Chapter 13 - THE FIRST FIGHT OF OUR MARRIAGE
We talked the next morning.
Really talked.
Not about Martha.
About us.
“I’m angry,” I told him.
“I know.”
“I don’t blame you for what she did.”
“I know.”
“But I blame you for deciding what information I could handle.”
Nick nodded.
“You’re right.”
I hadn’t expected him to say it that quickly.
He continued.
“I thought keeping you from worrying was the same thing as protecting you.”
“It isn’t.”
“No.”
I sat across from him.
“When your mother caused problems, we developed a pattern.”
He listened.
“She did something.”
“You minimized it.”
“I tried to keep things calm.”
“And I agreed because I loved you.”
Nick nodded.
“But calm isn’t the same thing as healthy.”
He looked toward the window.
“I learned that from Dad.”
“What?”
“Keeping peace at any cost.”
I understood immediately.
Thomas had spent years trying to manage Martha privately.
He documented.
He confronted.
He negotiated.
But he never fully exposed what was happening.
Nick had copied that behavior without realizing it.
“I don’t want our marriage to work like that,” he said.
“Neither do I.”
“So I’m done.”
“With what?”
“Keeping secrets because I think they’ll protect you.”
He reached across the table.
“No more managing my mother.”
“No more asking you to ignore her.”
“No more pretending things are smaller than they are.”
I took his hand.
“And I’ll stop pretending I’m fine just because I don’t want you caught in the middle.”
“That would help.”
I almost smiled.
Then my phone rang.
Caroline.
I answered.
“Hey.”
Her voice sounded strange.
“Are you home?”
“No.”
“When are you coming back?”
“This afternoon.”
There was a pause.
“Something happened.”
Nick heard the change in my expression.
“What?”
“My mother found another message from Martha.”
I sighed.
“What now?”
“This one wasn’t to me.”
“Who was it to?”
Caroline hesitated.
“Your wedding photographer.”
I sat up straighter.
“What?”
“Martha contacted him six days before the wedding.”
“Why?”
Caroline took a breath.
“She asked whether certain photos could be deleted.”
My heart started pounding.
“What photos?”
“She didn’t specify.”
Nick leaned closer.
“Did the photographer agree?”
“No.”
“What did Martha say?”
Caroline was quiet for a moment.
Then she read the message.
IF SOMETHING EMBARRASSING HAPPENS AT THE RECEPTION, I DON’T WANT IT DOCUMENTED.
Nick and I looked at each other.
Six days before the wedding.
Martha knew something embarrassing might happen.
May you like
Which meant cutting my hair probably hadn’t been an impulsive decision.
It had been planned.
