Page 44 of Love Without Demands

She was in full fired-up mode now, pacing and shaking her head with her arms crossed over her stomach. I couldn’t help but notice how loosely her gray T-shirt hung from her frame, and it worried me.

“Have you talked to Dwight about it?”

Lehra whirled, and her eyes blazed with a fury that surprised me. “Ohhh, yesss,” she hissed. “He takes her side on everything. Ev-er-y-thing! So it’s two against one, and I get outvoted.”

My own fury rises up that a man wouldn’t support the woman he’s planning to marry. What a fucking douche. “It’s not her wedding, Lehra. She doesn’t get a vote.”

“Right?” she snapped, but I was aware her anger wasn’t directed at me. “I had all these hairstyles pinned on my Pinterest board, but she didn’t like any of them. I want an updo, but she wants my hair down. Of course Dwight agrees with her. And they’re not mean about it. They turn everything into a compliment.” Her voice turns mocking. “Oh, Lehra dear, you have such pretty hair. It would be a shame to hide it.”

“So they’re gaslighting you.”

“Yes,” she fervently agrees, poking me in the chest. “Theyaregaslighting me. I’ve tried to stand up for what I want, but when they gang up on me, what can I do?”

She turned and paced away, and I couldn’t help but notice how matted her hair was in the back. I wished I could run my fingers through it and soothe her like I used to do with my sister when she was little. When Quinnie would get scared in the middle of the night, she would come and climb in my bed, turning her back to me and asking, “Will you rub my hair, butter?” She had trouble pronouncing brother, so that’s what she called me.

I didn’t have an answer for Lehra, other than me committing homicide against Mrs. Jones and her pussy-ass son, so I simply let her talk.

“It’s not just the hair thing. It’s also the venue, the bridesmaids, the wedding colors.” She spun around to face me again. “And if I hear the wordaestheticone more fucking time, I’m going to scream. Do you understand me?”

I answered the rhetorical question with a quiet, “Yes.”

“I’m supposed to go to Michigan this weekend with Gianna, Artie, and Nicolette. Mrs. Jones said she would arrange the flights, but when she sent the tickets, there wasn’t one for Artie. She said, ‘Oh dear, the airline must have made a mistake,’ but I know she’s lying. We’ve had several arguments about Artie being my bridesman, and she hates the idea, so she’s trying to freeze him out.”

“That’s fucked up,” I replied. “That should be your decision.”

“I know, and now I’m worried she’s going to railroad me into getting a dress I don’t want. There’s this shop where everyone in her family gets their wedding dresses, but I want Devereaux and Tora to make mine. They’ve already done some sketches, and I’ve fallen in love with one of them. It’s what I want.”

Her eyes pleaded with me, and goddammit, she was going to have me on her side, even if her dickhead fiancé wasn’t. “I thinkyou should get whatever fucking dress you want, Lehra. Can your mom help?”

With a softening expression, she said, “My mom is awesome, but she works as a nurse and can’t take off work for all thesemeetings. I’m… all alone.”

A large crack forms down the center of my chest at the despair in her voice, and I mentally go through my weekend schedule. I’m not supposed to work, so I made the snap decision to take a little impromptu trip to Michigan.

Lehra stomped to the coffee table, which was littered with what looked like wedding invitations, and picked up two hands full. “I hated all the invitations Mrs. Jones sent, so I told her I would pick them out from here. I decided I wanted to control at leastone thing, so I went to that printer where we picked up the Christmas party invites. They gave me all these samples.”

She waved them wildly around, and her tears were back, ones of frustration and hurt this time. “But now I’m second-guessing everything. What if I pick the wrong ones? What if Dwight hates them?” She threw them up in the air and watched as they drifted down to the rug and table. “What if they’re right, and I’m just stupid?”

Her voice broke, and that was fucking it for me. These assholes have broken her down to the point that she doesn’t even feel confident picking out an invitation to her own wedding.

Crossing the room in two strides, I yanked her into my arms and pressed her face against my shoulder. And I let her cry. The sobs shook her body, and I could feel them emanating from her slight frame and piercing directly in my bones.

“Shhh,” I soothed, finally allowing one of my hands to go to her hair and gently smooth out the tangles. “You’re not stupid, Lehra. They’ve gotten into your head, but I won’t let that happen anymore. You’re not alone, sweetheart. I promise you’re not.”

She sobbed and sniffled, and I could feel the dampness of her pain seeping into my shirt. My heart wanted me to tell her to call off the whole fucking wedding because any man who treats her like this doesn’t deserve her. But my mind was telling me that wasn’t what she needed to hear, so I wrapped both arms around her and held her tight, loving the feel of her against me and wishing she was mine.

“You give the best hugs,” she murmured, and I lowered my lips to the top of her head.

“That’s what Noelle says, but I think she’s biased.”

That earned me a small laugh, and I pulled back a little to see a slight smile on Lehra’s blotchy face. “Noelle is a smart girl. If they gave out Nobel Prizes for hugs, I would nominate you.”

I wanted to punch the hell out of everyone who had taken that smile from her face the past few months, and an idea hit me.

“Go change into some workout clothes.”

Her eyebrows knitted together. “Why.”

“Just trust me, Tink,” I said, and she nodded as she backed away.

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