We had spent months insisting that our families were too different to become one.
Yet here we were, standing outside a restaurant, arguing over imaginary grandchildren exactly the way we had argued over wedding flowers.
I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye.
“Oh, Betty.”
“What?”
“You and I are going to drive each other crazy for the rest of our lives.”
She smiled.
“That seems highly likely.”
I looked through the window again.
Kira had rested her head briefly against Marcus’s shoulder.
Betty followed my gaze.
Her expression softened.
“Look at them.”
“I know.”
“They really are happy.”
“Yes.”
Betty was quiet for a moment.
Then she said something neither of us had been willing to say before.
“Maybe we were wrong.”
I nodded.
“We were.”
Not maybe.
Not partially.
Not because the children had misunderstood us.
We were wrong.
Part 7 — The Wedding
The following morning, I stood outside Kira’s hotel room with my hand raised to knock.
For several seconds, I couldn’t do it.
What if she didn’t want to see me?
What if I had waited too long?
Then the door opened.
A bridesmaid appeared.
“Oh. Mrs. Parker.”
“Is Kira here?”
She hesitated.
Then Kira’s voice came from inside.
“It’s okay. Let her in.”
I walked inside.
My daughter was sitting in front of a mirror.
Her hair was partially finished.
Her wedding dress hung nearby.
For a moment, all I could see was the little girl who used to sit on my bathroom counter while I brushed her hair.
She looked at me through the mirror.
Neither of us spoke.
Finally, I said, “I’m sorry.”
Kira lowered her eyes.
I moved closer.
“No excuses.”
She looked at me again.
“I was wrong.”
My voice shook.
“I told myself I was protecting you, but the truth is that I was protecting my own expectations.”
Her eyes filled.
“I imagined your future so many times that when you chose something different, I treated your choice like a threat.”
I swallowed.
“Marcus didn’t do anything to deserve that. Neither did his parents.”
Kira stood.
“I needed you, Mom.”
“I know.”
“That’s why it hurt so much.”
“I know.”
My own tears came then.
“I can’t change what I did. But if you’ll let me, I want to do better.”
She searched my face for a long moment.
Then she asked, “Do you accept Marcus?”
“Yes.”
The answer surprised me with how easy it felt.
