Saying I Do {Interracial Curvy Romance}

Invitations and Indecisions

Matthew

The car jerks to a stop, and Tabitha bursts out, slamming the door behind her. The sound echoes in the quiet street, a sharp crack in the still afternoon. I'm left staring at the now-empty passenger seat, where her perfume still lingers—a bitter mix of roses and something acidic. My heart pounds in my chest, and I can't tell if it's from the suddenness of her exit or the weight of what just happened.

I glance at Daphne, who's sitting in the back seat. She's got her hands clasped in her lap, her expression carefully neutral. It's the kind of look you'd give a live grenade, hoping it doesn't explode but knowing it very well might.

"Well, that went well," I say, my voice laced with sarcasm as I try to diffuse the tension in the air. But Daphne doesn't laugh. Instead, she sighs softly and meets my eyes in the rear-view mirror.

"Matthew, I'm sorry," she says, and I can tell she means it. "I didn't think Tabitha would react like that."

Neither did I. But then again, I should have known better. Tabitha's jealousy when it comes to Flora has always been there since middle school, simmering just beneath the surface. I thought, maybe foolishly, that with our wedding so close, she'd be able to set it aside, at least for now. Clearly, I was wrong.

"It's not your fault, Daphne," I reply, starting the car again. "Tabitha's just... she's just under a lot of stress."

Daphne doesn't say anything to that, but the look she gives me says more than words could. I know what she's thinking because I'm thinking it too. Stress doesn't justify the way Tabitha's been acting. But I'm not ready to admit that out loud, not yet.

We drive in silence for a while, the tension slowly dissipating but never quite going away. I can still feel the remnants of Tabitha's anger, like a shadow hanging over us. It doesn't help that we're supposed to be on our way to pick out designs for the wedding rehearsal invitations—one more thing that Tabitha's now refused to be a part of because of Flora.

Flora, who has been nothing but supportive and helpful throughout this whole process. Flora, who I've known since I was a little, is practically family. But to Tabitha, Flora is nothing more than a threat, a reminder that there was someone else in my life before her. And that's something she can't stand.

When we arrive at the studio, Tabitha is nowhere to be seen. I didn't expect her to come back, not after the way she stormed off, but I still find myself looking around, hoping maybe she changed her mind. We step out of the car and make our way into the stationery shop. The door chimes softly as we enter, and a wave of cool air greets us.

"I guess it's just us," Daphne says, breaking the silence. There's a note of hesitation in her voice, like she's unsure if this is okay.

"It's fine," I say, more to convince myself than her. "We'll just... we'll pick out something she'll like, and I'll show her later."

Daphne nods, but I can see the doubt in her eyes. We both know Tabitha won't be happy no matter what we choose. But there's nothing we can do about that now.

Inside, the studio is warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the chill in the air outside. The walls are lined with samples—invitation designs, color swatches, ribbons, and more. It should be overwhelming, but instead, it feels like a welcome distraction from the chaos of the day.

A woman greets us with a bright smile, and Daphne quickly takes the lead, explaining what we're looking for. I let her handle it, my mind still on Tabitha, on the way she looked at me before she walked away. There was something in her eyes—fear, maybe, or desperation. Or maybe I'm just imagining it.