Ryan told his parents over dinner.
Frank stared at him.
“Destination wedding?”
“Yes.”
Mavis looked horrified.
“After everything we’ve already planned?”
Ryan gave her a look.
“You mean everything we planned.”
She ignored that.
“Where?”
He told her.
Within thirty seconds, her reaction shifted from offended to excited.
“Oh.”
She sat back.
“Well. I suppose it could be lovely.”
Then she started asking questions.
“What month?”
“Same date.”
“Oh, wonderful. I’ll need something lighter, then.”
She immediately started discussing dresses, shoes, and whether she could wear pale champagne without it photographing as white.
On the drive home, I finally looked at Ryan.
“Are you going to tell her?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
He kept his eyes on the road.
“Give it a day or two. She always assumes. I think it’s time she learned a lesson.”
That happened three days later.
Mavis called while we were eating breakfast.
Ryan put her on speaker.
“I need the hotel details,” she said.
“For what?”
“So I can book our room.”
There was a pause.
“For the wedding.”
Ryan buttered his toast.
“What about it?”
Another pause.
“What?”
Ryan calmly answered.
“Mom, you’re not coming.”
Silence.
I stopped chewing.
Then Mavis laughed.
