that’s what she’s buried in—still wearing to this day,” she says with a content smile and a head nod.
I can’t hold back my laugh.
“I realize it was petty of me, but damn, did it feel good in the moment!” She lets out a long laugh now and I join in. “So, see, everything comes full circle and works itself out. I can only hope that we have a better relationship than I had with my mother-in-law, and that you respect my wishes.”
“After that, how could I not?” I laugh out.
“The point, dear, is that you will always be welcome in my home. Please don’t let one bad apple ruin your life for you. You two are good for each other. Don’t let anything get in the way of what you have.”
I nod, letting her know I’ve heard her words, then Matthew walks back to the patio and takes my hand in his.
“Are you all right?” he asks, leaning in like he doesn’t even care his grandmother is watching us so intently.
“I’m fine,” I promise.
“Are you sure? I’m sorry about my father. He’s always been an asshole.” He freezes like he’s just realized he’s done something he shouldn’t. “Sorry about the language, Gran.”
“Asshole is an understatement,” she replies, causing all of us to laugh.
The rest of dinner progresses without a hitch. We talk, laugh, eat, and drink expensive wine. By the time we leave, I feel almost giddy, and I’ve completely forgotten about our before-dinner drinks and the conversation that took place. Matthew and I load back up into the car and he starts the drive home. He seems tense, though, probably still annoyed by his father, so I want to break the ice.
“Did you know that your grandmother and great-grandmother didn’t get along?”
He looks over at me quickly. “No. Did she tell you that?”
I nod. “She said she didn’t come from money, so when she started seeing your grandfather, his family did not approve—they made her life hell, basically.”
“Huh,” he replies.
“She said they never did accept her. Instead, they switched from pulling stunts like your father did to just ignoring her altogether.”
He lets out a long breath. “I just hope that isn’t how our lives go.”
“She said that when she buried your great-grandmother, she put her in a dress she hated, with mismatched shoes to boot,” I laugh out the last bit and he joins in.
The cab of the car is no longer filled with thick tension. Now that it’s full of our laughter, everything else falls away.
“That does sound like my Gran. She’s feisty. Just like you.” He squeezes my hand.
We ride the rest of the way home in silence. I’m too lost in thought to think up something to talk about. I wonder if my life will be anything like his grandmother’s. Obviously, I won’t have to deal with his whole family hating me—just his father. But can I deal with that? Going to family parties and being treated like an outcast the whole time? Will every family event be filled with drama? Our wedding? The births of our children if we have any? Every Christmas, Thanksgiving, birthday party? Is Matthew worth that?
We make it home, and once we’re inside, we go directly to our rooms to get ready for bed. I take my time in removing my jewelry and showering, just wanting more time alone to think. I never thought Matthew and I would end up here: in love and ready to get married, with this father threatening to tear us apart at any moment.
I’m brushing my hair when I hear my bedroom door open. Matthew walks in shirtless, muscles flexing as he walks over to me. He steps up behind me and presses a kiss to my shoulder.
“What are you thinking about?”
I set my brush down and spin around to face him. “Your father,” I confess.
He shakes his head. “Don’t. Don’t give him any more energy than he deserves. Don’t let him tear us apart.” His hands find my hips and he pulls me closer. I rest my head against his chest. “He’s taken so much from me already. Don’t let him take you too,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to my head.
And that’s when I decide. He’s