That night, I made lasagna from scratch, memorized everyone’s names, and laughed at jokes I didn’t fully understand.
Jason’s mom, Claudette, gave me an air kiss and immediately launched into organizing place settings. His dad, Grant, didn’t say much but eyed me like I was something he hadn’t ordered off the menu. As for his sister Ivy, she smiled and complimented my shoes while staring at my chipped nail polish.
Spoiler: I never was.
It started at our wedding.
The photographer was clicking away, directing people left and right.
I was standing next to Jason, clutching my bouquet, when Claudette came up and gently tugged at my elbow.
“Oh, sweetheart, would you mind stepping aside for just a moment?” she cooed. “We need one with just the immediate family.”
I blinked. “But…
I’m the bride.”
“Yes, of course, and you’ll have your bridal shots later. This one’s just a little tradition of ours. You understand.”
