Kate looked at me. “I want you there,” she said, and her tone carried something that wasn’t guilt anymore. It was priority.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I want to be there too,” I said.
The planner asked practical questions, and I watched Kate answer with confidence. No eye rolls. No jokes. No minimizing.
After the meeting, Kate walked with me to my car. “I know I don’t get to ask for trust,” she said quietly. “But I want to earn it.”
I leaned against my car door and studied her face. “Then keep doing what you did in there,” I said. “Protect me when it’s inconvenient. Not just when it’s easy.”
Kate nodded. “Okay.”
As wedding plans progressed, the biggest challenge wasn’t the menu. It was other people.
An aunt insisted, “We’ve always served shrimp cocktail at weddings.”
A cousin joked, “Olivia’s going to make everyone eat rabbit food.”
Mom, to my surprise, was the one who shut them down.
“No,” she said firmly at a family gathering. “We are not risking Olivia’s life for tradition. If you can’t handle that, don’t come.”
The room went quiet.
I stared at my mom, stunned.
Later, she pulled me aside. “I should’ve done that years ago,” she said, voice shaking. “I’m doing it now.”