Family support.
That phrase has emptied more bank accounts than armed robbery.
She turned to the mood board. White peonies. Rare orchids. Walls of roses. Cascading greenery. It looked like a botanical garden had exploded in a ballroom.
“I want a winter wonderland,” she said, eyes shining. “But romantic. Elegant. In June. So the peonies come from Holland and the orchids get flown in two days before the ceremony.”
“That sounds expensive,” I said.
“Quality costs,” Connor said. “Something you may not understand with your department-store lifestyle, but in our world, presentation matters.”
My mother nodded as if he had quoted scripture.
Tiana tapped the spreadsheet.
“The florist quoted us this morning,” she said. “Honestly, it’s a steal.”
I leaned forward.
$45,000.
“Tiana,” I said slowly, “that is forty-five thousand dollars just for flowers.”
“For the flowers, the installation, the teardown, and preserving my bridal bouquet,” she corrected. “It’s a package.”
“That is more than some people make in a year.”
“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” my mother snapped. “This is your sister’s special day. She is the first one in this family marrying into real status. We need to make a good impression on Connor’s family.”
I looked at Connor.
If he had so much status, why was I being shown the bill?
“So,” I said, leaning back, “why are you showing me this?”
The table went silent.
Tiana looked at my mother.
My mother looked at Connor.
Connor looked at his ticking watch.
“Well,” Tiana said, her voice dropping into the wheedling tone I had known since childhood, “Mom’s money is tied up in house renovations, and Connor’s assets are illiquid.”
Illiquid.
The official language of broke people pretending to be rich.
Connor took over. “We discussed it and decided that, as the big sister, it would be a beautiful gesture for you to sponsor the floral arrangements.”
“Sponsor,” I repeated.
“Think of it as your wedding gift,” Tiana said, smiling brightly. “You never go on vacations. You don’t buy nice clothes. You probably have that much just sitting around.”
My mother leaned in, face solemn. “To whom much is given, much is expected. You have no children. Your husband works in computers. You have your steady little job. It is time you stepped up for this family.”
There it was.
My empty house.
My childlessness.
The quiet grief I had carried through miscarriages and treatments and nights spent crying into Malik’s chest.
My family always found the softest place to press.
I took a slow sip of iced tea.
“No,” I said.
Tiana blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I’m not paying forty-five thousand dollars for flowers. Not forty-five thousand. Not four thousand. Not forty.”
My mother gasped. “Francesca, after everything we’ve done for you?”
“You gave birth to me,” I said. “That is not a lifelong invoice.”
Connor’s hand hit the table hard enough to rattle the silverware. “Listen, Francesca. Maybe you don’t understand how these things work, but this wedding is happening. We already told the florist the payment would come from your account.”
My blood went cold…. Continue Ending Blow
