“That’s… a relief to hear out loud,” I say. Adults acknowledging they fucked up: not something I’m used to hearing. “Because it was kind of a terrible time for me. If I’m being honest.”
“Quinn.” Mom looks like she might cry. “I want to make this right. We both do.”
“Can you just tell me why? I’ve been so anxious about it happening again because I never understood why it happened the first time. And then when you moved back in, everything was supposed to be back to normal, and I didn’t understand that, either.”
Dad takes a deep breath. “When your personal life and your work life have that much overlap, it’s a challenge. And ‘overlap’ isn’t even the right word, really—our personal life was our work life, and vice versa. We kept nagging each other, sniping at each other, and then when we stopped working for the day, we’d be bitter with each other.”
“But you’re still doing it. You’re still living and working in the same place.”
“You may not remember, but we actually rented an office space for a while,” Mom says. “Later that year. And we preferred working out of the house so much more. With this job, you’re always on the move. It didn’t make sense to pay all that money for a space we weren’t going to be using all that often.”
She’s right: I don’t remember that at all.
“So what changed? When you came back, what was different? It’s still stressful—that much is clear.”
“The thing is, we already knew how to make our marriage work,” Mom says. “We’d been doing that. What we didn’t know was how to make our business work alongside that. That was a lot of what we talked about in counseling. Learning to understand and work with each other’s communication styles.”
“And we didn’t tell you because, well, it was painful for us, too, that time apart. We just wanted to move forward. It’s clear now that it wasn’t the right decision, and we’re very sorry about that.”
I tuck my feet up on the couch. “All this time, I’ve been waiting for the last straw, every time you fight about something, no matter how small it is.”
“It’s normal and okay for there to be conflict in a relationship,” Mom says, as everyone lately seems intent on making sure I know. “I think all of this actually made the two of us stronger as partners. Because we struggled through something together.”
“And it still brings you joy?” I ask. “This kind of work?”
They exchange a look. “When you love it,” Mom says, “it doesn’t always feel like work.”
“This may seem like an odd thing to say, given what we do…” Dad trails off. “But if we were really that unhappy, it would have been better to have split up. That might have been what was best for the family. We’ve seen it with our friends, and we’ve seen it with couples we’ve worked with—sometimes divorce isn’t actually failure.”
And that makes sense too.
“I want to apologize too,” I say. “Again. Whatever I was going through, it wasn’t fair to let it affect my work this summer. For that, I’m sorry.”
My parents are quiet for a few moments. “I wish you’d told us this sooner,” Mom says. “But I understand why you felt like you couldn’t. Why you felt like we pushed you into this. We’re sorry about that.”
“And I thought if I told you I wasn’t interested in becoming a wedding planner, it would, I don’t know, divide us as a family. That I wouldn’t be welcome.”
“Absolutely not,” Mom says. “We love Borrowed + Blue. But we love you more. Both you and Asher. You’re our daughter first, Quinn. You always have been. We hope you know that. And it doesn’t make us any less of a family if you decide to do something else.”
There’s a strange lump in my throat that I struggle to swallow around. I’ve needed to hear that for a while.
“So what happens now?” Dad says. “You’re done with B+B?”
There’s a sense of finality in the way he says it. And as much as I’ve dreamed about severing myself from it, I’m not sure I can imagine a future without it, even in some small way.
“Maybe not forever,” I say. “But for now, yes. I need a break. And I know I probably can’t switch out of all my fall classes at this point, but I’m pretty sure I don’t want to study business. Whatever I study, I want it to be my decision. Even if I have to pay for it myself and even if I change my mind someday. And I fully intend to pay you all back. For any business you lost as a result of what happened at Victoria and Lincoln’s wedding.”
“Well—we appreciate that,” Dad says. “But that isn’t necessary. Besides, now that the promos for the wedding special are running, we’ve been getting quite a lot of inquiries.”
“And we don’t want it to be too stressful to balance a job with your freshman classes.”
“I’ve actually been doing some other work this summer,” I say, and I take the chance to tell them all about Maxine.
“You’ll have to play for us sometime,” Dad says. “When you’re ready.”
Mom is nodding along, but the expression on her face is difficult to interpret. I’ve never seen her like this—and I realize she might be hurt. This business was her dream, and maybe it doesn’t feel like a family business anymore if the whole family isn’t involved.
“I think it’ll take me a little more time to process everything,” she admits. “It’s tough to hear you were so unhappy for so long.”
That tugs at my heart. “Mom, no,” I rush to say. “I didn’t hate all of it. I swear. Remember the groom who accidentally dragged the bride down with him into a fountain when they were posing for photos? And we
