I shrug. I didn’t think about it. It just feels like I’m about to turn a corner, like the ground is about to shift beneath my feet, and my mother has always been with me for every transition, large or small. It’s always been her and me against the world. Me getting married . . . it feels a little like the end of an era and the beginning of something new. Starting this day with the woman who got me where I am . . . it felt right.
“I didn’t hold back my opinion when you told me you were in love with Bristol,” Ma says. “You’ve always known I didn’t want you bringing no white girls home.”
My heart sinks in my chest. I’m prepared to take these next steps without the support of my friends and family, but it’s bad enough not having Jade. Taking such a monumental step without Ma in my corner, especially when I thought we had come so far, it would hurt.
“But then I met her,” Ma says. “And ‘them white girls’ became Bristol. That girl loves you, and you love yourself some Bristol.”
Her humor and the relief that she does seem supportive after all coax a chuckle from my throat.
“True that,” I say with a smile that lingers on my lips even after the laughter dies.
“Let me show you something.” Ma bends to her purse and pulls out a small bag discreetly etched with Chelle’s, Bristol’s favorite jewelry store. She passes the bag to me, urging me to open it with a nod of her head when I just stare at it blankly. “Go on. Look.”
I pull the delicate tissue from the bag, finding an ornate box inside. When I crack it open, there’s a brooch tipped with a crown studded with diamonds. I’m pretty sure the brooch’s stickpin is platinum, and this must have cost a small fortune.
“Read the card,” Ma says, watching my face carefully for a reaction. I find the folded card hidden in the depths of the tissue.
MS. JAMES,
I know it’s unconventional for the bride to give her future mother-in-law a wedding gift, but I really wanted you to have this. As soon as I saw this crown, I knew it belonged to you, #GripzQueen. I want to thank you for so many things, for giving me a chance though I wasn’t what you originally envisioned for your son, for making me feel like part of your family, something my own parents weren’t always sure how to do. Most of all, thank you for raising such a magnificent man. He is the man of my dreams. When I thought of my husband, I didn’t dream in color, I dreamt in character. My own father’s left much to be desired, and I only knew I wanted something different from what I saw in my pare
nts. I have that with Grip, and it’s because of the remarkable character you instilled in him. So, thank you, Grip’s original queen. I would like to be a daughter to you, but I will accept friendship. Whatever we are, we both love Grip – Marlon – more than anything else in this world, and we’ll always have that.
Thank you again,
Bristol
I FIGURED I would cry at some point before this day was over, but I didn’t expect it to be before it has even really begun. I’m sure my mother loved this, was pleased by it, and that’s great, but I read between the lines of this letter and see all the things no one else knows about Bristol. I see all the ways she’s vulnerable and never lets on, all the things she ached for growing up but never received. I’m amazed by this girl’s capacity to love. She learned early on to reach out first, constantly asking for love from her parents, and even from Rhyson. She was, and many times still is, the one holding her family together, even when they don’t want to be. Even though my mother rejected her at first, she has been reaching out to her every chance she’s gotten. I grab my mother’s mimosa, knocking it back and washing away the emotion burning my throat. I’m not crying—not yet.
I kiss Ma’s cheek at the door, studiously ignoring the sheen of tears in her eyes. If I look too closely, I’ll see all the sacrifices she made, all the hardships she endured for me to have not just this day, but most of the other good things in my life. With promises to see her at the ceremony, I rush to the elevator, determined to see Bristol before everyone gathers at the small stacked stone chapel where we’ll exchange our vows. Fuck tradition. She won’t be in her wedding dress yet—is there a specific rule about seeing your bride naked before the ceremony?
No? Thought not.
I step into the elevator, stopping short when I come face to face with the last person on earth I expected to see in Aspen for my wedding . . . unless this is a weird coincidence and he’s here for something else.
“Iz.” I blink stupidly at him leaning against the wall in the corner. “What are you doing here?”
He shifts his feet, a quick frown jerking his brows together.
“Well, I . . . ” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans. “I heard you were getting married.”
I level a knowing look on him.
“We went to a lot of trouble to make sure that no one ‘just hears’ we’re getting married, so I doubt that.”
“Maybe my invitation got lost in the mail,” Iz offers with a half-smile.
“They were digital.”
“Spam?”
“Nope.” I narrow my eyes at him. “I didn’t send you an invitation, and you know why.”
“I know you didn’t.” He glances at his boots with their light dusting of snow. “Bristol did.”
I’m completely silent while I process this information. I don’t know if I’m pleased, angry, confused, or something else altogether. While I’m figuring that out, Iz goes on.
“You’re right,” he says. “She is wiser than we are. I kept going back to that passage she highlighted and had me sign in my book. I must have read it a hundred times, seeing it through her eyes.”