Page 89 of One Hotlanta Night
Ihate this cloud of negativity that has fallen over me, but I know my mom. She’s gonna be less than thrilled at the idea of me marrying and moving somewhere else with a veritable stranger. Never mind that he’s not a stranger to me. Her response is going to be the opposite of Michael’s family.
After he picked me up, looking so handsome in his charcoal-gray pants and light blue shirt, sleeves rolled up and wearing the glasses that make me want to tackle him right back to bed, he called his parents and grandparents on speakerphone. Three-way had never come so handy before. I’d asked Michael if he wanted to have this conversation privately, in case there were any negative reactions to our news. You’d think we were announcing a pregnancy with how anxious I was. He reassuredme that anything important we had to discuss, we would discuss together. That we are a team, a united front. So I tried to swallow my nerves as he dialed.
Turned out I had nothing to worry about. His family was ecstatic about the news. A little bummed, maybe, that we’d be living farther away instead of closer to Charlotte. But the mention of a quick wedding didn’t cause any consternation whatsoever. To my surprise, the women of the family whooped and shrieked and assured us that they could put together a wedding in two weeks, no problem. I sat in shock, listening as they spoke over each other in rapid-fire Spanish, only picking up the words, “cake,” “flowers,” and “location,” here and there. Michael laughed and hushed them good-naturedly, promising a much longer phone chat later to iron out the details. The last thing I remember hearing was him thanking his dad for the ring.
As Michael said goodbye for both of us, I sat in my seat twisting the jewelry round and round on my finger. It was so beautiful, priceless, really. It had lasted decades, and that was the same sort of commitment I was about to embark upon with Michael. How was I going to explain to my mom that this was the right thing to do? She’d probably just think he was another fly-by-night boyfriend. Never mind the fact that Michael has shown through all of his words and actions how deeply he is devoted to me.
The idea of Michael isn’t going to be a total surprise to her. When we talked a couple weeks ago, I did tell her that I’d met someone, and I really liked him. She’d asked the usual things: what does he do, where is he from, and where did we meet (I definitely didn’t reveal that it was in a club). Even though I suspected Michael was going to be someone serious in my life, I didn’t give any indication of bringing him around to meet her. I enjoyed being with him so much that I didn’t want to risk her biting commentary ruining my happy little bubble.
After that momentous trip to Charlotte—meeting his family, and realizing it was more of a “meet the parents” than I was expecting—I was so blindsided and consumed with what had happened it just didn’t occur to me to reciprocate. At least not at the time. But after Michael’s impromptu “proposal”—I still giggle at that—and then the drama with Trent at the restaurant, I realized I couldn’t delay introducing them any longer. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been avoiding it, though.
The thing is, my mom has never had any problem vocalizing her opinions about all aspects of my life, love life included. First, she thought I was too serious with guys, then she thought I was too much of a player. It’s like there’s no middle ground with her, and any attempt at clarification fell on deaf ears. While I don’t think she’ll bring up my past at dinner, I’m definitely nervous to tell her that not only am I serious about Michael, but we’re getting married.
When I called to invite her to dinner, I lured her with the promise of O’Charley’s. The American chain is her favorite restaurant, and as close to neutral ground as we’re gonna get.
Michael’s hand never leaves my thigh as we drive to Buford, but I can’t stop it from jiggling the entire ride there. “Relax, mi amor,” he soothes, the deep rumble of his voice soothing.
“I just… I feel like I need to apologize in advance for anything my mom might say tonight,” I blurt out.
“You really think it’s going to be that bad?” He laughs.
“I honestly don’t know,” I admit. “Don’t get me wrong, I think she’ll like you,” I quickly add, not wanting my anxiety to affect him.
“I’ll bring on the charm.” He winks at me and squeezes my leg. “Why are you so worried, cariño?” That is the million dollar question. I’ve never been more nervous to “bring a guy home” than I am now. Because this is a big deal. He’sthe one.
Like everything else since I’ve met Michael, I’ve known that this was different. Thathewas different. The thought both exhilarated me and terrified me. I want this to work out, so,sobadly, and I don’t want to take any chances to mess up what I have with him. I almost don’t recognize myself with how bad I want this—him—but I do. More than anything I’ve wanted before. I still can’t explain this absolute *knowing* that I feel deep in my gut.
But if I can’t explain it to myself, how am I supposed to make my mom understand?
Our relationship has always been a little rocky. We were close when I was growing up, but as my rebellious years hit, we stopped seeing eye to eye. We have very different ideas of what success looks like and have been butting heads for years. It’s why I moved out as soon as I hit eighteen. That raging teenage need for independence and whatnot.
I know my mom loves me no matter what; deep down, I recognize that’s never changed. But as things in my life unraveled and my list ofun-accomplishments stacked up, we’ve had extremely different ideas on everything from my job to what I wore. Most conversations devolve into arguments, so I try not to get into it with her. I respect her point of view, I really do, I just wish she would respect mine.
My mom was happy when I told her Trent and I were done, but scoffed at my ability to go longer than a few days without a new guy on my arm. I’m not even sure that she believes I succeeded in taking a break, given that our check-ins are infrequent. All I know is that I’m determined to show her that Michael is different from the rest.
He’s the only one I want for the rest of my life.
Still, there’s no way she’s going to take our news easily, and I’m tamping down the nausea swirling in my gut. I don’t want toargue with her in public—hence picking her favorite restaurant—so I’m hoping tonight’s dinner doesn’t go too awry.
“Smoke is coming out of your ears again,” Michael teases quietly.
I exhale and smile, grateful that he’s trying to make me laugh. “She just… She taught me to think for myself, how to make my own decisions, right? But she never handled it well when those decisions didn’t line up with her own.” He squeezes my knee again, urging me on. “We’ve had different values for a long time now. She had one idea of how my life should go, and I had another. And while I know deep down she loves me, it still stings that I don’t have her approval, you know?”
“I hear you, mi amor.”
Now that I’ve met his family and seen how close they are, I understand better how hard it must have been for him to be here alone, separated from his loved ones. But he tells me, and he shows me, over and over again, how much he loves me. How we’ll build a family together. If it’s anything like his grandparents, I want it. More than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.
The first part of dinner goes great. Better than I could have hoped, in fact. The beautiful sunflower arrangement Michael brought for my mom doesn’t hurt; especially since I don’t think any of my boyfriends have ever brought flowers before.Husband, my mind corrects, as if I can hear Michael saying it to me, and I have to stifle a giggle.
Michael ordered a bottle of white wine, to my mother’s approval. They’re talking shop and swapping work stories; she’slaughing and he’s relaxed, winning her over exactly as he said he would. I gotta admit, seeing this side of him as he trades witty anecdotes is very appealing. He and I might’ve skipped the whole small talk thing, but seeing him with one leg crossed over his knee and his arm around my chair as he’s leaning back, not cocky but just radiating confidence as he expertly entertains my mom is just plain sexy. He really does know what he’s doing.
When it’s time for dessert, we decide to split a triple chocolate cheesecake, one of those big fancy ones that looks like it's sky high on a platter. Things are going better than expected, so I decide now is as good a time as any to approach the subject we came here for. As we’re about to dip our spoons into the chocolate monstrosity, I turn to my mom and say, “So, we wanted to tell you something.”
“Hmm? What’s that?” My mom takes a sip of her wine.
“Michael and I…” The words stick in my mouth. Everything has been going so well. I hate to ruin the evening with the inevitable fallout. Do Ihaveto do it tonight? It’s been such a pleasant dinner, far better than I could have expected. For once, my mom actually seems to approve of someone I’m with. Maybe we can just do this another time. I’m dragging my feet and I know it, so I clear my throat and continue, “We, um…” I falter and Michael squeezes my shoulder, searching my eyes. I give an imperceptible nod, and Michael takes over for me. Warmth suffuses my chest as I relax slightly, grateful to have his support.
“Vivian and I are going to be married,” he says in a quiet but firm tone. A gurgle from my mom alerts me to the fact that she’s choking on her drink. I swiftly rise to pat her on the back.
