“Mum said you’re not right for us,” explained the groom, calling off the wedding.
“Did you order the flowers yet?” asked Margaret, squinting at her daughter’s checklist. “Florists get booked up fastwedding season, you know.”
Katie nodded, her eyes fixed on the wedding dress hanging by the mirror.
“Done. White roses and lisianthus, like we agreed.”
“Good girl. What about the band? That MC from Beckys weddingis he free?”
“Mum, everythings sorted,” Katie sighed. “I told you yesterday.”
Margaret set the notebook down and studied her daughter. Katie stood with her back turned, fussing over the dresss folds, but the tension in her shoulders gave her away.
“Katie, love, why so glum? The weddings in a week, and youre moping like its a funeral.”
“Just nerves, Mum. Its normal.”
“Course it is. I was a wreck before mine too.”
Katie turned around, her face pale with dark circles under her eyes.
“Did you ever regret marrying Dad?”
Margaret blinked.
“Not once. He was a good man. Whats got you thinking like that?”
“Sometimes I wonder if this is the right choice. What if James and I are too different?”
“Oh, dont be daft. James is lovelyhardworking, doesnt drink, doesnt mess about. His mums decent, hes got a flat. What more could you want?”
Katie turned back to the mirror. Her reflection showed sad eyes.
“Mum how do you know if you really love someone?”
“Katie!” Margaret threw her hands up. “A week before the wedding, and youre asking this? Of course you love him. Why else would you say yes?”
“I dont know. Maybe because its expected. Im twenty-eightall my friends are married.”
“Exactly. Time to settle down, start a family. You cant stay single forever.”
The doorbell cut them off. Katie answered, and a minute later, James walked in with a bouquet of carnations.
“Hello, gorgeous,” he said, kissing her cheek. “Margaret, lovely to see you.”
“Hello, son,” she smiled. “All set to be a husband?”
“Absolutely.” He wrapped an arm around Katies waist. “Right, love?”
Katie forced a smile. “Yeah. Of course.”
“Wheres your mum?” Margaret asked. “We were supposed to finalise the details today.”
James hesitated. “Shes not feeling great. Sends her apologies.”
“Again?” Margaret frowned. “First headaches, now blood pressure. Odd, that.”
“Shes just stressed about the wedding.”
Katie watched him closely. Something was offhis eyes darted, his fingers fidgeted.
“James, maybe we should pop round? See how shes doing.”
“No need,” he said quickly. “Shes resting. Best not disturb her.”
“Stay for tea, then,” Margaret offered. “Baked your favourite biscuits.”
“Thanks, but Ive got errands.”
He kissed Katie againthis time hastilyand headed for the door.
“Wait,” Katie stopped him. “Ill walk with you. Need some air.”
“Not necessary. Ive got the car.”
“Then drop me at the shops. Need groceries.”
Reluctantly, he agreed.
Outside, they got into his old hatchback. Katie buckled up, studying him.
“James, whats going on? Youre acting weird.”
“Just tired from work.”
“And your mums really ill?”
He didnt answer immediately, starting the engine instead.
“Katie we need to talk.”
Her stomach dropped. “About what?”
“The wedding.”
“What about it?”
He pulled over, cut the engine, and turned to herbut avoided her gaze.
“Mum said youre not right for us,” he blurted.
The words hit like ice.
“What?”
“Shes against the wedding. Says were not a match.”
“James, this is sudden. Weve been together a year and a halfshe was fine before!”
“Dunno. She just thinks so.”
“And what do *you* think?”
He shrugged. “Mums got more life experience.”
Katie stared at the man shed planned to spend her life withand barely recognised him.
“James, we love each other. Doesnt that matter more than your mums opinion?”
“Loves just words,” he muttered. “Real lifes different. Mum says youre too independent. Wont listen to me.”
“Whered she get that idea?”
“You earn more than me. Mum says wives like that dont respect their husbands.”
Anger flared in Katies chest.
“So I should quit my job to please her?”
“Not quit. Maybe find something simpler. More time for family.”
“*Your* family, or *ours*?”
James scowled. “Dont talk about Mum like that. She wants whats best.”
“For *you*or for *her*?”
“Katie, you dont get it. Mum raised me aloneDad left when I was five. She sacrificed everything.”
“And now youll sacrifice *us* for her?”
“Shes my mother. I cant upset her.”
The truth hit Katie like a train. For a year and a half, shed thought James was earnest, gentlemaybe a bit passive. Shed assumed marriage would toughen him up.
But he wasnt gentle. He was spineless.
“James,” she said coldly, “what exactly does your mum dislike about me?”
He shifted. “Says youre proud. Dont take criticism well.”
Katie remembered the nitpicking*too much salt in the stew, shirts ironed wrong, makeup too bold*.
“And?”
“Says you dont want kids. Care more about your career.”
“I *never* said that!”
“You brushed me off when I mentioned kids right after the wedding.”
She recalled the conversationshed wanted time to enjoy being married first.
“James, I *do* want kids. Just not yet.”
“Mum says thats excuses. Modern women are selfish, apparently.”
“And *you* believe that?”
Another shrug. “Mums wise. Knows better.”
“Youre *thirty-two*. Cant you decide what *you* want in a wife?”
“I *can*. But why argue with Mum? She means well.”
Katie leaned back, eyes shut. Memories flashedJames consulting his mum on *everything*. Clothes, holidays, even the car colour.
Shed mistaken control for care.
“So what now?” she asked flatly.
“Mum says we should postpone.”
“Postponeor cancel?”
“Cancel. For now.”
“Until *what*?”
“Until you change.”
Katie opened her eyes. “So Ive got to become someone else for your mums approval?”
“Not someone else. Just more traditional.”
“Right. And if I wont?”
James spread his hands. “Then were done.”
A weight lifted off Katies shoulders.
“Yknow, James? Your mums right. We *arent* a match.”
“Waityou agree?”
“Completely. You need a wife wholl obey your mum. I need a man who thinks for himself.”
“But I *do* think for myself!”
“Sure. After running it by Mummy first.”
“Dont say that! I respect my elders.”
“James, your mums *three years* younger than mine. Yet she thinks she gets to pick who you love?”
“She wants me happy.”
“No. She wants you *hers*. Thats why shes sabotaged every girl youve dated.”
“Thats not true!”
“How many serious girlfriends before me?”
He hesitated. “Four. But”
“Let me guess,” Katie cut in. “One was too flighty, one too serious, one plain, one pretty but dim.”
James gaped. “Howd you?”
“Classic mummys boy script. Shell never let you go.”
He started the car, jaw tight. “Im taking you home.”
They rode in silence. Katie stared out the window, dreading telling Margaretcancelling vendors, returning the dress, explaining to guests.
But strangely, she felt *relief*. Like dodging a bullet.
At her flat, James stopped. “Katie maybe think it over? Talk to Mum?”
“No need, James. This *is* the right call.”
“But I *love* you!”
She almost pitied him. “No. You love the *idea* of marrying. You dont even *know* me.”
“Weve been together eighteen months!”
“And in eighteen months, you never stood up to your mum for me. Not
