Chapter 2 - APOLOGIZE TO MY WIFEFor several seconds, Evelyn thought she had misunderstood.
Music drifted through the ballroom doors.
Laughter.
Glasses clinking.
The muffled voice of someone giving a toast.
A wedding continued fifteen feet away.
Her son’s wedding.
And the bride had just ordered her to leave it.
“Sloane,” Evelyn said quietly, “I’m Blake’s mother.”
The bride’s expression didn’t change.
“Then you should know your place.”
Evelyn felt something break inside her.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just a thin internal fracture.
“You don’t get to speak to me that way.”
Sloane stepped closer.
Her perfume was sweet and expensive.
Her eyes were flat.
“I’ve spent eighteen months planning this wedding. Eighteen months dealing with your opinions, your questions, your little concerned looks every time Blake and I make a decision you don’t like.”
“I have barely been involved.”
“Exactly.”
Sloane smiled.
“You never understood that you weren’t supposed to be.”
Evelyn stared at her.
“I welcomed you into this family.”
“No. You tolerated me.”
“That isn’t true.”
“You think Blake deserves someone quieter.”
“I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Evelyn heard footsteps near the far end of the corridor but didn’t look away.
“Whatever you think of me, this is your wedding day. I have done everything I can to stay out of your way.”
“Then finish the job.”
Evelyn swallowed.
“I’m going back inside.”
She moved toward the doors.
Sloane blocked her.
“Don’t.”
“Sloane.”
“Leave.”
“No.”
The word surprised both of them.
Evelyn had spent the entire day surrendering small things.
Photographs.
Her seat.
Conversations.
Her pride.
She would not surrender the right to witness her son’s wedding reception.
Sloane’s jaw tightened.
“You really never know when to stop.”
Evelyn took another step.
Sloane slapped her.
Once.
Open hand.
Sharp enough that Evelyn’s head turned.
For an instant, the corridor vanished.
All she heard was the faint ringing in her left ear.
She lifted her hand to her cheek.
Sloane was breathing quickly now.
Perhaps surprised by what she had done.
Perhaps not.
Then Blake’s voice came from behind them.
“What the hell is happening?”
Evelyn turned.
Her son hurried toward them.
Relief hit her so hard her knees almost weakened.
Blake had seen them.
Blake was here.
Whatever tension had poisoned the day would end now.
He would look at her cheek.
He would ask what happened.
He would—
“Blake,” Evelyn said, “did you see what she just did?”
He stopped between them.
Looked at Evelyn.
Then Sloane.
Sloane’s voice changed immediately.
“She was coming at me.”
Evelyn stared.
“What?”
“I asked her to give us five minutes because the photographer is working, and she started arguing.”
“You slapped me.”
“I felt cornered.”
“Sloane—”
Blake raised a hand.
“Mom.”
One word.
Not compassionate.
A warning.
Evelyn looked at him.
He had the same eyes he had as a child.
The same small scar near his eyebrow from falling off a bicycle when he was nine.
She had spent an entire night in the emergency room holding his hand while he cried because he thought the stitches would hurt.
“Blake,” she whispered. “She hit me.”
He looked toward the ballroom doors.
Two guests had stepped into the corridor and immediately pretended not to notice.
Embarrassment flashed across Blake’s face.
Not concern.
Embarrassment.
He lowered his voice.
“Apologize to my wife.”
Evelyn thought perhaps shock had damaged her hearing.
“What?”
“Apologize.”
“She just slapped me.”
“Because you pushed her.”
“I didn’t touch her.”
Sloane said softly, “Blake, please. People are looking.”
That was the sentence that mattered.
People are looking.
Blake’s face hardened.
“Mom, apologize.”
Evelyn stared at her son.
“No.”
“Don’t do this.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You’ve been making this wedding difficult for months.”
“I have done everything you asked.”
“Then for once just let something go.”
Evelyn laughed once.
It sounded broken.
“She hit me.”
Blake grabbed her upper arm.
Pain shot through the tender skin.
“Blake.”
“Stop.”
He pushed her backward.
Her shoulder struck the wall.
Not violently enough to injure her.
Hard enough to shock her.
Hard enough that everything inside her went still.
Blake released her.
“Because you never know when to shut up.”
Silence.
Even Sloane looked momentarily startled.
Evelyn stared at the man standing in front of her.
Thirty-five years old.
Black tuxedo.
Wedding ring gleaming beneath the corridor lights.
Her son.
Her little boy.
The child who used to crawl into her bed during thunderstorms.
The teenager who called her from college when his first girlfriend broke his heart.
The man whose wedding photographs she had spent the day trying not to ruin.
Her eyes filled.
“Blake,” she said softly, “I’m your mother.”
For a second, something flickered behind his eyes.
Then Sloane touched his hand.
It vanished.
Blake looked at Evelyn without sympathy.
“Then stay out of my reception.”
He paused.
“And stop embarrassing me.”
Sloane slipped her arm through his.
“Come on. Our guests are waiting.”
The two of them turned.
Walked away.
Evelyn remained against the wall.
Neither looked back.
The ballroom doors opened.
Music rushed into the corridor.
May you like
Then the doors closed again.
And Evelyn Mercer stood alone beneath the security camera while the celebration continued without her.
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