Don’t Mind If “I Do” by Everly Ashton
Twenty-Three
Nick
I’m taking the last pull of my beer when Mazzy rejoins me outside. She’s paler than she was a minute ago, and the look on her face raises the hair on the back of my neck.
“What’s wrong?” I set down my beer and sit up straight. “Are you not feeling well again?”
“No, no, I’m fine. It’s just… the doorbell rang when I was inside, so I answered the door.”
“Okay…”
“Your parents are here.”
My stomach bottoms out. “Here? Now?”
She nods frantically. “I asked them to wait in the living room. I said we were just finishing up dinner and then lied, saying the bugs were getting bad so we’d sit inside.”
I stand from the table and push a hand through my hair. I’ve been ignoring my mother’s calls and texts for a couple of days, but I didn’t think she’d come out here to the suburbs to get her word in. I wonder how the hell she convinced my dad to tag along.
“What should I do?” she whisper-shouts.
“Get ready to put on a convincing show.” I walk past Mazzy, snagging her hand as I do. Hopefully, the fact that her hand still fits perfectly in mine will help my parents believe this charade.
We walk into the living room hand in hand.
“Mom, Dad, I’m surprised to see you.” I drop Mazzy’s hand to kiss and hug my mother and shake my father’s hand—as is expected of me—with hopes it’ll turn off their radar that something is amiss.
“Well when you have to find out from the newspaper that your son got married, I’d say that warrants a visit.”
With my hands on my hips, I nod. “Fair enough. Why don’t you guys have a seat?”
My parents choose to sit on the chairs, which leaves Mazzy and me to sit on the couch opposite them. Mazzy sits first and I sit close to her to make this believable.
“Now why don’t you two explain what the hell is going on here?” my mom says, her head volleying between us.
“We got married,” I say.
“Are you pregnant, Mazzy?”
Mazzy’s eyes widen and she sputters for a minute before I save her.
“No one is pregnant. We’re just in good old-fashioned love.” I take her hand once again as if to prove my point. “We ran into each other, and since we both feel the same, we didn’t want to wait to make it official.” I bring her hand to my lips and kiss her knuckles.
“Did you give any thought to how it might look for the two of you to run off without anyone knowing?” my dad asks.
It’s been nearly a year since I’ve seen my father, and these are his first words to me.
“In fact, no. Because unlike you, I don’t care what anyone thinks.”
Mazzy squeezes my hand. I’m not sure if she’s trying to get me to back off or whether it’s a sign of encouragement.
“Well, that’s just like you. But perhaps your new bride cares,” Dad says. “She is still thought of highly in our circles, despite the downfall of her first marriage.”
Mazzy’s hand twitches in mine. My dad, the tactless bastard.
“What’s done is done. The question now is what are we going to do to turn this around?” my mom says, ever the practical one.
“There’s nothing to turn around. We’re married. It’s done. We’re going run off into the sunset.”
My mom’s hand lands on her chest. “What am I supposed to do when people ask us why you had a wedding without inviting anyone? Without your family?”
“I don’t really care what you say. Tell them your son is happily married. That should be enough. Then again, no one likes happy marriages, do they? What do you gossip about when people are happy?”
My dad slams his fist on the arm of the chair. “Jesus Christ, son. Do you care so little for us that you don’t even bat an eye when you’re upsetting your mother?”
“I’m sorry if you’re upset, but it’s not my job to make sure you’re happy. You certainly didn’t make it your job to make me happy.”
Dad rolls his eyes. This is the exact reason I avoid my father and my brother. This conversation is reminiscent of all my interactions with them. I see my mom from time to time because the two of us can usually find some common ground to last the length of a lunch.
“I don’t know many sons who wouldn’t be happy taking a major role in the family business. No one except you.”
And there it is. The crux of why we’re both so bitter. My father wanted me to take over his law practice, but I had no interest. Since I made it clear when I was in high school that I was pursuing medicine—combined with the fact that I always bucked against all my father’s expectations—we’ve never been able to get along.
“I think most fathers wouldn’t be disappointed that their son wanted to be a doctor.”
We glare at each other until Mazzy speaks up.
“I had the chance to see Nick in his element at the hospital last week. You’d be very proud if you saw how many people he helps.” She looks at me with a smile I think might be genuine.
Whether it is or isn’t, I appreciate her having my back, something I hope I communicate when I return her smile and bring her knuckles to my lips again.
“I’m sure you’re wonderful at your job,” my mom concedes.
My father, however, says, “Good thing I had at least one son who could handle his responsibility to his family.”
My face heats with anger at the mention of my brother. “Yeah, what would you do without Keith to be your mini-me?”
“Enough.” My mother raises her hands. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. We came here to find out why you wouldn’t tell us you were getting married.” I open my mouth to speak, but she raises her hand again. “And to welcome Mazzy into the Ryan family.”
They both look at Mazzy as though she’s got the golden ticket. Oh yes, I’m sure they’re thrilled their son has married a Pembrooke. My father would likely be fine with cutting me out of his life entirely, but now I’m of use to him. That’s why he came with my mother.
“Thank you.” Mazzy smiles at them and nods, but the smile doesn’t reach her eyes.
“We also wanted to invite you for dinner. Sort of a celebration of your marriage. Just the family. I can tell already you won’t be wanting a big event, Nick.”
“Thank you, that’s very kind of you,” Mazzy says with the practiced polish of someone raised to say the right thing. “My calendar is pretty full these days and Nick’s on shift at the hospital a lot, but I’ll look into a date that might work and get back to you.”
“Perfect.” My mom stands and my father follows suit. “We’re going to get going. I’m sure you newlyweds have better things to do than this.”
I don’t bother looking at Mazzy to see if she’s as uncomfortable as I am with my mom’s innuendo. We both stand to see my parents out.
Mom glances around while she heads to the front door. “This is a lovely place you have here.”
“It’s very… homey,” my dad follows up with, but I ignore him.
Mazzy gives both my parents a hug and a kiss on the cheek goodbye while I just hug my mom and don’t even bother addressing my dad.
“I’ll be in touch,” Mazzy says. As soon as the door closes behind them, she turns and meets my gaze. “We’re not going for dinner there, don’t worry. I’ll come up with an excuse.”
I see what looks like pity in her eyes, which I hate. She understands the dynamic between my father and me better than anyone.
“Glad we’re on the same page.”
She nods. “I’m going to go take our plates in from outside.”
She moves to walk past me, but I grip her wrist in my hand, stopping her. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For having my back with my parents. It won’t make any difference with how my dad sees me, but I appreciate it nonetheless.”
“You’re welcome.”
I let her go and watch her make her way from the room. It feels like the beginning of a tenuous truce that doesn’t feel fake like our marriage.