"Nita has always been a heavy eater." My mother began, trying to make excuses for the amount of food I was eating.
Food was my comfort, and in the situation I was currently in, I needed lots of food hugs.
"She likes to make her own food; carefully and perfectly. So, when she becos your daughter-in-law, you will need patience because her cooking takes hours."
Aren't we putting the cart before the horse? I thought. My mother was already months ahead, and I had not even t the groom yet.
Co on, Mom. Show so self-control.
I paused mid-bite of my food, glancing at her with raised eyebrows. She responded with a scowl.
You see, my mom wanted to act perfectly, eat perfectly, sit perfectly. She thought that she was doing a favor but I was the one doing them a favor or non selfishly put - doing 'us' a favor.
Mrs. Nuro chuckled, "I am surprised you have such a perfect figure, dear. How do you manage to stay in shape?"
She glanced sideways at , giving an appraising look but I could tell that she did not approve. I was dressed in a dress my mother had bought and I couldn't make the additional effort to make the dress stand out.
Even though I had agreed to this arrangent, It didn't an I liked it. It was like being a willing sacrifice heading to slaughter.
"Fast tabolism, I guess," I replied, reaching for my glass of water. As I drank, my father's gaze lingered on .
Guilt; written all over it. I gave him a thin smile, trying to reassure him silently.
His own lips curved upward, with sothing that would be considered a sorry excuse for a smile. He was Abraham, leading his child Isaac to the altar, both literally and figuratively.
Mr. Nuro, who was seated at the head of the table, cleared his throat and asked, "When did you say Junior would be arriving?" Mr Nuro was a man of few words but looked capable, although in the short ti we had been acquainted tonight, his wife seed to be his weakness.
"For the fiftieth ti, he said an hour ago," his wife responded, rolling her eyes, her fork clattering to the plate. Her beautifully manicured nails drumd the table in anxiety.
"It's fine," my mother chid in. "We're not in a hurry. Besides, Junior is taking over the company, isn't he? He must be busy."
Trust my mum to make excuses for soone who obviously didn't deserve it. Busy? Sure. Busy being late.
I rolled my eyes so hard they almost fell out of my head. They might not be in a hurry, but I was.
We had been waiting – what – two hours now.
Mrs. Nuro, however, seed to be on a roll. "Don't make excuses for him, Becky. He's always been that way. Never listens to , and does whatever he wants. Since his sister passed, he's been utterly impossible!" Her voice wobbled.
"Sweetie," Mr. Nuro said, gently patting her hand, "perhaps these aren't things Nita needs to hear right now." He held her gaze, the love for his wife radiating through.
"Oh, pish posh!" she exclaid. "She's practically family now! She should know what she's getting into."
She turned to her husband, her tone imdiately turning to that of woe, "Besides, you're the one who spoiled him, Richard. You let him get away with everything! Taking him to work instead of letting raise him properly. That's how children lose their values! Raised by secretaries and accountants..."
As she launched into her speech, my mother leaned toward . "Remind to use this next ti on your father," she whispered.
Mr. Nuro, desperate to restore order, threw down his napkin and grabbed his phone. His voice turned into a low growl as he barked into the receiver, "Junior, Do you have any idea how aggravated you are making your mother?... You have fifteen minutes to show up in this house, or I swear I'll make your life a living nightmare."
He gave his wife another worried look before continuing, "And trust , I'm very motivated."
Mrs. Nuro leaned toward , a wicked smile on her face. "Nuro wife rule number one," she whispered with a wink, "a little drama goes a long way."
I raised an eyebrow. "Good to know."
She nodded. "If you can cry on cue, you're already halfway there."
Just as I wondered how quickly I could escape through the nearest window, the butler entered. "Mr. Richard Junior has arrived."
About damn ti. If lateness were an Olympic sport, he'd have a gold dal.
Mrs. Nuro sprang into action, fluffing my hair. Before I could protest, she whipped out a lipstick from her purse and attacked my lips with it.
"There, now you're perfect!" she announced, beaming.
"Save ," I mouthed to my dad, whose smile seed to have genuinely widened. It took getting mauled by an old woman with red lipstick to get a smile from him; nowadays he rarely smiles; maybe because his company was going bankrupt or because he was giving his daughter out to save it like a trade-by-barter situation.
"Oh, darling," Mrs. Nuro said, cupping my face in her hands, "I hope he likes you."
I hope not, I thought, but I managed a weak smile.
The sound of confident footsteps approached; his cologne reached before he did—expensive and appealing.
I took a deep breath, preparing myself to face the man who I was being prepared to spend the rest of my life with.
"Good evening, everyone," ca his smooth, authoritative voice. "Apologies for my tardiness; I was busy tying up loose ends at work. There was no need to threaten my balls."
Mrs. Nuro let out a small groan in exasperation, covering her face with her hand. It was clear that her son seed to love embarrassing her.
Junior stepped to my left, heading to greet my mother with a bow. "Mrs. Williams, you're as radiant as ever. Are you sure I'm marrying the right woman?"
"Oh, aren't you charming," my mother giggled. My mother giggled. Are you kidding ? She sounded like a high school girl.
I would have to help her look for the sha she accidentally left back at ho. "You have grown up well. Last ti I saw you, you were what – five?"
"It's been too long; I am sure we will be spending more ti together these days with the current arrangent underway."
He turned to my father, going through his clear ritual of buttering everybody up. "Mr. Williams, I've heard great things about Wita. I'm sure we'll work wonderfully together."
Finally, he turned to . My heart pounded loud enough for to hear. I pushed back my chair and stood, determined to stay composed and collected.
"You must be the lovely Nita," he said, extending his hand.
"Actually, it's Benita," I corrected, shaking his hand firmly. Then I looked up at him—and froze.
My stomach did a backflip. It can't be!
It was him. The face I thought I'd never see again.
mories of our last encounter flooded my mind, and the room seed like it was spinning.
I don't know how long I stood there with my eyes wide open and mouth ajar. It seed like I had been kicked in the gut.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his smile fading slightly. I snatched my hand back quickly and looked around the room.
I had to get out of here.
"I..." The world went black.
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