Page 82 of Rule Breakers Fall Hardest

“Why don’t we come there to see you guys?”

“Mom. No.”

Setting boundaries with parents can be hard. She forgets that I’m an adult now, with my own life.

“Why not?”

I stifle the urge to groan. “Like I told you, Daire and I want to spend our first Christmas together.”

“I think it’s unreasonable that you don’t even want to see us. It’sChristmas.” A sniffle echoes over the line. She’s really laying the guilt on thick now. “Grace misses you.”

“Just you and Grace, huh?” No mention of my dad. “We can FaceTime on Christmas morning.”

She sniffles again for dramatic effect. “It’s not the same.”

The longer we talk, the heavier the weight pushing on my shoulders becomes. Not once has she mentioned my dad missing me too. I’ve stopped trying to reach out to him, deciding it’s better to let him work through his anger.

I’ve always been a daddy’s girl, so being on the outs with himsucks.We’ll move past this eventually, but that doesn’t keep me from wishing we could skip to that part now.

“Back to the dresses—I’ll schedule a visit in January. Grace and I will be there. I’mnotmissing out on this. You already robbed me of the first wedding.”

“It was in a courthouse,” I remind her.

“I don’t care. I would’ve been there.”

No, she would’ve been dragging me out of there and demanding we have a real wedding.

“I don’t know if I’ll have time.”

“Make time. And lose ten pounds. You’ll fit in the samples… more easily.”

When she hangs up, all I can do is gape at my phone. I know she doesn’t intend to hurt me with her words, but fuck, it feels like a stab to the heart every single time. Why does the size of my body matter so much to her? I’m the one living in this shell.

I tuck my phone into my pocket, inhaling a steadying breath. Even though I made Daire promise we could have a real wedding, I’m beginning to regret that part of the bargain. All because my treacherous feelings keep forgetting that this marriage isn’t real.

And my stupid mother is telling me I need to lose weight to fit into adress.

It’s just a fucking dress.

Slipping out of the alcove, I start toward the dining hall. I’ve completely lost my appetite, but I could go for a hot chocolate. At this time of the year, they serve specialty hot chocolate, and I’m in desperate need of a peppermint cocoa with a snowman marshmallow.

“Rosie? Wait up!”

At the sound of my name, I look up and come to a stop. Daire—myhusband—is jogging away from a group of guys, Cree and Jude among them, and he’s headed my way.

“I—” The word dies on his tongue, and his face morphs into a mask of concern. “What’s wrong?” He reaches for my wrist, warm fingers wrapping around the cold patch of skin. “Did someone hurt you?”

“Just my mother,” I retort.

His eyes narrow. “Do I need to call her?”

Snorting, I pull my coat higher up around my face. I feel like a turtle poking its head out of its shell, but I can’t bring myself to care.

“No. But don’t be surprised if she shows up on our doorstep on Christmas, despite being told no multiple times. That word doesn’t seem to exist her vocabulary.”

“What did she say?” he demands, not letting it go.

“It really doesn’t matter.” I shake him loose, then turn and continue my trek to the dining hall.

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