Woke Up Like This(37)
Unfortunately, Renner is making me look like a total nitwit. I overhear him telling everyone about our elaborate five-hundred-guest wedding. He includes oddly specific tidbits, claiming Pizza Hut is catering the affair, that we’re having a chocolate fondue fountain, a rose archway, a ten-piece live band, a skating rink, fireworks, Cirque du Soleil acrobats, and exotic animals casually moseying around the premises. I’ve seen enough reality TV to know that most of the time, husbands remain aloof and uninterested in wedding planning. Renner is not one of those men.
I corner him near the hot tub. “Why do you keep telling everyone we’re having an elaborate wedding?” I whisper, glancing over my shoulder to ensure no one is eavesdropping. According to Nori, we have a strict budget for our 150-person wedding at a resort near Fairfax, near Dad and Alexandra’s lake house.
He shrugs, leaning his weight against the hot tub. “Why not? Go big or go home.”
“We aren’t getting married, first of all. And even if we were, which we aren’t, I’m not blowing my life savings on one day.”
“The most special day of your life,” he corrects.
“Nope. If anything, we should have chosen to elope.”
He covers his mouth like I’ve confessed to murder. “Eloping isn’t my style.”
“This is so typical. Tossing out my ideas without consideration. What’s so wrong with a small, intimate wedding? It’s romantic. Not that we’re aiming for romance here, but—”
He furrows his brow. “You’re saying you don’t want to be surrounded by friends and family on your big day?”
“I mean, a handful. Not the entire town.” I don’t know why I’m even arguing. Of course Renner would be foaming at the prospect of a day all about him. He wouldn’t give up that opportunity.
He tips his head to the side. “Why are you trying to convince me to elope when you just said we’re canceling?”
I blink, coming to my senses. “Right. We aren’t actually getting married. We’re getting out of here. Tonight,” I remind him. But he doesn’t hear me. He’s distracted by a new arrival, his mom.
He was right when he said there was something different about her, aside from being more than a decade older. I’ve only seen Renner’s mom a handful of times. She was always naturally stunning, but a little worn with dark circles under her eyes, like a woman weighed down by life.
That isn’t the woman I see today. Her face has filled out, her skin practically glows, and she radiates joy, from her eyes to her smile.
A slightly balding man in a polo shirt with a lumberjack frame follows close behind her. It’s only when the crowd parts that I see they’re holding hands. Renner’s mom is holding hands with . . . a man who isn’t his dad.
Renner looks like he’s seen a ghost, eyes darting from them to his dad at the other end of the yard, who waves casually as they enter. I can tell from Renner’s expression that he didn’t know about this new guy.
An ache settles deep at the base of my stomach. Instinctively, I place my hand on his shoulder, but he heads inside through the sliding door.
Against my better judgment, I follow him into Ollie’s gleaming white kitchen. Renner’s making himself busy, collecting random soda cans and tossing them into the blue bin with excessive force.
“I’m sorry, Renner. Your mom didn’t mention him this morning?”
His lips tighten as he tosses another can in the bin. “Nope.” His eyes pierce through the kitchen window toward his mom and her new boyfriend on the deck.
I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen Renner not smiling, not the life of the party, at an event. Even when he’s arguing with me, he’s usually emitting an aura of nonchalance that makes me want to slap him. He’s never shown weakness, no matter what hurtful words I toss at him. But right now, sagged over the counter, he seems stripped of all that Renner-like energy. He looks flat-out sad. I don’t like it. At all.
“For what it’s worth, your mom seems really happy,” I say gently.
“She does. Happier than I’ve ever seen her, actually.” His eyes are a little misty as he watches her through the window. “I guess I can’t really be upset.”
I inch closer. “You can be. I get it,” I say, surprised at the words coming out of my mouth. I never thought I could really relate to Renner. “My parents never really fought in front of me, or if they did, they hid it well. So when my dad left, it felt so . . . out of the blue.”
He lowers his shoulders and gives me a sympathetic glance. “That must have been really hard.”
“It was.” My body eases as a new, unfamiliar energy passes between us. It’s not hatred or judgment or annoyance. It feels a little bit like understanding.
The sound of the sliding door interrupts my thoughts. Nori and Lainey come charging into the kitchen—a little tipsy—in search of hot dog buns.
Renner slips back into the yard and I take refuge in the washroom, sitting atop Ollie’s sleek toilet that doubles as a high-tech bidet. The water-pressure options are endless. It even illuminates the water in your choice of color.
Just as I begin to relish the solitude and cool tiles on my feet, there’s a knock on the bathroom door.
“Hon? You in there?”