I thought my mom’s wedding at 70 would be a simple, heartfelt affair. But that shifted when she snatched the microphone and announced an odd rule for whoever caught her bouquet. I edged back, hoping to dodge it. Yet somehow, it ended up—right in my grasp.
I stood in the kitchen, watching my mom bustle around the table. She was arranging place cards, straightening napkins, and muttering about colors like they were the center of the universe.
She looked radiant—truly beaming. Meanwhile, I still couldn’t wrap my head around this actually happening.
“Mom, really? You’re seventy-nine and tying the knot?”
She glanced up, grinning like I hadn’t said anything odd.
“Oh, don’t give me that look, dear. This isn’t the end—it’s the start of something fresh!”
She looked like she did in her twenties. Her eyes danced with that same fiery spirit. You couldn’t win a debate with her, no matter how hard you tried.
“Mom, why now? You’re doing perfectly fine on your own.”
“Who says I want to be by myself?”
My mom always did exactly what she pleased.
“I know your marriage ended rough, and you’ve given up on love. But I haven’t. Walter makes me laugh. He makes me feel alive again.”
I exhaled. She was bold, headstrong, and fearless. Once she set her mind on something, there was no stopping her.
“So the wedding’s really happening?”
“Invitations mailed, dress chosen, menu set.”
“This is what life’s for,” she smiled. “And you need to embrace it instead of running from it.”
I bit my tongue. She always knew how to bring up my divorce at the worst moment.
I remembered the day my husband walked out. I came home as usual and saw his bags by the door. He said he’d fallen for someone younger. Someone “lively.”
After that, I felt like love was just a lie—a tale people spun to feel better. I’d spent years rebuilding myself. I didn’t need anyone.
“You know,” my mom said, pulling me from my thoughts, “I’ve planned something special at the wedding for my favorite girls.”
“You, and my granddaughters.”
She smirked. I had a sinking feeling.
“Don’t worry. You’ll love it,” she waved off.
I wasn’t convinced.
==========================
On the wedding day, driving to the grand estate where it was held, the universe reminded me I wasn’t in control.
My tire blew out in the middle of nowhere. No gas station. No cars. Just me, bad luck, and a phone with no bars.
I got out, sighed, and was about to call for help when a sleek pickup truck pulled up beside me.
I rolled my eyes before even seeing who it was.
The man was tall, sturdy, with dark hair and an irritating grin.
“My tire’s flat,” I said, not hiding my annoyance.
“No problem. Give me five minutes.”
“Great. But don’t think I’ll trust you just because you can fix a tire.”
He chuckled. “Elliot. And I’m not asking for trust, just a wrench.”
“I’m not in the mood for humor,” I grumbled.
From the passenger seat of his truck, a blonde woman leaned out and shouted, “Seriously, Elliot?”
He waved. “One sec, Clara!”
She shot me a dirty look before sinking back into her seat.
I crossed my arms. Just my luck. Another guy, another messy situation. I didn’t care. I just wanted to get to the wedding.
===============================
The wedding was extravagant. My mom looked like royalty. Walter couldn’t stop beaming. Everyone laughed, danced, and had a blast. Then, my mom grabbed the mic.
“Time for the bouquet toss!”
Cheers erupted. My nieces dashed forward, eager to catch it.
“And whoever catches it will win my special emerald ring!”
The crowd gasped with excitement.
“But there’s one catch,” she added, raising a finger. “The winner must go on a date—with someone I pick!”
“Oh no,” I muttered, stepping back.
Then she turned, winked at me, and tossed the bouquet—straight at me. I wasn’t quick enough. It landed right in my arms.
Silence. Then applause.
I stood frozen while my mom grinned. “Congrats!”
“This is a prank,” I mumbled.
“Nope. A deal’s a deal.”
“Who’s my date?” I asked.
Her smile widened. “Elliot! Come on up!”
I turned. That Elliot. He strode up with a cocky grin.
“Well, looks like fate chose me.”
Behind him, Clara looked livid.
I faced my mom. “No way.”
She grabbed my arm and whispered, “Just once, darling. For me. As a gift.”
Before I could argue, she waved Elliot over and vanished into the crowd.
Elliot leaned in. “So, when’s our date?”
“Let’s just get it over with. One date. That’s all.”
“Great. You name the time and place.”
“Saturday. 7 p.m. Bella’s downtown.”
“Classy,” he grinned.
“Now excuse me. I need to forget this happened.”
As I walked away, I saw Elliot head toward Clara. He whispered something, took her hand, and danced with her.
I didn’t stay for the cake. I just left, one thought in my mind:
Why is my mom putting me through this?
Saturday night arrived. I got to the café ten minutes early, ready to get it done.
Elliot showed up right on time.
In a crisp shirt and jeans, he looked annoyingly good. He smiled and sat across from me.
“Wow. You actually came. I thought you’d leave a note and vanish.”
“I considered it.”
“So, how was your day?”
“Before or after I regretted agreeing to this?”
He laughed.
“That’s why I like you. You’re straightforward. It’s refreshing.”
I sighed. “I’m only here because of my mom. One date. No expectations. No dreams.”
But he was surprisingly easy to talk to. We chuckled a bit. He teased about the wedding. I hated to admit it, but he was kind of charming.
Then his phone rang. He ignored it. It rang again.
“Sorry, one second,” he said, stepping away.
I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I heard, “Hey, Clara… I know. Relax…”
Then, “I’ll be there soon. Hang on.”
He came back looking troubled. “Sorry, I have to go.”
“Clara?”
“Yeah.”
“Of course.”
He dropped some cash on the table. “Sorry. I know this is…”
“Don’t worry. We’re done. No second date.”
“Really? Just like that?”
I gave him a flat stare. “If you’re going to run off to another woman mid-date, at least be discreet.”
He opened his mouth but stopped, sighed, and left.
I stared at my coffee. Elliot. Clara. Of course.
Mom’s matchmaking had flopped. I never expected her to pair me with a guy who couldn’t even finish one date.
Whatever. Not my issue anymore.
Or so I thought…
The next morning, flowers arrived at my office.
Pink roses. A card:
“Hope you’re not allergic. –Elliot”
I groaned and tossed them out.
The next day, more flowers.
“Secret admirer?” a coworker teased.
“More like someone who can’t take a hint,” I said, leaving them in the breakroom.
A week passed with no reply from me. Then my mom called.
“Dinner tonight. My place.”
“Mom…”
“No excuses. You left the wedding too soon. Come.”
I gave in.
Her patio smelled incredible. For a moment, I thought maybe it was just a regular dinner.
Then I saw Elliot. Flipping burgers.
And Clara. Right behind him.
My frustration flared.
Before I could bolt, Mom grabbed me. “Darling! You made it!”
“What is he doing here?”
“I invited him,” she smiled. “You two need a do-over.”
“No thanks. I already know enough.”
“Then you won’t mind dinner,” she said, nudging me forward.
Elliot saw me. “Look who stopped dodging me.”
Clara huffed. “Can we eat already?”
Mom clapped. “First, Elliot has something to say.”
Elliot sighed, set down the spatula. “Let me introduce you to someone.”
“I know Clara,” I said icily. “She was all over you at the wedding.”
Elliot shook his head. “Not like that.”
He put his hand on her shoulder. “She’s my daughter.”
Clara rolled her eyes.
“I know I look too old to be his kid. But trust me—I’ve put up with him for eighteen long years.”
I froze. Elliot scratched his head.
“My wife passed when Clara was six. It’s been just us. And… she’s not big on sharing me.”
“You’re annoying,” Clara said.
“So you two weren’t…”
“Dating?” Elliot laughed. “No way.”
Clara made a gagging noise. “Gross.”
She sat across from me. “You’re not awful. And honestly, Dad needs to move on. If you can tolerate him, go on another date.”
Elliot raised an eyebrow. “See? Even my daughter agrees.”
I smiled—just a bit. “Maybe. But first, let’s eat.”
“Best thing you’ve said all night.”
We ate, laughed, and talked like regular people. And somehow, I realized something surprising:
Maybe… just maybe… I was finally ready to open my heart again.
