92 Days Before Our Wedding, My Best Friend Won Thanksgiving With My Fiancé novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: The Confirmation

Matilda finds the Nashville booking made in July, in Kendall's name, and Preston asks her not to tell anyone.

I answered on the fourth ring.

"Tillie," Preston said, and behind him I could hear a hotel hallway and an ice machine. "You're up."

"Where are you?"

"The room. Kendall's in the bathroom."

"She's in the bathroom of your room."

"It's a suite. Two bedrooms." He sounded patient. "Nothing is going on. I need you to hear me say that."

"I'm hearing you."

"Good. The whole thing got blown out of proportion. It was a game, I'm a man of my word, and I'm doing a nice thing for a friend."

"A nice thing."

"She's had a rough year."

"Preston, I've been with her every weekend of that year."

He didn't answer.

I picked up a pen from the dining table and rolled it between my fingers.

"Did you ask Gwen to put Kendall's card in last?"

The line went quiet.

I heard a door open on his end, and a woman's voice said, "Is that her?"

"Who told you that?" he said.

"Is that your answer?"

"Matilda, don't do this. Don't take something small and make it a crisis. We have ninety-two days."

"We have ninety-two days until a wedding," I said. "I only want to know if you'd do it again."

"It's a trip. I'll be back Sunday."

"That's not what I asked."

"I have to go. We'll talk in the morning."

He hung up.

I sat and listened to the refrigerator hum.

Then I opened my laptop, because there was one place he never looked.

Our wedding planning email was a shared account.

He had set it up in September, and both our passwords were on a sticky note inside my planner.

He had never opened it, because he said it was my department.

Kendall had once used the address to sign up for a hotel rewards account, back when she was helping me with the bridal party list.

I searched the inbox for the hotel's name.

One result.

I almost didn't open it.

Reservation holder: Kendall Devine.

Check-in: Wednesday, November 25.

Check-out: Sunday, November 29.

Room: Anniversary Suite, two guests.

Package: Third Anniversary Weekend, champagne on arrival, late checkout.

Booked: July 11.

I read the date three times.

July 11 was the Saturday Preston and I tasted cake.

I opened the photos on my phone and scrolled back to it.

There were forty pictures from that day.

I took thirty-nine of them, because I was the one holding the camera.

In the first, Kendall was feeding Preston a forkful of lemon cake while he laughed with his eyes shut.

In the tenth, they stood shoulder to shoulder at the tasting table, reading the menu, and her hand was in his back pocket.

In the thirtieth, I was finally in the frame, because the baker had offered to take it.

I stood alone at the edge of the picture holding a plate.

They were in the middle, and they were not looking at me.

I put the phone down and did the math.

Three anniversaries.

Kendall had introduced us two years ago.

I tried to make those two numbers sit together, and they would not.

Another text came in from Preston, then another.

Please do not tell anyone.

Then: I mean it, Tillie. Not your mother, not Gwen. Let me fix this myself.

I wrote back: Fix what?

The dots appeared, disappeared, and appeared again.

Then they stopped.

A text from Kendall came in a minute later.

He told me you know about the suite. Honestly, Mar, you're reading too much into it.

I stared at that.

Reading too much into a reservation with her name on it.

I did not answer.

I took screenshots of the booking, the date, and every message from both of them, and emailed them to myself twice.

I took the ring off the dining table where I had left it, and set it beside my phone on the nightstand.

Then I took off my party dress and put on a sweatshirt.

I lay on top of the covers with the lamp on, staring at the ceiling tiles.

I slept less than two hours.

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