girl to be saying such a horrible thing to her mother. Let Tennyson help? Only if Melanie were half-dead. As God as her witness, at the very least, this wedding would be tasteful and elegant.
“It will be exactly how you want it, but you have to indulge me a little. I’m not sure your brother will ever get married. His hygiene is going to have to improve, and he’ll have to convince a girl to tie the knot before he takes off his shoes,” Melanie said.
“True. He’s pretty disgusting.” Emma walked around the table and stood, staring at the white roses. “I can’t believe we’re doing this. Married. Wow.”
Hope burgeoned inside Melanie. “You know you don’t have to get married right now. I mean, you could live together. I don’t think it will cause a stir.”
She didn’t want her daughter living with Andrew, but it would be better than marrying Tennyson’s son. Taking vows was a major commitment . . . and the marriage brought Tennyson with it. Her daughter shacking up sounded better than a legal union.
Emma’s dreamy expression faded. “I don’t care if it does. I want to marry Andrew. I’ve wanted to marry him since our third date, when I knew he was the one. We’re adults and ready to make this commitment now . . . not when the rest of the world thinks we’re old enough.”
Something in her daughter’s words caused a niggle of . . . something. There was something more there. Was Andrew pushing this? Or did Emma think it would bind him to her at a time that would be difficult for her? The first year of med school was no joke. Emma would be snowed under with work and study. Maybe she was afraid Andrew would lose interest and find other pastures. “I know you believe that, sweetheart, but he’s the first guy you’ve ever been serious about. Sometimes you have to kiss a lot of frogs, you know?”
Melanie knew it was the wrong thing to say the minute the words left her lips. Emma’s expression narrowed. “So you’re saying your first love can’t be your only love? Because you’ve always said Daddy was your first love.”
Mic drop.
“Yes, but I dated other guys before your father.”
“Yeah, and I did, too. I mean, no one super official, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have some experience. You’re acting like I just met Andrew. We’ve been dating for two and a half years. We’re committed to each other and in love, so please stop trying to talk me out of marrying him.” Her gaze hardened, and Melanie was reminded of how incredibly stubborn her child could be.
“I’m sorry. I’m worried about you overloading yourself.”
Emma exhaled heavily. “You’re always worried. So why would me waiting to get married change anything about that?”
“What’s all this fussing on a day when my beautiful granddaughter is announcing her good fortune?” Anne Brevard asked, gliding into the room, her hands outstretched toward Emma. One thing she could say about her mother—she loved her grandchildren and rarely found fault with them.
“Gee Ma,” Emma said, her face changing from irritation to pleasure. “You look so pretty.”
Melanie’s mother preened and gave her granddaughter’s hands a squeeze. “Thank you, and you look lovely as well. Are you ready for your big night?”
“I’m excited. It’s going to be a bit of a whirlwind, but I feel like I have to do this now. I was just saying as much to Mother,” Emma said, glancing over at Melanie with an emphatic look.
“I understand. Your grandfather and I married when he was in his last year of medical college. We were so young, but we were very determined.” Her mother dropped Emma’s hands and turned to Melanie. “Daughter, you look nice. Very much like a mother of the bride.”
What did that mean?
Melanie glanced down at the dress she’d found at Nordstrom. Okay, yes, it was a bit staid, but it camouflaged her rounded belly—stupid premenopause and chocolate chip cookie dough—and covered her appropriately from neck to knee. And it had been on sale. Melanie hated paying full price, so she’d snapped it up when it fit her without gaping or looking like a furniture cover. It was a size 12, something she knew her mother would disapprove of. Anne had always managed to stay in single-digit sizes and had been very vocal on the subject. The woman definitely had standards, and that was the issue sometimes. “Thank you, Mother.”