On Wednesday afternoon, I finally suck it up and go into work. Melody called a dozen times yesterday, but she only left one message, Tomorrow 3pm.
I worked from home this morning, perfecting my article on finding the right wedding veil. My personal life might be hanging on by a thread, but my work is still A plus, and if it’s the last article I’m ever going to write, then I want it to be the best damn article on wedding veils ever written.
I also spent the morning calling Sam on repeat. He’d already planned to be out of town for a few days, on a pseudo bachelor trip with buddies, since I’m leaving for my bachelorette party tonight, but I didn’t expect him to go radio silent after the bomb he dropped on Monday. We need to talk. We have to talk.
“Come in,” Melody calls, as I linger in her open doorway.
Her office is large and luxurious. It’s creams and pinks, very on-brand for the whole bridal magazine editor-in-chief gig. She has a walking treadmill that she uses every day over lunch. Magazine covers of popular editions from the past twenty years are framed behind her desk. I’m always inspired when I walk into this office. I get that someday this is going to be me feeling.
I take a deep breath as I sit in a plush chair in front of her desk and place both trembling hands in my lap. “I’m sorry for the scene Monday during the fitting. That shouldn’t have happened there.”
“No, it shouldn’t have. It was unprofessional and tacky, and if any of the women at that store decided to talk and spill your big secret, your career would be over and mine would be tarnished.” Her tone isn’t threatening, but I still want to pee my pants.
Panic rises in my chest.
“But it did happen.” She sits forward in her chair. “So, let’s focus on cleaning up the mess instead of living in it.”
“You aren’t mad I lied to you?”
“I don’t have time to be mad. The magazine is throwing a wedding in three days, and we have no groom.”
“Sam will be there.”
She arches a perfectly sculpted brow. “Don’t make promises to me you can’t keep. Have you two made up?”
I consider lying, but what’s the point now? “Not yet. He’s at his bachelor party.”
“He still went. That’s a good sign.”
I don’t share her optimism. Sam wouldn’t even call it a bachelor party. It was just a couple days fishing with his buddies that happened to coincide with my bachelorette party.
“What else, Jade?”
“What do you mean?”
“How much of what you told me is true?” She reaches for a bottle of hand lotion, opens it, and rubs it in while she stares me down.
“Our engagement may have started less conventionally than I led on, but Sam and I love each other. That part is true. He wants to get married.” Or he wanted to before I screwed everything up.
“I don’t like being used. I care for it even less when it impacts my job. The Board of Directors is expecting a wedding. A very decadent and press-filled wedding.”
The reminder of the additional media covering the wedding temporarily knocks the air from my lungs. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m going to figure this out. I promise. Worst case scenario, I’ll write about being stood up at the altar.”
The thought of that makes my entire body scream with humiliation, but I would do it. Better to lose my pride than everything else.
“Absolutely not.” Melody swivels in her chair and glances up at the framed magazines on the wall. “We are a wedding magazine. We sell love, engagements, marriage, and happily ever afters. Do you think hopeful brides and grooms across the world want to read about your failed engagement?” She shakes her head. “We are having a wedding Saturday. One that ends with two people saying, I do. If you can’t find a groom, I will.”
I chuckle nervously. “You would find me a groom?”
“Yes. Tim in accounting has a crush on you. I overheard him talking in the break room. I’m sure he’d be willing to step in for a promotion.”
“Tim, the guy who always has food stains on his tie and smells like garlic?”
She sighs, like I should be way more excited about Tim as a potential prospect. What in the world is happening?
“Or, I’ll find another couple to take your place. I’ll tell them you were never engaged and that you were only the ghostwriter.” She flaps her hand around dismissively, as if it’s of no consequence to her, and then rests her elbows on the table. “I will find a way to spin this to protect the magazine’s image.”
I open and close my mouth, trying to find the words. The magazine’s image. Not mine. Nine months of working long hours at the office, giving up time with friends to research wedding invitation etiquette and learn all the shades of white. That’s to say nothing of the damage it’s all done to my relationship with Sam. It can’t have been for nothing.
Who would hire me after Melody inevitably fires me? She’d never write me a letter of recommendation, and people around this city would know. The magazine, and my articles, have been getting a lot of local and national attention. Last week a lady at the grocery store recognized me. For fifteen minutes she fangirled over my articles and told me that I helped her feel less overwhelmed with all the wedding planning.
“It makes sense now why Sam wasn’t keen on having his photo taken, and why his groomsmen are your bridesmaids’ significant others, instead of his friends or family.” Her gaze is narrowed, but her tone is calm. Too calm.
I nod, even though it isn’t necessary. She’s already put it all together.
Sam had very limited involvement in what I was writing. Early on, when he agreed to get engaged and let me write about it for the magazine, he made a couple of stipulations. He didn’t want his name or photo used in the articles, and he didn’t want to tell his family (our plan was to go see them in North Dakota after the wedding and honeymoon, maybe have a small reception to celebrate). The first one was no big deal, since the articles I wrote focused on the bridal experience. The second stung, I won’t lie, but I’ve never met Sam’s family, and the idea of them stumbling onto my bridal column was such a long shot, I didn’t see any harm in it.
Now I’m starting to wonder if he ever wanted to marry me. Maybe his future plans of a wife, two kids, and a golden retriever didn’t include me as the woman standing by his side. I know the wedding came in a rush and I’ve been consumed with getting it all ready, but is it possible I really missed all the signs that my fiancé never planned to walk down the aisle?
“Your call, Jade. Do you want me to find another couple?” she asks.
I stand and find my voice. “No. I’ll be there. And so will my groom.”
“How’d it go?” Scarlett’s waiting for me outside when I get done with my meeting.
“As good as could be expected, I guess.” I let out a breath that puffs out my cheeks.
“Wanna talk about it?” she asks.
“No. I need to pack and get ready. What time do we leave?” We’re heading to Milwaukee for my bachelorette party. Scarlett wanted to plan a big, beach getaway, but I’ve never been to the ocean, and I thought it’d be fun to see it the first time with Sam on our honeymoon.
“How about now?” She glances out into the parking lot and I follow her gaze. A pink Hummer is parked along the curb with Piper and Dakota hanging out an open door. Even from this distance, I can see the giant smiles on their faces.
“I don’t have my bag and look at me.” I glance down at my outfit. The knee-length skirt and button-down shirt will not do for my bachelorette party.
“I’ve got you covered.” My best friend takes my hand and pulls me with her. “I packed you a bag and tossed in all my skimpiest dresses as backups.”
As we get closer to the vehicle, I can hear the bass pumping and see the matching pink interior. The first real smile since Sam left tugs at the corners of my lips.
“Hey!” Piper jumps down to hug me. “Happy bachelorette party!”
A sash is thrown over my head and a flute of champagne is thrust in my hand. The hurt and stress of the past two days starts to melt away. Through it all, my friends have been there for me and I know they always will be.
Scarlett and I have been friends since high school. She is the most considerate and reliable person in my life. Piper only came into our lives in the past year, but I feel like I’ve known her so much longer. And Dakota. She’s married to one of the Wildcat players, but because she was finishing college, she only moved to Minnesota a few weeks ago. I’m still getting to know her, but I feel like she’s a kindred spirit. I’ve kept my circle small. Trust isn’t easy for me. But these three feel like the sisters I never had.
“Let’s party.” I lift my glass in the air, and my friends mimic the motion, clinking their flutes against mine.
