“The In-Laws Are Coming for the Weekend”
“Mum, have you completely lost your mind? What in-laws?” shouted Emily into the phone, nearly dropping it. “I’ve told you a hundred times, James and I are just dating!”
“And what, dating means it’s not serious?” Her mother’s voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. “Emily, you’re twenty-seven! Others your age are married with children, and you’re still playing the field. His parents are lovely people, hardworking—they’ve even got a three-bedroom house in Croydon…”
“Mum!” Emily squeezed her eyes shut, fighting off a headache. “Listen to me carefully. I am NOT ready to get married. I DON’T want to discuss this with strangers. And for heaven’s sake, you should’ve talked to me first!”
“Too late for that now,” her mother snapped. “I’ve already rung them—they’re coming tomorrow morning. And James knows, by the way. I spoke to him yesterday, and he agreed.”
Emily slowly sank onto the sofa. James had agreed… Of course he had. What did he have to lose? Living comfortably in his parents’ house, barely working full-time, and now this—a ready-made fiancée with her own flat and salary.
“Mum, can’t we just cancel? Tell them I’m ill…”
“Emily, darling,” her mother’s voice softened suddenly, almost pleading. “Please, sweetheart. I just want to see grandchildren! What if something happens to me and you’re left alone? James is a good lad—doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke…”
“Doesn’t drink?” Emily snorted. “He could barely stand straight the day before yesterday!”
“Well, it was a special occasion!” her mother shot back. “Right, love, be here by ten tomorrow. I’ve already got a chicken, ordering the cake…”
The line went dead. Emily sat frozen for a moment, staring into space, then abruptly stood and paced the room. She had to do something, but what? Strangle James? Her mother? Or maybe flee to her mate’s countryside cottage till Monday?
Her phone rang again.
“Em, it’s me,” James said guiltily. “Listen, your mum called me yesterday…”
“You absolute git!” Emily exhaled. “You could’ve warned me!”
“Thought she was joking! Seriously! Who arranges marriages through in-laws these days? Figured she’d drop it…”
“And when did you realise she wasn’t joking?”
“When my parents started picking out cakes,” he admitted. “Em, why don’t we just play along? Have a chat, humour them…”
“James, do you realise after this circus, my mum’ll march me down the aisle at gunpoint? She’s probably already eyeing wedding dresses!”
“So what?” His voice took on an odd tone. “Am I not good enough for you?”
Emily went quiet. That was the heart of it. She liked James—a lot. Tall, handsome, kind. But there was something… missing. He never made decisions alone—always checking with his mum, even about which shirt to wear on a date. And now this wedding wasn’t even his idea.
“James,” she said carefully, “do *you* actually want to marry me? I mean, *you*—not your mum, not mine?”
“’Course I do!” he said too quickly. “I mean… generally… we get on well…”
“That’s not an answer,” Emily sighed. “Fine. See you tomorrow.”
All evening, she tore through her wardrobe, rejecting dresses—too fancy, and they’d think she’d agreed; too plain, and her mum would lecture her for a week about dressing properly for serious discussions. Eventually, she settled on a grey trouser suit—smart but neutral.
By morning, Emily was determined to cancel. She’d call her mum, claim she was ill or had a work emergency… But her phone stayed silent, and when she rang her mother, no one answered. Off to the market already, no doubt, buying fancy nibbles.
At half nine, Emily stood frozen outside her parents’ house. The neighbour’s nan watered her balcony plants, peering down curiously.
“Emily!” her mother called from above. “Get inside already!”
She was greeted at the door in a frilly apron, looking conspiratorial.
“Good, you’re early! Help me set the table. Look—got some smoked salmon for starters, and caviar—not the posh sort, but decent…”
“Mum,” Emily tried interrupting, but her mum dragged her to the kitchen.
“Love the suit! Very professional. Just the thing—James’s parents prefer girls dressed modestly…”
“How d’you know what they prefer?”
“We’ve met!” her mother said proudly. “Ran into his mum, Margaret, at the doctor’s. Lovely woman—we chatted ages. She told me all about you…”
“About me? What?”
“That you’re pretty, hardworking, own your flat… They’re chuffed James found such a catch!”
Emily felt her blood boil. They were already discussing her as a bride—and no one had asked her!
“Mum, listen,” she gripped her mother’s shoulders. “I’m not ready to marry. Understand? I don’t want to!”
“Don’t want to?” Her mum frowned. “Then why string the poor lad along? If you’re not serious, let him go!”
“We’re just dating! Getting to know each other! Maybe we’re not even right for each other!”
“Six months is plenty of time! In my day, people decided in a month—you’re dragging it out…”
The doorbell cut them off. Her mum whipped off the apron, smoothed her hair, and marched to the door. Emily stayed clutching the counter, steadying herself.
“Come in, come in!” Her mother’s voice dripped with hospitality. “And here’s our Emily!”
James and his parents entered. His dad, Robert—a burly, kind-eyed man—looked awkward. Margaret, however, assessed Emily with a sharp gaze.
“Here’s the bride!” her mother announced. “Though you’ve met, of course…”
“Hello,” Emily mumbled, feeling like a prize cow.
James looked just as trapped, hovering behind his parents with a guilty smile.
“Tea’s ready!” her mum fussed. “Come through!”
“Perhaps we should talk first?” Margaret cut in. “Properly.”
In the living room, everyone sat stiffly. Margaret fixed Emily with a direct look.
“Tell me, Emily—do you *actually* want to marry our James?”
Emily froze. She’d expected anything but this bluntness.
“I… we…” she stammered.
“Margaret!” her mother interrupted. “Of course she does! They’ve been together six months!”
“That’s not an answer,” Margaret said calmly. “Dating and marrying are different. I’m asking the girl.”
Emily suddenly felt lighter. This woman wasn’t a fool—she *knew*.
“Honestly?” Emily said. “I don’t know. James and I… we have fun, but marriage wasn’t on the table until yesterday.”
“There, you see!” Margaret turned to Emily’s mum. “You told me it was settled!”
“Well… I assumed…”
“Mum,” James finally spoke. “Maybe Em and I should talk alone?”
“Quite right!” Robert agreed. “Let the young ones decide. We’ll have tea.”
Outside, they walked in silence. James looked tortured; Emily didn’t know where to start.
“Em,” he finally said, “I barely slept last night. Been thinking.”
“And?”
“We *have* never talked about marriage. I’m ashamed it’s come to this—parents involved, and we’ve not even decided…”
Emily stopped. “James, do *you* want to marry me? Really?”
“I do,” he said quietly. “But… I’m scared.”
“Of what?”
“What if you say no? What if I’m not good enough? You’re so independent, clever, and I…”
“And you what?”
“I’m just… ordinary. Work, telly, home. Bit boring, really.”
Emily laughed unexpectedly. “James, you prat! Since when’s boring bad? You’re kind, steady—I feel safe with you. That’s priceless.”
“So… will you marry me?” He took her hands.
“Is *this* you asking? Not your mum, not mine—*you*?”
“Me,” he said firmly. “Emily, marry me. I’ll be a good husband, swear it.”
She looked into his earnest eyes and knew her answer. No, he wasn’t Prince Charming. But he was real, solid, and loved her in his way.
“Alright,” she said. “But not tomorrow, like our mums want. Let’s do it properly—ring, restaurant…”
“What about them?” James nodded towards the house.
“We’ll say we agree. They’ll be happy and back off.”
Back inside, the parents were peaceably drinking tea.
“Sorted?” Margaret asked.
“Sorted,” Emily smiled.They agreed on a spring wedding, and as the leaves turned gold that October, Emily finally realised her mother’s meddling had, against all odds, led her to exactly where she belonged.
