Rula Sinara - Almost A Bride

Just stop it. She groaned and clenched her fists as she headed for the kitchen. She was doing it again—overanalyzing and spiraling through pointless reasons for what had happened to her and Gray. She hated it when she slid into this pattern. It had taken months for her to regain her focus after leaving him and starting graduate school. She was not going to let seeing him weaken her resolve. She steeled herself against the slurry of anger and sadness that pooled in her stomach. She took a glass from the cabinet by the fridge, filled it with cool water and drank half before setting it down.

No regrets. Nana’s voice swept through her mind with haunting clarity. The same words she would command Mandi to repeat like a mantra, whenever she was feeling down or torn about a decision. Regrets are like steel anchors. They’ll weigh you down and keep you from moving forward in life. Own every choice you make, and make it work for you.

Oh, she’d made her choice work for her alright. She would never regret earning her undergraduate college degree on her own terms. Studying online may not have been the same as getting a degree from a university her father could brag about, but it had saved her money. It had been the affordable option, and her master’s diploma from NYU was the one that counted now. Her father’s insistence that she study prelaw out of high school, then attend law school—all because he felt his political aspirations would have gone far beyond town mayor had he done the same—had resulted in her taking a gap year after high school. He had given her an ultimatum that he would pay for college only if she studied prelaw, which she had no inclination toward or desire to do.

That gap year had really ticked him off, but not nearly as much as her decision to put herself through a four-year advertising degree online, while working locally to support her goals. Her father had been downright furious. Turning down his money not only stole some of the power he had over her, but that gap year had also stripped him of bragging rights. His only child was the only one in her senior class whose intended college wasn’t announced at graduation. She had shamed him.

She never asked Nana for financial help either, though there was a time or two she wished her grandmother would have offered. All Nana ever told her was that she had faith in her and that Mandi could accomplish more than she knew she could. And she had. She’d accomplished something significant, but her father had yet to express any pride or approval in her degree. Had she married Gray the year she earned her diploma and found out she’d been accepted into a master’s program, she wouldn’t be on the verge of jump-starting her career right now. She took a deep breath and rolled the stiffness out of her shoulders.

Gray had not known she’d gotten accepted into NYU, yet he had made it clear that selling his vet practice and moving was out of the question. If she’d trusted his feelings for her, maybe she’d have given it all up for him or maybe she could have figured out how to make a long-distance marriage work for two years, but that hadn’t been the case. She didn’t leave him because of the master’s program. She left him because she couldn’t see a life with someone who wasn’t completely open and honest with her about everything.

You don’t regret leaving him. You’re just feeling alone because Nana’s gone.

She opened the pantry and took out another box of tissues. This was so unfair. Nana hadn’t said a word about being sick. Or had Mandi been so preoccupied with school and her career that she’d missed the signs? If she regretted anything, it was not being there for her grandmother.

She jolted when her phone alarm went off, then quickly silenced it and hurried to the guest room she was using while staying here. She glanced in the mirror and ran a comb briskly through her long, wavy hair. Her sun-kissed highlights were long gone and her face looked pale against the deeper brown. Unfortunately, her nose was as red and miserable as her eyes. She pinched her cheeks, then hurried to the sofa, where she’d thrown her purse last night. Years of avoiding a face-to-face with Gray, and now he was going to see her like this? She looked nothing like a successful graduate who’d just been offered her dream job with a top New York advertising firm. That was the impression she’d hoped to give. And why did that bother her so much?

She hated that one glimpse of Grayson on the beach had her worried about appearances and impressions...so much like her father. She just wanted people to see that she was okay and doing just fine for herself without Gray in her life. She didn’t want her father seeing her as weak and doubting that she could make it on her own without his money or connections. She wanted everyone who had been a part of her life to feel at least a little proud of her for making it on her own...even Gray. But she knew Gray hated her and she couldn’t blame him after what she’d done, yet a part of her yearned for him to wrap his arms around her and hold her until the pain of losing Nana became bearable. If it ever would.

She flipped the pillows on the sofa. Her keys had to be here somewhere. She distinctly remembered tossing them onto the purse. She shoved her hand between the sofa cushions. Yes. Her fingertips brushed against the pewter turtle that held the bundle of keys together. The doorbell rang. No.

She wasn’t expecting anyone. The image of Gray standing in the doorway flashed in her mind. She knew it was him. She just did. Her instincts screamed it. Her stomach twisted and her pulse skittered at the base of her throat. This would be so like him...wanting to give her his condolences in private, away from curious friends and family. Public displays of affection had always made him uncomfortable. It didn’t matter that this gathering was about loss. The fact that everyone in town knew their history practically guaranteed that behind all the sympathy would be curious eyes and gossip.

Gray was right. Getting this first encounter over with in private was the smart thing to do.

She shoved the keys in her pocket and took a deep breath as she went for the door and opened it.

“Mandi.”

“Dad?”

Her gut sank a few inches, but she wasn’t sure if it was relief or disappointment. Her father opened his arms and she complied. His embrace was anything but comforting. Maybe it was all in her head, but everything between them...even seemingly kind gestures on his part...always felt tainted with expectation or ulterior motive. Nonetheless, he was her father. Her only remaining family. That had to count for something. Mandi gave him a peck on the cheek and stepped back. He strode past her and stood in the center of the main room, his gaze darting around the place with purposeful efficiency.

“I thought we should drive over to the funeral together. Show how the Rivers are strong and will get through this together, as a family,” he said.

And there it was. Show. Keep up appearances. Mandi folded her arms around her waist.

“I’m so sorry about Nana, Dad. I know losing your mom must be hard on you.”

“Yes. Thank you. Same to you, sweetheart. I know you were close. And I realize that you were so young when your mother left, you probably don’t remember what it was like having her around. It’s different when you’ve been around someone day in and day out your entire life, like Nana, and then, suddenly, they’re gone. I know she was old, but still. It hurts.”

Leave it to her dad to put the color back in her face. It irked her to no end that he’d assume that she had no memories of her mother or that her leaving so abruptly hadn’t left a scar. How many times had she, as a little girl, wondered if she’d caused her mother to leave, even if Nana had assured her that wasn’t the case? Besides, Nana had been like both a mother and grandmother to her. More of a parent than John Rivers had been, for sure. He had always put his work first, whether it was when he was town mayor or, now, as a real estate investor. For him, life was about money and success. All he had ever cared about were Mandi’s grades and future career.