My Best Friend Redeemed My Fiancé, So I Gave Her the Wedding novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: Keep It On

Brett swaps Mom's ride for Kendra, who wears the pearl bracelet, and Bridget pulls her card and emails Portland.

I never slept.

At three in the morning I was still on the portal, scrolling the planner's change log.

Kendra's name had been added as Primary Contact five weeks ago, by Brett.

Every vendor email since then had gone to her first.

I took screenshots of all of it.

Brett texted at eight.

Still picking you up at eleven.

Mom was being discharged that day, and he had promised to drive us home.

I wrote back: I'll find a ride.

His answer came fast. Stop being difficult. I said I'd be there.

By a quarter to eleven Mom was dressed, her pills were in a paper bag, and a volunteer had brought a wheelchair to the door.

At eleven-fifteen Brett texted again.

Change of plans. Kendra's using her pass today. Taking her to my parents' for lunch.

I called him.

He picked up on the third ring.

In the background Kendra said, "Can someone bring the car around?"

"The lunch at your parents'," I said. "The one about our wedding."

"Bridget."

"You told me you were coming."

"I can send a car for you."

"My mother is sitting in a wheelchair waiting for you."

"A driver can pull up to the entrance just as well. What difference does it make?"

I looked at Mom.

She was staring at the wall.

"None," I said.

"Good," Brett said. "Thank you."

I hung up before he could tell me I was getting better at this.

Mom and I took a cab.

I got her settled on her couch with a blanket and a glass of water.

My phone buzzed with the wedding group chat.

Brett's mother had posted a photo from the lunch.

Kendra sat next to Brett at his parents' dining table.

She wore the pearl bracelet his mother had shown me last Christmas.

His mother had said then that it would be mine the day I joined the family.

An aunt commented under the picture. Is this our bride?

Brett didn't answer.

Ten minutes later someone asked where I was.

Brett wrote: Bridget's with her mom. Kendra's filling in.

A private message came in from Kendra.

It was a close-up of the bracelet on her wrist.

Your future mother-in-law insisted! Just for today.

I typed back: Give it to her when you leave.

A minute later Trent texted me.

She spends her whole afternoon being nice to your in-laws and that's all you've got?

Then Colin.

You weren't there. Somebody had to make an effort.

I turned my phone facedown on the arm of the couch.

Mom was trying to open a water bottle with one hand.

I took it from her and twisted off the cap.

"Go eat something," she said.

"I will."

"You said that yesterday."

I made us toast.

While the bread browned, I opened the wedding portal.

The menu had been changed.

The song I had picked for the walk down the aisle was gone.

Mom's seat had been moved from the family table to a table by the kitchen doors.

I called the planner.

"Why was my mother moved?" I asked.

"Brett approved a new seating chart."

"Who made it?"

She didn't answer fast enough.

I shut my eyes.

"Please send me every change made since Kendra was added," I said.

"Of course."

"And an itemized statement. What I've paid, what's still refundable, and what you haven't billed yet."

"Bridget, is the wedding going ahead?"

"I'm not going ahead with it."

She went quiet.

Then her voice changed. "All right. Let's figure out what you need."

I asked her to take my card off every future payment and to send me the terms for withdrawing.

Some deposits were already locked in, she said.

Brett could keep the venue if he took on the balance.

"Send that to both of us," I said.

Brett called less than an hour later.

"Why is the planner asking me for a credit card?"

"Because I took mine off."

"You can't just stop paying."

"I can."

"This is our wedding."

"Then why is Kendra choosing the music?"

"She's helping."

"And moving my mother to the kitchen table?"

"Your mom doesn't like being the center of attention."

"My mom likes sitting next to me."

He went silent.

Then he said, "Do you hear yourself? You turn a seating chart into another fight about Kendra."

I leaned on Mom's kitchen counter. "When does she stop filling in for me?"

"When you stop treating everything like a contest."

I ended the call.

That evening I wrote to the director who had offered me a job in Portland six months ago.

I had turned her down because I was getting married.

I asked whether the position was still open.

Then I called the rehab clinic that Mom's surgeon had recommended, near my aunt's old street.

For the first time in months I spent an evening making plans that didn't depend on Brett.

At nine the planner forwarded his answer.

Keep everything. I'll cover the balance. Bridget and I will sort this out.

Under it was a new photo Kendra had posted.

Her fingers were laced through Brett's.

The pearl bracelet hung against his wrist.

Borrowing him for one more day, she had written.

Brett had commented on it.

Keep it on. No point taking it off and putting it back on.

I looked at the photo once.

Then I saved it with the others.

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