Chapter 4 - The Mother He Blamed
I found Marjorie Mercer near the reception room, helping a server rescue a centerpiece that had begun to lean.
She smiled when she saw me.
“Paige. You’re lovely.”
“May we speak privately?”
Her smile faded.
“Of course.”
Laurel gave us an empty dressing room.
I closed the door and stood with my hands clasped so tightly my fingers hurt.
“Did you ask Colin to remove June from the ceremony?”
Marjorie blinked.
“What?”
“Did you tell him you would be uncomfortable with her walking beside me?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
“Did you object to her being in the family photographs?”
Her face changed.
“Paige, what has happened?”
I told her.
Not every detail. Enough.
The dress. The schedule. The explanation about traditional relatives who could not bear seeing evidence that I had lived a life before her son.
Marjorie sat down slowly.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she reached into her handbag.
“I need to show you something.”
She opened a message on her phone and handed it to me.
It was from Colin, sent Monday evening.
June is feeling overwhelmed by the attention. Paige and I think she’ll be happier sitting out the ceremony. Please don’t bring it up with her—she’s self-conscious.
Below it was Marjorie’s reply.
Whatever makes her comfortable. Please remind her she is loved and welcome.
I read the exchange.
Then I sat beside her.
“He used you.”
Her mouth trembled.
“Yes.”
For a moment, she looked older than she had at the rehearsal dinner.
“I asked him last month what I should give June,” she said. “A little family welcome gift. He told me not to make a fuss.”
She looked down at her hands.
“I thought I was respecting your wishes.”
I was too tired to be polite about things that mattered.
“Did you ever hear him talk about her as if she was in the way?”
Marjorie took time before answering.
“He complained once that you never traveled spontaneously.”
“Because I have a child.”
“I told him that.”
“Did he understand?”
“I wanted to believe he did.”
We sat with that.
Then Marjorie straightened.
“What have you decided?”
“I canceled the wedding.”
She closed her eyes briefly.
When she opened them, they were wet.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know this hurts you.”
“It does,” she said. “That doesn’t make your decision wrong.”
The relief was so sudden I nearly cried.
I had prepared for anger, bargaining, accusations about the money.
I had not prepared for someone from his family to tell the truth plainly.
A knock sounded.
Colin entered before either of us answered.
“Mother, can you please give us a minute?”
“No,” Marjorie said.
He stopped.
“This has become a misunderstanding.”
She held up her phone.
“You told me June wanted to sit out.”
“She was nervous.”
“Did she say that?”
He looked at me.
“Paige is very emotional right now.”
Marjorie stood.
“Do not explain her to me. Answer the question.”
He exhaled sharply.
“No. Not exactly.”
“And you told June I objected?”
“I said some family members might—”
“Which ones?”
Silence.
I could see him searching for a version of events that left him misunderstood rather than responsible.
At last, he said, “I was trying to avoid drama.”
Marjorie’s voice softened in a way that made every word clearer.
“You created it and asked a child to carry it quietly.”
Colin looked toward me.
“I love you.”
I thought about June’s bare wrist.
About how carefully she had removed the bracelet I gave her.
“Then you should have been able to tell me what you wanted,” I said. “You chose someone with less power because you thought she couldn’t refuse you.”
His face hardened.
“So this is it?”
“Yes.”
For a moment, he looked like a stranger.
Then he looked exactly like the man in the lounge again, annoyed by a plan he could no longer control.
He left without closing the door.
Marjorie took a long breath.
“May I apologize to June?”
“Not yet.”
She nodded immediately.
“When she wants to see me.”
“Yes.”
Back in the bridal suite, June stood as soon as I entered.
“Are we late?”
I crossed to her.
“The wedding isn’t happening.”
Her face crumpled.
“I’m sorry.”
I knelt in front of her.
“No, sweetheart. Listen carefully. I asked Colin questions. He told me things that showed me he wasn’t ready to be the husband or stepfather we needed.”
“But I told.”
“Yes,” I said, holding her hands. “You told me the truth.”
May you like
Then I said it again, because I knew once would not be enough.
“You helped me understand. You did not do this.”
