P.S. (Please Stay)

Twelve

"So I spoke to the venue and they are refusing to remove that hideous brown curtain by the washroom doors, so your father will go in early and tack the black curtains from Stephanie's wedding in front of them. I loathe to use black instead of white, but I suppose it will have to do."

"Mm-hmm..." Olivia hummed, scrolling through the Pinterest app on her phone. She still wasn't quite sure how to use the app, but managed to take screenshots of the ideas she liked – which were few and far between.

"And the caterers are providing proper china, but they insist on charging extra. They said there's no charge to use paper plates, can you believe it? They must think you're getting married in a barn!"

Olivia sighed. "They very idea!" she replied with mock disbelief. She refrained from telling her mother the ranch on the other side of town hosted weddings for half the price of the golf club and the barn made quite a lovely backdrop for photos. Denise would be aghast and it would only perpetuate the wedding talk Olivia was so desperate to finish. For someone who suggested Olivia not marry Ben just a few months prior, Denise was fast becoming a mother-of-the-bridezilla.

Denise matched Olivia's sigh. "Olivia, you know I just want your special day to be perfect. Paper plates are not perfect. Besides, this is a traditional affair, what with Ben being an RCMP officer. I cannot imagine him and his honour guards sitting in a barn, eating off newspapers while dressed in their Red Serge. It's just horrifying!"

Olivia rubbed her fingers against her forehead. "I agreed with you," she reminded Denise. "I mean, first paper plates, then what? We're all jamming with spoons and washboards and making out with our cousins while cows chew on their cud right behind us? Ugh, I just can't!"

Denise furrowed her brow. "I know when you're being sarcastic, dear," she reminded Olivia. She picked up Olivia's notebook and thumbed through it. "I suppose we could stop – Oh!" Denise exclaimed, surprised as Olivia snatched the notebook from her hands.

"It's private," Olivia told her mother, breaking eye contact as she tucked the book beside her. She didn't need Denise to read the countless unsent letters Olivia had written to Harry. No one could ever read those.

"It says 'Mr and Mrs' on the cover," Denise pointed out. "Is it not a wedding planner?"

"I said, it's private," Olivia repeated. "It's, uhm... like, vows and speeches and shit... Stuff that I don't want you to hear until then. So don't snoop," Olivia added, shifting her position, so she was sitting on top of the clandestine notebook.

Denise smiled. "That's sweet," she said. "I'm sure the speeches will be lovely. You've really been putting your relationship with Ben first, and I'm proud of you. I was wrong in saying you shouldn't marry Ben. The two of you will be very happy together."

Olivia winced at Denise's words. She didn't need to hear how proud Denise was – though it was satisfying to hear her say she was wrong. Denise was far from wrong, but Olivia wouldn't be telling her that. She would keep pretending she was making the right choice and keep talking about centrepieces and dress hemlines.

"Thanks, Mom..." Olivia mumbled. "Uhm, hey, what time was Dad's tee time today? He should be finishing up soon, eh?" Olivia was desperate for Denise to leave. She couldn't handle another minute of wedding planning.

Denise glanced at the wall clock. "Oh, dear, you're probably right," she answered, standing up. "We're having dinner with Jack and Sharon tonight... Do you want to join us?"

Olivia shook her head. Any time her parents visited the coast, they insisted on having dinner with her father's former colleague. Jack was the single most boring person Olivia had ever met, and his wife Sharon was an obnoxious drunk. Olivia would rather sit through seven consecutive viewings of every Adam Sandler movie ever made than sit through a meal with the two of them.