“You’re not nervous about how involved he is?” Maddie asked me once, half-laughing while we folded sample napkins in my living room. “I feel like most guys don’t know the difference between blush and mauve.”
“He just wants to help, Maddie,” I said. “He says I get overwhelmed… and he’s not wrong, you know. I can get a bit anxious when things don’t go to plan.”
My best friend raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything more. In hindsight, I should’ve paid attention to that silence.
“He just wants to help, Maddie,” I said.
Maddie was my maid of honor. We’d been inseparable since we were 12, when I puked on her gym shoes during our first day of middle school. We made it through first loves, my mom’s illness, dorm-room breakups, and every messy chapter in between.
She was the person who made the world feel safe.
Jake was my future. Maddie was my forever.
I was the idiot who thought I could trust them both.
Jake was my future.
Maddie was my forever.
The truth didn’t arrive with a scream. There was no dramatic reveal or anything… it was just an ordinary afternoon and an unexpected ping from my inbox.
Subject line: “Please read this before Saturday.”
I clicked on it with zero suspicion. At first, I thought it was spam — or maybe a reminder from the venue. The sender was a name I recognized: Emily, one of the junior coordinators I’d met on a wedding venue tour months ago.
She was kind and a little too honest in a way I liked.
“Please read this before Saturday.”
