Bring Me Back(12)

“I can’t believe you’re getting married,” Casey adds. “Who let us become adults?”

I turn, admiring the dress in the mirror. It’s gorgeous—everything I ever imagined for my wedding dress. The top comes up high, with thin tank-top straps, but the dress is fitted all over with a small train. The dress is covered in lace detailing and the back boasts a million tiny white buttons—okay, so not a million, but a lot.

“I don’t know,” I speak to Casey, “it’s pretty weird.”

I haven’t told her that Ben and I are trying to have a baby. We haven’t told his mom, either. I think we both would rather surprise everyone if it happens. When. When it happens. I’m doing my best to think positive.

“Hold still,” the seamstress admonishes me.

“Sorry.” I’m careful not to move.

She finishes marking the places that need adjusting and then I change out of the dress and back into my regular clothes.

When I walk back into the main room, Casey is frowning at her phone.

“Ugh, I just got a work email, I have to go.” She hugs me. “I’ll talk to you later. Bye.” She waves at Loraine as she passes.

I pick up my purse and Loraine waits for me by the door.

We step out into the cold winter air. We’d had a mild winter, until the last week or so when Jack Frost decided we needed arctic temperatures.

Loraine loops her arm through mine and we walk down the street.

“Would you want to get lunch?” she asks, nodding at a small bistro-type place across the street.

“Sure.” I shrug. “That’d be nice.”

We cross the street into the restaurant. It’s bigger than it looks from the outside—the interior expanding back instead of out. I’ve never been to this restaurant, but I’ve heard good things. I remember Chloe saying something about it. The walls are painted a dark shade of blue, and you’d think that would make the space seem too dark, but somehow it works. The floors are a dark wood and all the tables and chairs are in a similar color. There are splashes of golden yellow in paintings and vases used as decorations.

We’re seated almost immediately and handed menus in the same deep blue as the walls with the name of the restaurant spelled out on the front in a gold cursive.

“Fancy,” Loraine comments with a smile, looking around.

“It is,” I agree, perusing the menu. Luckily, it doesn’t appear to be outlandishly expensive.

Our waiter comes by for our drink order. I ask for water and Loraine requests a red wine.

I pick the dish I want—some fancy pasta that I have no hope of ever pronouncing—and set my menu aside.

“Thank you so much for being here today,” I tell Loraine. “It means a lot since my mom can’t be here.” My throat grows tight. I always imagined sharing these kinds of moments with my mom, but I know my parents are much happier in Florida.

“Of course, sweetie.” Loraine pats my hand where it rests on the table. “I love you like a daughter—and soon you’ll be a permanent part of the family.”

I smile. “It’s a bit surreal.”

“More like, it’s about time.” She snorts. “I’ve been waiting for you guys to get married since the first time Ben brought you home to meet me.”

“Really?” My heart warms. I hear so many horror stories about mother-in-laws not getting along with their daughter-in-laws. I’ve never had any animosity with Loraine, but me being—well, me—I’m always a bit nervous around her.

“Really.” She nods. “I know most mothers would probably be the complete opposite—not wanting to see their baby boy grow up and move on, but when I saw the way he was with you, I knew he’d found his other half, and I’ve been so incredibly thankful for that. I just want him to be happy and you make him happy.”

Tears pool in my eyes. I dam them back. I do not want to cry in the middle of a crowded restaurant. “He makes me happy too,” I tell her.

“I know.” She smiles. “And Blaire?” She waits for me to nod. “Happiness is the number one thing we should strive to have in life. Not money. Not houses or expensive cars. Happiness is true wealth.”

I absorb her words. They hold so much truth. I understand that nothing means anything if you’re miserable.

The waiter appears at our table with my water and Loraine’s wine and takes our order before disappearing again.

Loraine taps her red painted nails against her wine glass. “It’s funny,” she begins, staring down into her glass like it holds all the answers in the world, “how one minute you’re young with little children and then you blink and they’re grown. I always thought people were dumb for saying that—I mean, you have a child and they’re with you for the first eighteen or so years of their life, but they’re right. They’re gone in an instant.”

“Loraine—” I reach for her hand.

She shakes her head and sniffles. “I’m not sad—okay, maybe a little. I’m just telling you this because I assume you and Ben are going to have kids one day and…” She looks off to the side for a moment. “Things were bad between my husband and I, more times than not, and sometimes I look back and I feel like that overshadowed moments I should’ve been sharing with my kids. Not that I think you and Ben would be like us,” she hastens to add, “but work, and stress, can make you forget to stop and appreciate the little things. And trust me, when you get to be my age it’s the little things you remember the most.” A smile touches her lips. “Like this one day, the boys knew I had a rough day at work so while I was showering they made me dinner. It was only cereal, but they’d even gotten a flower from the yard and put it in a vase on the table.” She shakes her head. “And it’s one of my favorite memories of them now.”