“You’re pregnant, sweetheart,” she said. “You shouldn’t have to worry about a thing.”
Within two weeks she’d ordered centerpieces I never picked, invited nearly forty people, moved the party because my restaurant was “too small,” and added games I’d specifically rejected.
“Diane, I don’t even know half these names.”
“They’re my friends. They’re so excited for me.”
For her. I noticed that. I let it go.
“You shouldn’t have to worry about a thing.”
Whenever I objected, she patted my arm.
“Trust me. You’ll thank me.”
Levi watched me stew for days.
One night he looked up from the dishes and said, “I’ll talk to her. Tonight. Say the word.”
“Don’t,” I said.
“Trust me. You’ll thank me.”
“Mel.”
“She’s going to be his only grandmother, Levi.” My voice wobbled and I hated it. “She’s waited years for this. I know what it feels like to want your mom at something. I’m not going to begrudge her one afternoon.”
He dried his hands slowly. “It’s your call. But I think you’re being too nice.”
