Renee was flustered, apologetic, and clearly had been completely convinced this was some kind of joint family tradition my mother had described in detail.
I asked about the cancellation policy.
60 or more days out, 75% refund.
I was exactly 68 days out.
On a deposit of $22,000, that meant $16,500 back in my pocket if I walked away right now.
I hadn’t decided anything yet, but I wrote the number down.
That night, my phone lit up with a text from my mother.
“Did you see Rene’s email? Briana is so excited. Come to the house tonight. We’ll go over details together.”
Details for a wedding she had welded onto mine without asking me a single question.
Daniel and I drove out to my parents house in Cherry Creek that evening.
Both cars in the driveway told us everyone was already there waiting.
It felt less like a family dinner and more like an intervention aimed at the wrong person.
We walked in.
My mother sat at the head of the table, surrounded by fabric swatches and a printed seating chart already marked up in highlighter.
My cousin Briana jumped up the second she saw us.
“Isn’t this amazing? Our colors can compliment each other. Dusty blue and champagne. It’ll look incredible in photos.”
I stood in the doorway.
Daniel stood beside me, arms crossed.
“We are not sharing our wedding,” I said.
The room went dead silent.
My mother recovered first, smoothing her blouse like she was smoothing over the entire conversation.
“Honey, let’s be rational adults about this. You make good money. Briana and her fianceé have nothing saved. This is what family does.”