Translation: they hadn’t discussed this with Tyler, but they were using his people-pleasing nature against me.
“I need to hear this from him,” I said, turning toward the door.
My father grabbed my arm. “Don’t make a scene, Calhain. Not tonight.”
I shook him off. “I’m not going to confront him at his rehearsal dinner. I’m not you.”
Inside, I found Laura by the bar, concern evident in her expression.
“We’re leaving,” I told her quietly.
“What happened?” she asked, setting down her drink.
“I’ll explain in the car.”
As we made our excuses and headed for the exit, Tyler intercepted us.
“You’re going already?” he asked, disappointment clear in his voice.
“Early meeting tomorrow,” I lied. “The dinner was lovely.”
Tyler wasn’t fooled. “Is everything okay? You seem upset.”
I wanted to tell him everything, to ask if he knew what our parents were doing. But looking at him in his tailored suit, surrounded by his future in-laws and influential connections, I couldn’t bring myself to burden him.
“Everything’s fine,” I assured him. “We’ll talk after the honeymoon, okay?”
He nodded, though his expression remained concerned. “I’m really glad you’re going to be there next weekend. It wouldn’t feel right without you.”
His words twisted the knife deeper. Tyler wanted me there, but our parents were actively trying to remove me from the equation.
The drive home was silent until Laura finally spoke.
“What did they say to you?”
I recounted the conversation verbatim, my voice hollow.
“That’s beyond favoritism,” Laura said, anger evident in her tone. “That’s emotional abuse, Cal.”
“Twenty-seven years of it,” I agreed. “And I’ve been taking it, making excuses, trying harder. For what? So they can tell me the best thing I can do for my brother is disappear.”
“What are you going to do?”
I stared out at the darkened highway. “I don’t know yet.”
But by morning, I did know.
After a sleepless night, I called Tyler and asked to meet him for coffee alone. We arranged to meet at a quiet café midway between our homes. He arrived looking tired, with the slightly frazzled appearance of someone deep in wedding preparations.
“Thanks for making time,” I said as he sat down.
“Of course. What’s going on, Cal? You seemed off last night.”
I took a deep breath. “I need to ask you something important, and I need you to be completely honest.”
He nodded, suddenly serious.
“Do you want me at your wedding?”
His eyes widened. “What? Of course I do. Why would you even ask that?”
“Because Mom and Dad don’t. They’ve made that very clear.”
Tyler’s expression cycled through confusion, disbelief, and finally uncomfortable recognition. “They’ve been weird about the guest list,” he admitted. “But I never thought…”
“They told me last night that the greatest gift I could give you would be to step back and not attend. That my presence would complicate things with the Montgomerys and their connections.”
Tyler’s face flushed with embarrassment. “Cal, I had no idea. I never asked them to do that. I would never.”
“I know you wouldn’t,” I assured him. “But the question is, what are you going to do about it?”
He looked down at his untouched coffee. “I’ll talk to them. Tell them this isn’t acceptable.”
“And if they don’t listen? If they continue trying to push me out…”
Tyler’s silence told me everything. He wouldn’t stand up to them. Not really. He never had.
“It’s your wedding,” I said finally. “If you want me there, I’ll be there. But I need you to be clear with them about that.”
“I will,” he promised. “Right after this, I’ll call them.”
We parted with an awkward hug, and I drove back to Boston with a heavy heart. I knew Tyler meant well, but I also knew our parents. They would steamroll his objections, use guilt and manipulation, and ultimately get their way.