And haven’t let up since.

At least I have cousins who are in the same predicament. They all feel the same way I do. We’re too young for marriage. None of my female cousins are in serious relationships at the moment. They were too busy going to college first before starting their careers. I dabbled in college classes, not sure of what I wanted to do. Definitely didn’t want to be a business or finance major like my brother.

Eventually I dropped out and threw myself completely into the family business. What’s the point of going to college and majoring in something that interests me when I know I’m going to end up working at the jewelry store for the rest of my days?

“Amelia, where’s your young man today?” This comes from Aunt Angela, who most likely knows where my supposed young man is.

I take an extra long time to chew my green beans as a stall tactic.

“Didn’t you hear?” I ask once I’ve swallowed. Aunt Angela lifts her head, frowning at me.

“Hear what?” she asks.

“We broke up.” I shove turkey in my mouth to prevent myself from saying anything else. There’s no need to air all of my dirty little secrets at the dinner table during Thanksgiving.

Aunt Angela sucks in a surprised gasp while everyone else at the table keeps eating, their heads down. As if they don’t want to make eye contact with anyone, least of all me. “No. When did this happen? How did I miss this? Are you all right? You must be devastated. You two were so close. Inseparable! You lived together. I thought for sure you’d be married soon.”

“Angela,” my mother says to her younger sister. “Please. I told you about the break up when it happened.”

“And when did it happen?” Angela asks, turning on my mother. “I don’t remember you telling me—surely I would!”

They get in an argument about keeping each other informed and I ignore them, stuffing more food in my mouth, grabbing for a second roll when the basket gets passed around. I’m not one to eat my feelings, but pretty sure today calls for it.

“I’m so sorry, Amelia.” My aunt aims this comment directly at me, so I lift my head, my gaze meeting hers. There’s so much sympathy on her face, I almost feel bad that she feels bad, which is silly. “I must’ve forgot your mother telling me. I would never bring it up on purpose, especially now in front of everyone.”

I believe her. That’s more my aunt Marsha’s style, who’s a spiteful old cow who loves to get back at my mother—her younger sister by barely a year—in any way possible. They’ve had jealousy issues since birth.

“It’s okay,” I say, offering her a wan smile. “I’ve pretty much recovered.”

“Oh, I hope so.” Her expression turns hard, her lips thinning into a straight line. “I never did like him much.”

I’m surprised. I thought everyone in my family adored him. I talked him up so much, never revealing what a jerk he could be towards me. “You didn’t?”