This was the woman who’d raised him alone after his father died unexpectedly. Who’d worked sixteen-hour shifts at the hospital so he could have piano lessons and summer camps and new school clothes every year. Who’d held him through countless nightmares and homework struggles and his first real heartbreak when Sarah Miller broke up with him during junior year. Who’d refinanced her house twice to help pay for his college education when the scholarships didn’t cover everything. Who’d driven four hours in the dark that very morning just to be present for this moment.
“Dominic.” Her throat was tightening with each word. “I drove four hours to be here. I haven’t done anything wrong. I’ve barely even—”
“Bridget thinks it would be better if you left,” he interrupted, his voice dropping lower as if he didn’t want anyone nearby to overhear. As if he felt some small amount of shame but not enough to actually stop. “She says you’re controlling. That you try to run everything. That you’ve been giving her hostile looks all day.”
Controlling.
The word echoed in Karin’s head like an accusation.
She’d given Bridget complete space when they started dating. She’d bitten her tongue when Bridget moved into her guest room for six months and never once offered to help with groceries or utility bills. She’d smiled and nodded when Bridget picked out a wedding venue that cost forty thousand dollars and then asked if Karin could contribute financially.
She’d contributed eight thousand dollars. Eight thousand dollars that represented every extra shift she could physically handle at the hospital. Every night she came home too exhausted to eat dinner. Every morning she woke up with her back aching and her feet swollen from standing all day.
And apparently she’d given hostile looks. She’d tried to control everything.
“Bridget’s waiting for you to leave,” Dominic continued. He glanced back toward the head table where his new bride sat watching them.
Karin followed his gaze. Bridget sat there in her expensive white lace and flowing veil, observing the confrontation. Her face appeared calm and pleasant, but her eyes were sharp and calculating. She held a champagne flute in one perfectly manicured hand and wore a small, tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes at all. A smile like a weapon.
“She’s upset,” Dominic said. “This is her special day. I don’t want her feeling stressed.”
Her special day. Not their special day. Not our special day. Just hers.
Karin looked at her son. Really looked at him properly. At the man he’d become over twenty-four years. College educated, working a good marketing position at a Denver tech company, living in a nice apartment with his new wife. He looked successful, put together, like someone who had life completely figured out.
But standing there in his expensive wedding venue wearing his perfectly tailored suit, asking his mother to leave because his bride didn’t like her presence, he looked like a complete stranger.
“Are you absolutely sure about this?” Karin’s voice came out steady and calm. She had no idea how she managed it. “Are you completely sure?”
“Yes.” No hesitation whatsoever. Not even a pause to consider. “Just go. We’ll talk about it later.”
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