I expected my mom’s 70th wedding to be modest and romantic. That changed when she took the stage and offered a weird rule for whomever got her bouquet. Stepping back, I hoped to dodge it. It somehow fell into my hands.

I was in the kitchen watching my mom hurriedly walk around the table. She adjusted place cards, napkins, and spoke to herself about colors like they were everything.

She shone with joy. I couldn’t believe it was happening.

Are you serious, Mom? At 79, you’re getting married?

She glanced up, smiling like I hadn’t said anything odd.

Please don’t make that face, dear. It’s the start, not the finish!”

She looked twentysomething again. Even her eyes gleamed with untamed fire. Even trying, you couldn’t win an argument with her.

“Why, Mom? You’re good alone.”

“Who says I want solitude?”

Mom always did what she wanted.

“I know your marriage ended badly and you no longer believe in love. But I haven’t. Great Harold. This guy makes me chuckle. Feeling alive again.”

I sighed. Brave, headstrong, and fearless, she was. She was unstoppable once she decided.

“So the wedding is happening?”

“Invitations sent, dress chosen, food chosen.”

She grinned, “This is what life’s about.” “And you must live it instead of avoiding it.”

Bit my lip. She could always bring up my divorce at the worst moment.

I recalled my husband’s departure. Upon returning home, I spotted his suitcases at the entrance. He confessed to loving someone younger. Someone “fun.”

After that, love seemed like a ruse to make others feel better. I spent years rebuilding. I needed nobody.

My mom snapped me out of my reverie, “I’ve planned something fun at the wedding for my favorite girls.”

“You and my granddaughters.”

She grins. I felt horrible.

“Don’t worry. “You’ll love it,” she waved.

I doubted.

==========================

Driving to the enormous estate for the wedding, the world reminded me I wasn’t in command.

My tire flattened in the wilderness. Petrol stationless. No automobiles. Bad luck, myself, and a phone without signal.

A bright pickup vehicle parked next me as I exited, groaned, and prepared to phone for aid.

Before realizing who it was, I rolled my eyes.

Tall and wide, he had black hair and an irritating grin.

“My tire’s flat,” I responded, angered.

“That’s simple. I need five minutes.”

“Great. But don’t expect me to trust you because you can replace a tire.”

He grinned. “Nick. I want tools, not trust.”

“I’m not in the mood for jokes,” I said.

A blonde lady shouted, “Are you serious, Nick?” from his vehicle passenger seat.

He waved. “Wait, Julie!”

She looked nasty before sitting inside.

I crossed arms. Lucky me. Another difficult lady, another male. I cared not. I only wanted to attend the wedding.

===============================

The wedding was extravagant. Mom looked royal. Harold smiled nonstop. Everyone laughed, danced, and enjoyed themselves. Then my mom took the mic.

Now for the bouquet throw!

Cheers. My nieces ran to catch it.

“Whoever catches it wins my sapphire ring!”

Excited people gasped.

She said, “But there’s one rule,” waving her finger. “The winner must date—with someone I choose!”

I murmured, “Oh no,” backing away.

She turned and smirked at me before throwing the bouquet directly at me. I moved too slowly. It fell into my arms.

Silence. Let’s cheer.

Mom smiled as I stood transfixed. “Congrats!”

“This is a joke,” I mumbled.

“Nope. Deal’s a deal.”

Who’s my date? I requested.

Her grin broadened. “Nick! Come up!”

Turned around. That Nick. He approached smugly.

“Looks like fate chose me.”

Julie was angry behind him.

I faced my mother. “No way.”

She grabbed my arm and said, “Just once, sweetie. For me. A gift.”

Before I could respond, she motioned Nick over and vanished into the mob.

Nick leaned in. “When’s our date?”

Let’s finish this. One date. All done.”

“Perfect. Choose the time and place.”

Saturday, 7 p.m. Vincenzo’s downtown.”

He grinned, “Fancy.”

Excuse me. I must forget this.”

Nick headed for Julie as I left. He murmured, grabbed her hand, and danced.

I left the cake. One thought as I left:

Why is my mom hurting me?

Sat. night arrived. I got to the café 10 minutes early to finish.

Nick arrived on time.

He looked too handsome with clean pants and a shirt. He sat across from me, smiling.

“Wow. You came. I expected you to leave me a message and disappear.”

“I considered it.”

“How was your day?”

Did I regret agreeing to this before or after?

He chuckled.

“That makes me like you. Your honesty. This is refreshing.”

I sighed. Only my mom got me here. One date. No hope. No dreams.”

Unexpectedly, he was easy to chat to. A little laughter. He joked about marriage. Though I hated to admit it, he was charming.

The phone rang. He disregarded it. It rang again.

He stepped away, saying, “Sorry, just a second.”

I didn’t want to listen, but I heard “Hey, Julie…” I know. Calm down…

I’ll be there shortly. Sit tight.”

His troubled face returned. Sorry, I must go.”

“Julie?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure.”

He dropped money on the table. “Sorry. I understand…

“Don’t worry. All done. No second date.”

“Really? Just that?”

I eyed him blankly. “If you’re going to switch women mid-date, be subtle.”

He groaned and departed after opening his lips.

Looked at my coffee. Nick. Julie. Of course.

Mom’s matchmaking failed. I never expected her to introduce me to a man who couldn’t complete one date.

Whatever. No longer my concern.

Or so I thought…

Next morning, flowers came at my workplace.

Red roses. A card:

“I hope you’re not allergic. –Nick”

Grunting, I flung them aside.

Next day, more flowers.

“Secret admirer?” colleague joked.

“More like someone who doesn’t take a hint,” I added, sending them to the breakroom.

A week passed without my response. My mother called.

Dinner tonight. My home.”

“Mom…”

Avoid excuses. You left the wedding early. Come.”

So I gave in.

Her patio smelled great. I wondered whether it was a regular supper.

Nick appeared. Flipping burgers.

And Julie. Immediately behind him.

I became mad.

Mom stopped me before I left. “Sweetheart! You succeeded!”

“Why is he here?”

“I invited him,” and grinned. “You two must start over.”

“No thanks. I know enough.”

“You won’t mind dinner,” she added, pulling me ahead.

Nick noticed me. “Look who stopped avoiding me.”

Julie sneered. “Can we eat?”

Mom clapped. “First, Nick speaks.”

Sighing, Nick set down the spatula. “Let me introduce you.”

“I know Julie,” I responded coldly. “She smothered you at the wedding.”

Nick shook his head. Dislike that.”

Putting his hand on her shoulder. “She’s my daughter.”

Jules rolled her eyes.

I appear too old for his child. But believe me—I’ve lived with him for 18 years.”

I froze. Nick scratched his head.

Julie was six when my wife died. Just us. She dislikes sharing me.

“You’re annoying,” Julie remarked.

“So you two weren’t…”

“Dating?” Nick chuckled. “No way.”

Julie gagged. “Gross.”

She sat opposite me. Your not awful. Dad should move on. If you can handle him, date again.”

Nick raised eyebrows. “See? Even my daughter agrees.”

Just a small grin. “Maybe. Let’s eat first.”

“Best thing you said all night.”

We ate, laughed, and spoke normally. I discovered something surprising:

Just perhaps… I was ready to open my heart again.