92 Days Before Our Wedding, My Best Friend Won Thanksgiving With My Fiancé novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: The Zero
At the number game Matilda writes zero for her fiancé and her best friend writes ten; he takes his packed bag and leaves with Kendall, and Matilda takes off her ring.
On Wednesday night, thirty people watched me write a zero on an index card.
It was my friend Gwen's Friendsgiving, the night before the holiday, in her crowded apartment.
Every year she ran a number game.
Everyone wrote a number from zero to ten on a card, and the highest number won the pot.
Last year the pot was a free month of her lasagna.
This year my fiancé had offered the pot himself.
"Five days in the Nashville suite my firm comped me," Preston said, and held up his phone with the booking on the screen. "Holiday week. Whoever wins gets me as their date."
Everyone laughed.
I laughed too, because I thought I would win it.
I was wearing his ring, and we had ninety-two days until our wedding.
Gwen was on the kitchen counter with the card box in her lap.
"Ninety-two days, Matilda," she said. "You could still push the date to spring and have the warm photos."
"No," Preston said.
He wasn't smiling.
"The date doesn't move. Not for anything."
Gwen raised both hands, and somebody put on music again.
Preston came over and slid his arm around my waist.
"Babe, do me a favor," he said into my hair. "Write zero."
"What?"
"You're the bride. You've got me for the rest of my life. It's only fair the others get a shot."
"It's a game," I said.
"Exactly. Don't make it weird."
His smile came back.
I looked across the room for help.
Kendall was on the sofa, with her boots up on the cushion and a glass of cider in her hand.
She had been my best friend since the first week of college and she was my maid of honor.
She gave me a thumbs up and mouthed, Do it.
So I wrote a zero.
I folded the card and dropped it in Gwen's box.
Everyone else went up one at a time.
A man from Preston's office wrote a six and bragged about it.
Gwen's cousin wrote a seven and made a show of kissing the card.
Kendall went last.
She tucked her hair behind her ear, took her time, and dropped her card in with a flourish.
Gwen shook the box and started reading them out.
"Three, five, six, one, seven, zero." She stopped, looked at me, and gave a small apologetic smile. "That's Matilda's zero."
People groaned in sympathy.
"Four, six, two." She unfolded the last card and stared at it.
"Ten," she said slowly.
"Whose is it?"
Kendall lifted her glass.
"Mine."
The room erupted.
People cheered, and someone started a chant of "Nash-ville, Nash-ville."
I laughed along, because everyone was looking at me.
Then I looked at Preston.
He was already picking up his coat.
"Well," he said. "A deal's a deal."
The laughing thinned out.
By the front door, half behind Gwen's coat rack, there were two bags.
One was his gray duffel.
The other was a pink roller bag with a luggage tag I had bought Kendall for her birthday.
They had been there when I walked in.
I had stepped over them to hang up my scarf.
"Preston," I said. "Say it's a joke."
"Matilda."
"Tell them it's a joke."
He sighed and put a hand on my shoulder.
"It's five days. It's a game. Don't make a scene in front of everybody."
"Our flights to my mother's were canceled on Monday," I said. "You said we'd stay here and do Thanksgiving together."
"We'll do Christmas."
"And you'll be in Nashville with my best friend."
"With a prize winner," Kendall said, standing up.
She picked up the pink bag without looking for it.
"Don't be dramatic, Mar. You'd do the same for me."
She kissed my cheek.
She smelled like the vanilla perfume I had given her last Christmas.
Preston kissed my forehead.
"Text me when you're home," he said.
Then they walked out together into the hallway.
Thirty people were still staring at me.
Someone's phone was held up at the edge of the crowd, and I realized she was filming.
Nobody said anything.
I didn't cry.
I picked up my scarf and my bag and thanked Gwen for the cider.
"Matilda, wait," Gwen said. "I didn't think..."
"It's fine," I said.
It wasn't, but I said it anyway, so that I could get to the door.
So I stepped out.
At home I sat down at the dining table where the wedding invitations were stacked in their envelopes.
My phone buzzed at 11:40.
It was Kendall's Instagram story.
Two champagne flutes on a hotel nightstand, and Preston's wrist with the silver watch I had given him, resting beside them.
The caption said: Won it fair and square.
I stared at the screen until it faded to black.
Then I worked the ring off my finger, which was harder than it should have been, and set it beside my phone.
My phone buzzed again.
It was Kendall.
Don't be dramatic. It's five days.
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