“We’re Getting Married”
A few weeks later, they showed up together, like some twisted united front.
I opened the door and saw them standing there, hand in hand.
Diane’s voice was too cheerful. “Sweetheart, we wanted to talk to you about… moving forward.”
Aaron held out a manila envelope.
“We want to make this official,” he said softly. “We didn’t want to hurt you, but we love each other. We’re getting married.”
I stared at them, stunned by their audacity. My mother wore pearls and perfume—my perfume, actually.
“You’re serious,” I said.
“Yes,” Diane said quickly, her fake smile stretched tight. “It’s better this way, honey. We can all find happiness. You’ll understand when you meet someone new.”
Aaron reached for my hand. “No hard feelings?”
I smiled. Slowly. “None at all,” I said. “If this is what you want, go ahead.”
