Chapter 8: Weddings and New Beginnings

After that, I attended both my brothers’ wedding receptions in turn.

First Derek’s, then Caleb’s—each a headline event. My tux barely had time to cool off between parties.

Derek was made head of the family business, Caleb took over the foundation, both married with great fanfare.

Their weddings were the talk of the season. Gifts piled high, speeches went on forever, and the guest list read like a who’s-who of American politics.

The band played ‘Shout’ and the dance floor turned into a mosh pit of tuxes and high heels. The spectacle was dazzling—jewels and treasures everywhere, designer dresses and tuxes in every color, rare art and calligraphy, all gleaming so brightly my eyes watered.

The ballroom was so bright I kept my sunglasses in my pocket, just in case. Even the cake had gold leaf. I tried not to drool over the caviar.

Noah covered my mouth, whispering in my ear:

He clamped a hand over my lips and hissed, “Keep it together, man. This is not the time to turn into Scrooge McDuck.”

“Hold it in, swallow your drool. I know you love money, but on such a happy day, at least try to keep your dignity.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying not to stare at the stack of envelopes piling up for the newlyweds.

I nodded furiously, as if each nod would earn me a fortune.

He shot me a look—half exasperated, half amused. “Focus, Jason. You’ll get your own day.”

Time flowed like water through a crack, and finally it was my turn to get married.

It all moved so fast—one minute I was in the audience, the next I was standing at the altar, heart pounding, Mom squeezing my hand.

Before the wedding, I was given the title of CEO of a small subsidiary and a new house.

It wasn’t the family’s crown jewel, but it was something to call my own. A starter company, a starter home—the kind of thing you can grow into.

Though not as extravagant as my brothers’, it wasn’t shabby either—at least better than what Dad had back in his day.

The kitchen had granite countertops, the yard had space for a hammock. It was more than I expected, less than the tabloids would have guessed.

Well, what can you do? Grandpa had so many sons, but Dad only has three.

With a smaller family, you don’t have to slice the pie so thin. Even the third son gets a little something.

At least until the next family head is decided, things won’t be too lopsided—got to avoid giving people something to gossip about.

Every move is scrutinized—can’t let anyone claim I got shortchanged. Optics matter, even when you’d rather just be left alone.

I got the keys and brought Mom to check out the new place.

We drove over in her old sedan, Mom clapping her hands with excitement. I let her open the door first.

The house had high ceilings and crown molding, winding hallways, a sunroom, and a small backyard garden.

She walked from room to room, running her hand over the banister, peeking into closets, dreaming up new paint colors. She paused at the sunroom, sunlight warming her face.

The doors and windows were bright, tables and chairs spotless, both elegant and welcoming.

Mom said it felt like home already—like a place where good things could happen.

Mom touched this, admired that, smiling until tears ran down her cheeks.

She tried to hide it, but I saw her dab her eyes with her sleeve, pretending she just had dust in her eye.

After walking the whole place, my legs were numb, but she wasn’t tired at all.

I collapsed on the couch; she flitted from room to room, humming to herself, already plotting where the Christmas tree would go.

When everyone was gone, Mom turned her back, quietly looking up at the sky:

She pressed her hand to her heart and whispered, “Mom, Jason’s getting married. You can rest easy now!”

I knew Mom was missing my grandma.

Grandma Lillian—gone, but never forgotten. She was the anchor in Mom’s life, and I think she hoped I’d find someone to fill that same space.

She and the Montgomery girl were both kids who lost their mothers early, suffered much coldness, sat on many cold benches, ate many cold meals, and only now have seen their hardships come to an end.

Their paths were similar—two quiet survivors, finding solace in new beginnings. Maybe that’s why Mom was so set on this match.

Ah, don’t worry.

I wanted to promise her that everything would be okay. I hoped she could see it in my eyes.

I’ll take good care of my wife from now on.

If there’s one thing I can do right, it’s not repeating the mistakes of the past.