My Wedding Dress And Ring Were For My Best Friend Chapter 01

My Wedding Dress And Ring Were For My Best Friend Chapter 01

When I went to return the wedding ring, the jewelry designer asked me why.

Right in front of her, I slid it onto my ring finger. It caught at my second knuckle and refused to go any farther.

“You can see for yourself. It’s not my size.”

The color drained from her face, and she immediately offered to resize it.

I shook my head, my voice unnaturally calm.

“You can resize the ring, but that won’t fix the shoes or the wedding dress.”

For my wedding to Ethan Parker, the only thing that was actually mine was the bride’s name on the invitation.

Whenever I asked Ethan to come to a dress fitting, he kept his eyes fixed on his computer and answered without even looking up.

“I’m busy. I know your measurements, and I already sent them over.”

“All you have to do is show up and be the bride.”

But three days before the wedding, I received a ring that would not fit over my knuckle and a dress I could not get into.

The bridal heels, satin gloves, and wedding accessories were all in my best friend’s size.

All the anticipation I had carried for so long vanished, leaving me with the hollow ache of having something torn out of my chest.

Ethan frowned and still tried to negotiate.

“It’s only a ceremony. You and Paige are so close. Would it really matter if she stood in for you?”

I said nothing, and I did not object.

I only thought that if the bride could be replaced, then replacing the groom should be fine too.

…

By the time I got home, Ethan was on the phone.

“She’s back. Yeah, make sure you stay warm. The wool wrap I ordered for you should arrive today.”

“Keep it over your legs when you sleep, and don’t let yourself get cold.”

Hearing him fuss over her so tenderly made tears burn behind my eyes.

I had told him over and over that the air vent above my desk blew directly at me and left my whole body aching.

Sometimes he would keep staring at his computer and say, “Keep a sweater at work and get yourself something warm to drink.”

Other times, he would keep staring at his phone and respond with a distracted “Mm-hm.”

He had never once spoken to me that gently, saying he had bought me a wool wrap and reminding me to stay warm.

After he hung up, he seemed to notice me at last.

“Go start dinner. Paige will be here soon.”

Then he began ticking dishes off on his fingers as if he were reading from a menu.

“She likes classic comfort food. Make pan-seared chicken, glazed pork chops, mashed potatoes, roasted green beans, and maybe a light vegetable soup. She prefers lighter meals, and the soup won’t make her feel uncomfortable.”

For a long moment after he finished, I neither moved nor spoke. I simply stared at him.

Only then did Ethan seem to realize something was wrong. A tentative smile appeared on his face.

“What’s wrong? Why aren’t you saying anything?”

I looked away and turned toward the framed engagement portrait on the wall.

“Aren’t you going to ask how the alterations to the ring and the dress went?”

He gave a perfunctory “Oh,” then asked, “So how did the alterations go?”

A bone-deep weariness washed over me.

I parted my lips, then glanced at the photo of Ethan and Paige displayed beneath our engagement portrait. Suddenly, I had no idea what to say.

Before I could speak, he had already lowered his head again. The corner of his mouth lifted as though he had seen something amusing.

Even from two feet away, I could see the screen clearly.

The message was from Paige, saved in his phone as Moon.

Her iMessage thread was pinned at the top of his screen. Mine sat below with the rest of his conversations.

At that moment, I felt like the outsider in my own relationship.

Ethan finally looked up at me, faint reproach in his eyes.

“Why are you still standing there? She’ll be here any minute.”

I had been home for half an hour.

He had not asked once about the wedding or the ring. Even when I clung to one last shred of hope and reminded him, he merely went through the motions.

Yet every detail concerning Paige had his full attention.

I tried once more.

“Does she have any food restrictions?”

Ethan looked up immediately and blurted out almost reflexively, “She doesn’t eat onions or garlic, and she can’t stand cilantro. You know that.”

I fell silent. A few seconds later, I answered, “I know what she likes.”

“I just didn’t know you remembered it this well.”

After saying that, I ignored the look on his face and turned toward the kitchen.

This would probably be the last meal we would ever share.