“May I have this dance with my daughter?” Mom asks, and Oliver nods, moving off to dance with Grandma. For the rest of the reception, we have fun, but Oliver and I never get a chance to talk until dinner arrives and we sit down. The tables have been rearranged, and Oliver and I have joined Mom, John, Roxy, and Grandma at the head table.
“You know, Oliver, you’re full of it,” Grandma says as the filet mignon is brought out. “I heard you tell Mindy that you can’t dance. You move like a cat.”
“Well, what I said was I can’t twerk as well as Brad,” Oliver says with a grin. “That’s not a lie. I didn’t say I couldn’t dance.”
“Yeah, well, you keep it up, and I’m going to have to drag you out there to see if you’re lying about that,” Roxy jokes, sipping her wine. “What a great reception.”
“This wedding has been wonderful,” Mom says. “Best night of my life . . . or second best . . . or hell, I’m just going to say it’s tied, and this one doesn’t involve me giving birth!”
“Yeah, well, after this, I can’t wait until Mindy’s and Oliver’s,” Roxy says. “I so wanna see that ceremony.”
There’s a clatter of silverware, and I look up from my plate to see Mom staring at Oliver and me, her eyes wide. She suddenly snaps her fingers, grinning ear to ear. “That’s it!”
“What?” Roxy asks, and I feel a wave of despair sweep over me.
“Mindy and Oliver! What if you got married tomorrow? This place is so wonderful!”
“What?” I ask, hoping to nip this in the bud. I can’t do this, I just can’t. “Mom, that’s not what we planned. Besides, you need to get packing after this. You’ve got a honeymoon to get ready for.”
“Nonsense!” Mom says, and I feel nauseous. I glance at Oliver, but I can see the same desperation in his eyes. We’re trapped, and I don’t know how we’re supposed to get out of this without hurting someone. “The whole family is here. It’ll be Sunday. Instead of us gathering for some stuffy lunch, we can have the wedding here. John, you can get that handled, right?”
Grandma doesn’t say a word, but the way she’s looking at me, I can see the hope in her eyes. She’s not as forward as Mom is, but she’s hoping we say yes, I can see it.
“But Oliver’s family—,” I began to protest, but Mom cuts me off, holding up her hand.
“Can have their own ceremony for you two. You’ve already told me you both wanted to have a wedding some place like here. John is more than willing to take care of it. I mean, you’ve already been engaged for a year. Wouldn’t it be wonderful?”
I open my mouth to say no, but I freeze when I see the weight of everyone’s eyes on me. I hate that Mom put me in this position, but I know she’s just being Mom and she means well. I look uneasily at Oliver. He’s quiet and tight-lipped. This isn’t a game now. I can tell he’s as flustered as I am. All I can do is look in his eyes, and as I do, I keep thinking about the way he said he loved me last night and the way he looked at me while we danced today.
What am I supposed to do? In a perfect world, I’d have met Oliver a year ago, he’d have walked into the Beangal’s Den, and he’d be my actual fiancé. I wouldn’t be lying. I wouldn’t be trying to decide which is worse, a sham marriage or breaking my family’s heart.
I lick my lips, looking around the table at everyone as they all stare at me. Even though there’s conversation at the other tables, at ours, it’s quiet. I can hear my heart pounding in my chest.
Now would be the time to tell them the fucking truth. I can’t keep mounting lies on top of lies.
But looking at everyone, I feel my heart squeeze. I can just imagine the look on their faces when I fess up. God, I might actually kill Grandma by breaking her heart. Congratulations on the wedding, Mom. Your daughter’s been lying and killed Grandma because of it the same night. Sorry.
Oliver starts to try to say something. “John, Mary Jo, this place is amazing, but this is your time. You guys should have the spotlight.”
John waves it off, wiping his lips with his napkin. “If that’s what you’re worried about, forget it. Mary Jo wants to see her daughter happy. Mary Jo and I are far too old to be worried about this day being special just for us. If you want to make it special, let us give you this gift. Let me do this for you.”
I look around at the hope in their eyes. The pressure is enormous, more than anything I’ve ever felt in my life. Any thought of telling them the truth dies in that moment as I look in Mom’s hopeful eyes.
“Okay,” I say, ignoring the shock that flashes in Oliver’s eyes. “We’re getting married here.”
Oliver
“How could you do something like that?” I ask, pacing back and forth in the middle of the room. “I mean, I know this, all of this, is because you’ve dug yourself a big ass hole, but . . . fuck!”
It’s hours after the reception, and we’re back in our room. I think almost everyone else is asleep, but I’m still dressed in my wedding outfit. I’ve at least taken the time to strip off my bow tie and jacket, half unbuttoning my shirt to try and be able to breathe because I’m so pissed.
Mindy’s found the time to get out of her dress, pulling on a sexy little pair of sleep shorts and a large V-neck t-shirt that does nothing to hide the fact that she’s gorgeous. In fact, if I weren’t so mad, I’d be obsessed with showing her just how gorgeous I think she is.
She looks sad and conflicted. “They were all looking at me and depending on me. I knew I should have said no, but I couldn’t do it.”
“It’s pretty easy. No. Nyet. Nein. Non,” I bite back, forcing myself to take a deep breath when I see her lip tremble. I hate how angry I sound. But this came completely out of left field. I know I’ve been lying the whole time by saying I'm Mindy’s fiancé, but this was something that didn’t have to be. But on another hand, I don’t know why I’m so worked up. “You could have at least said you’d think about it, that you don’t want to answer without having a private conversation with me. Played it off or something. Not get us deeper into some shit . . .”
“I’m usually strong and independent, but when it comes to family—” she says softly, her voice cracking. She stops and starts again. “You don’t really want to marry me, I know. You hate me now.”
“I—” I try to reply, but I choke up. I can’t speak over the lump in my throat. Is that what she wants? A real wedding? Is that why she’s looking so miserable right this moment? Does she really think I hate her? “I don’t hate you. And I don’t know what I want, not while I’m this angry. Not while . . .”
Mindy nods, and I see the hurt in her eyes. But after a week of lies, of half-hidden comments and games back and forth, I can’t lie anymore. I’m too pissed off to really respond to that.
Still, I feel like shit because I can't assuage her pain. I know she’s trying to please her family. It’s noble from a certain point of view. And she isn’t the only one who’s guilty of lying. I know we’re both in too deep. But this seems like she stepped over the line. Save your mom’s feelings? Sure, I get it. Sham marriage? No, there’s got to be a line somewhere.
When she speaks again, her voice is small and filled with shame. “I’m sorry. I know I’m a terrible person, Oliver. I swear I’m normally not such a coward. It’s okay if you hate me. If you don’t want to talk to me ever again after this is over, I’ll understand.”
Not talk to her ever again? It hurts to even hear the words. And I don’t know why I can't just tell her it's okay, we’ll do it and just get through it. I guess I’m just still raw over everyone’s emotions, seeing them hope for Mindy, wanting us to consummate our love. Love that they don’t know is supposed to be fake.
“Don't say that,” I say more harshly than I should.
“Don’t say what?” she asks, her voice raw and choked with half held-back tears. “That you hate me? Go ahead and say it. At least someone this week knows the truth about me!”