Paige didn't ask me to explain everything at once.
She took my arm and guided me into the bridal room, closing the door behind us.
The room was small, with a mirror above a narrow counter and several chairs pushed against the wall.
My bouquet rested beside a bottle of water.
A few bobby pins lay near the mirror.
Everything looked exactly as it had when I'd left.
That made it harder to believe anything had changed.
Paige turned toward me.
"Tell me what happened."
I sat down carefully, trying not to crush the skirt of my dress.
Then I told her.
I explained that I'd heard Seth talking to Heather.
I repeated what he'd said about the children.
I told her he'd promised that I'd leave the dental office and start watching all three kids on Monday morning.
I told her Heather had already canceled daycare.
Paige listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she remained quiet for several seconds.
Then she asked, "Did you ever tell him you wanted to do this?"
"No."
"Did he ask you?"
"No."
She nodded slowly.
"Then what exactly is he expecting you to agree to?"
I looked down at my hands.
That was the question I couldn't answer.
I could explain his reasoning.
Heather needed help.
The children needed somewhere to go.
Seth believed family should support family.
I understood all of those things.
But understanding why someone wanted something didn't mean I had agreed to provide it.
"I think he believes I'll change my mind once we're married," I said.
Paige sat in the chair beside me.
"Has he said that before?"
I thought about it.
Not in those exact words.
Seth had sometimes talked about marriage as if certain decisions would naturally become his responsibility.
He liked to say he was practical.
He liked to believe he could see the sensible answer before anyone else did.
When we disagreed, he often assumed I would eventually recognize that his way made more sense.
Usually, I tried to meet him halfway.
Sometimes I changed my mind.
Sometimes he did.
I had thought that was what compromise looked like.
Now I wondered whether he had begun to see my willingness to compromise as permission to decide for me.
"I don't know," I admitted.
Paige leaned forward.
"Then don't decide anything just because you're standing in a wedding dress."
I looked at her.
She wasn't telling me to leave him.
She wasn't telling me to go through with the ceremony.
She was giving me permission to think.
That should have been easy.
It wasn't.
Seventy people had come to see us get married.
My mother had been talking about the wedding for months.
We'd chosen the flowers together, discussed the music, and spent evenings deciding which people should sit where.
I'd written my vows in a notebook and revised them several times because I wanted them to sound like me.
I'd imagined standing in front of Seth and promising to build a life with him.
I hadn't imagined sitting in a bridal room wondering whether he believed I was allowed to say no.
"What if he's just panicking?" I asked.
Paige considered that.
"Then he can explain himself."
"What if he really thinks this is best for everyone?"
"That doesn't mean he's allowed to decide it for you."
I rubbed my thumb across the edge of my bracelet.
My mother had fastened it herself.
I could still feel the pressure of her fingers as she'd clasped it around my wrist.
She'd looked at me afterward with such open happiness that I hadn't wanted to think about anything that could go wrong.
I didn't want to hurt her.
I didn't want to embarrass Seth.
I didn't want Heather to feel that I'd abandoned her children.
And I didn't want to lose the life I'd imagined with the man I'd loved for three years.
All those fears crowded together until I could hardly separate them.
Paige noticed me looking at the bracelet.
"You're allowed to be upset," she said.
I gave a short laugh.
"I know."
"Do you?"
I looked away.
That question stung because I wasn't sure.
I'd spent so much time trying to be fair to everyone that I'd started treating my own needs as the least important part of every decision.
If Heather needed help, I wanted to help.
If Seth was stressed, I wanted to make things easier.
If my mother was excited, I wanted her to enjoy the day.
None of those feelings was wrong.
But I had reached a point where I was trying to protect everyone from disappointment, even if it meant accepting a future I hadn't chosen.
Paige picked up the bottle of water and handed it to me.
"Drink something."
I took a few sips.
My hands had begun to shake.
"What am I supposed to do?" I asked.
"I can't decide that for you."
"I know."
"But I can tell you one thing."
She waited until I looked at her.
"Don't let the wedding decide for you."
I stared at the water bottle.
The wedding had become a kind of deadline.
Because the guests were waiting, I felt I had to make a decision quickly.
Because my dress was on, I felt I had to walk down the aisle.
Because the flowers were paid for and the music was ready, I felt as though the day itself had become a promise I was obligated to keep.
But none of those things could tell me whether Seth respected me.
None of them could tell me what he would expect next.
I set the bottle down.
"I need to talk to him again."
Paige nodded.
"Then talk to him."
I stood carefully and smoothed the front of my dress.
Paige came over to check the back, where the loose hook had been bothering me earlier.
She fixed it with two small movements.
"There," she said.
I looked at myself in the mirror.
The dress sat perfectly.
My hair was still in place.
My face looked pale, but not enough that someone who didn't know me would immediately notice.
I looked like a bride.
I didn't feel like one.
Paige put her hand on my shoulder.
"Whatever you decide, you don't have to pretend you're fine."
I nodded.
Then I walked back into the hallway.
Seth was waiting near the fellowship room.
He'd removed his jacket and was holding it over one arm.
When he saw me, he straightened.
"There you are."
I stopped a few feet away.
"We need to talk."
He looked toward the church entrance.
"Natalie, we're almost out of time."
"Then listen quickly."
He let out a breath and set his jacket over a chair.
"I've already told you what happened."
"No. You've told me why you think I'm wrong to be upset."
He rubbed his forehead.
"Can we please get through the ceremony before we do this?"
I studied his face.
He looked stressed.
His collar was slightly crooked, and he kept glancing at the clock.
I knew he wanted the wedding to happen.
So did I, or at least some part of me still did.
I remembered our first date, when he'd arrived ten minutes early and spent the first few minutes pretending he hadn't been nervous.
I remembered how he'd made me laugh when I'd had a difficult week at work.
I remembered him bringing soup to my apartment when I was sick.
Those memories hadn't vanished because of one conversation.
That was what made this so hard.
He wasn't a stranger.
He was the man I'd chosen.
And the man I'd chosen was telling me to postpone a conversation about my future until after I'd made a commitment that would make it harder to have.
"I want to understand something," I said.
He nodded impatiently.
"Fine."
"If I tell you I won't quit my job, what happens?"
He stared at me.
"Why are you making this hypothetical?"
"Because I need to know."
"We'll work something out."
"That isn't an answer."
He looked toward the church again.
"Then we'll find another arrangement."
I waited.
He didn't say anything else.
"Will you tell Heather that I never agreed to this?"
His expression hardened.
"She doesn't need to be dragged into our disagreement."
"She's already part of it."
"She's my sister, Natalie. She's struggling."
"I know that."
"Then why can't you just help?"
There it was again.
The assumption that understanding the problem should automatically make me responsible for solving it.
"I have helped," I said. "I've watched the children. I've taken them out. I've done what I could when Heather needed someone."
"And now she needs you again."
"Every weekday isn't the same as an occasional Saturday."
He shook his head.
"You keep making it sound worse than it is."
I felt my shoulders drop.
I was tired of explaining the same distinction.
I was tired of hearing my concern treated like an inconvenience.
And I was tired of feeling that I needed to prove I deserved a say in my own life.
"Did you ever consider asking me before you promised my time?"
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then he said, "I thought you'd understand."
The answer was quiet.
It was also the most honest thing he'd said.
He had expected me to understand his problem.
He had expected me to understand Heather's problem.
He had expected me to understand why the children needed help.
But he hadn't thought he needed to understand what I wanted.
I looked down at my dress.
A few minutes earlier, I had worried about a loose hook.
Now I was trying to decide whether the man standing in front of me had ever understood what marriage meant to me.
"I do understand," I said.
He looked relieved.
I saw it happen.
His shoulders relaxed slightly, and he reached for my hand.
"Good. Then let's get married, and we'll figure out the rest."
I didn't take his hand.
"I understand why Heather needs help."
His relief faded.
"I understand why you want to give it to her."
He waited.
"But I didn't agree to become the children's full-time caregiver, and I didn't agree to leave my job."
He looked frustrated again.
"We're not going to solve this in five minutes."
"Then we shouldn't pretend we've solved it."
His mouth tightened.
I knew he was trying to keep his temper under control.
He lowered his voice.
"Do you really want to do this right now?"
I looked at him.
"You're the one who made the decision right now. You just didn't tell me."
He turned away, then back again.
For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.
I could hear the music inside the church change.
The guests were being asked to settle into their seats.
The ceremony was close enough that every second felt important.
Seth picked up his jacket.
"We'll discuss it tonight."
I shook my head.
"No."
He looked at me sharply.
"No?"
"I'm not agreeing to anything tonight just because you want the wedding to happen."
His expression changed.
I had never seen him look at me quite that way.
Not because I'd shouted.
I hadn't.
Not because I'd insulted him.
I hadn't done that, either.
I'd simply refused to let the urgency of the moment answer a question we hadn't honestly discussed.
He seemed unsure what to say.
I looked toward the bridal room.
Paige was standing just inside the doorway, watching without interfering.
I knew she was there if I needed her.
That helped.
I turned back to Seth.
"I need you to tell me what you actually expect from me."
He stared at me.
Then he said, "I expect us to act like a family."
I waited for him to say more.
He didn't.
I had asked about my job, my time, and the three children who were supposed to arrive at seven-thirty on Monday morning.
He had answered with a sentence that sounded good but explained nothing.
For the first time, I understood that we weren't arguing about daycare.
We were arguing about whether my consent mattered when my answer was inconvenient.
And I didn't know how to marry someone while leaving that question unanswered.
Click here to continue reading: PART 4: The Church Was Ready for Our Vows, but I Finally Understood That Saying Them Would Not Make This Decision Disappear
Ten Minutes Before I Became His Wife, I Heard Him Make a Promise That Could Take Away the Future I Had Worked For
Part 3 of 12
