the living room.”
I hadn’t seen my dad with this much energy or spark in months. I blinked at him before exhaling, then turned on my heel and made my way to the living room as ordered.
My dad came the other way, his chest heaving as he worked through whatever the hell he was thinking. My mom glared at me, her mouth pressed into a thin line. “How could you?” she asked, her voice soft, cracking.
“What? What is it about her? You saw what the press did with her. She used it for personal gain. I don’t know what kind of game she was playing, maybe looking for sponsorship deals or money or speaking deals. I don’t know. But her face was plastered everywhere, the perfect little wife who gave up her innocence for my brother. It was a circus around here at the end. Don’t you remember?”
My mother swallowed hard. My dad paced behind her before gently putting his hands on her shoulders.
“Annabelle Montgomery is our daughter-in-law,” my dad bit out, and I let out a breath.
“Maybe legally, but not in any other way.”
“You do not get to put your titles on her.”
I looked at my mother as she spoke but didn’t say anything. I had a feeling if I did, I would only dig myself in deeper. I didn’t understand why they defended her like this or what I could be missing.
“I thought you knew everything, but it seems you were so blinded by grief or anger or whatever the hell you think she did, that you missed some key aspects of what happened in those final moments. So, we’re going to tell you,” my mother said.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked, uneasy.
My dad patted my mother’s shoulder and then leaned down. “You rest, I’ll explain,” Dad said. He looked up at me, grief weighing heavily on his face. “When we knew Jonah wouldn’t have long, when we knew we were nearing the end, he said that he wanted one last thing. A hail Mary, he called it. He wanted to marry his best friend, to call her his bride, something he would never be able to do thanks to the disease riding his body.”
“I know that part,” I whispered.
“But do you know that Annabelle didn’t want to marry him or have any part of it? That she was afraid it would be too much for him?”
I shook my head, frowning. “No, I thought she egged him on.”
“You’re such an idiot,” my dad said, and my head shot up.
“I know what I saw.”
“You saw what she wanted you to see, the brave face she put on because she was losing her best friend. And she could have used another friend then, but you turned away from her because you were scared. And I get it. We did, too.” My dad let out a shaky breath, his eyes filling with tears. “We knew it was insane. That not everybody would understand. But it’s what he wanted, and when Annabelle saw your brother looking so happy at the thought of a wedding and some form of normalcy, she said yes. And she let herself become this other person who had to deal with the media and everything else because she needed to breathe. I only know a fraction of what she felt,” my father added.
“She wrapped herself in such a shell that we couldn’t break through. But she was strong for Jonah. For our son. Your brother. And she raised thousands of dollars for research for cystic fibrosis. Hundreds of thousands. She went viral before viral was a thing. She did the media coverage and everything because she couldn’t do anything else to help the boy she loved. So, yes, she became a minor local celebrity and a small spark on the national media circuit along with Jonah. And I still don’t know all of the emotions she experienced, but I do know that she didn’t want to do it. Maybe she hated every minute of it. Perhaps she didn’t mind it. Who are we to judge either way?”
“She said you asked her,” I whispered, trying to reconcile what I had felt before and what was going on now.
“Yes,” my mother said, her voice firm.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because Jonah wanted it. My baby boy was dying, and I needed to give him something. So we asked Annabelle to do something she didn’t really want to do because I didn’t know what else we had for him,” my mother whispered.