When my fiancée and I started planning our wedding, I thought the biggest headaches would be choosing between chocolate or vanilla cake or picking the right venue. I never dreamed the real issue would be about the person who mattered most to memy daughter.
At 45, I wasnt some lovesick fool anymore. Id been married before, gone through a messy divorce, and come out the other side with the best thing in my lifemy 11-year-old daughter, Emily.
She was sharp, quick-witted, and tougher than most grown-ups I knew. Shed handled the divorce like an absolute champ, and I swore shed never take second place to anyone.
When I met Rebecca, my now ex-fiancée, she seemed perfect. At 39, she was warm, kind, and for four whole years, she acted like she truly cared about Emily.
Wed cook Sunday roasts together, binge telly on the sofa, and stay up too late giggling over silly stuff. Proposing to Rebecca felt right. She said yes with happy tears, and for a while, I thought life couldnt get better.
Rebecca threw herself into wedding planning like it was a royal affair. Venues in the Cotswolds, bouquets, dressesshe obsessed over every last detail like it was a bridal magazine shoot.
But I figured, if it made her happy, why not?
Then came the night that changed everything.
We were sprawled on the couch, flipping through fabric samples, when Rebecca said, I want my little cousin to be the flower girl. Shell look absolutely precious.
Brilliant, I said. Emily would love to be a flower girl too.
Rebeccas smile dropped. I dont think Emily really suits the role, she said, cool as anything.
I stared at her. What? Shes my daughter. Of course shes in the wedding.
Rebecca folded her arms. The wedding partys my decision, and Emilys not being a flower girl.
It felt like a slap. If Emilys not in the wedding, I said, my voice tight, then there wont be one.
That night, I took Emily out for ice cream. She kicked her feet under the table and whispered, I think Ill look nice in whatever dress Rebecca picks. My chest ached.
Later, Rebeccas mum texted: Youre making a mountain out of a molehill. Your daughter doesnt need to be in the wedding. Thats when it hit meeverything with Rebecca was a lie.
The next morning, she finally came clean. Shed hoped after the wedding, Id just be a dad on weekends. She didnt want Emily in the photos because itd be awkward when she wasnt around anymore.
You wanted me to give her up? I snapped. Emily comes firstalways. You knew that.
Rebecca cried, saying she thought Id ease off once we were married. I slid the ring off her finger and set it down. I wont marry someone who treats my kid like shes disposable.
Her mum showed up later, fuming. Youre throwing away your future over a child wholl move on someday! she hissed. I shut the door in her face.
That evening, Emily sat at the table, doodling. She held up a sketch of us under a big red heart. My throat clenched. There wont be a wedding anymore, I told her softly.
Because of me? she asked.
Never, I said. Its off because Rebecca doesnt get how much you mean to me. If someone cant love us both, they dont deserve either of us.
Emily was quiet, then whispered, So its just us again?
Just us. Always.
A small smile crept back. I like that better.
I grinned. Good. Because guess what? That honeymoon we booked in Cornwallyou and me are taking it. Just us, beach walks, fish and chips, and all the ice cream you want.
She squealed, bouncing in her seat. Best honeymoon ever!
I hugged her tight, knowing Id lost a fiancée but kept what really matteredmy girl. Some loves come with strings. But a parents love? Thats forever.
And when Emily whispered, Its you and me for always, yeah? I kissed her head and said, Always, Em. Always.
