Knot My Ex-Best Friends
1
JESSICA
“Ican't do this!"
I spin around and face Mom.
She's standing in the doorway of the bridal suite, one hand clutching her champagne flute, the other pressed against her chest like she's trying to hold her heart in place.Her blonde hair is swept into an elegant twist. She's wearing that dusty rose dress Callum, my groom waiting downstairs, picked out. She hated it but bought it anyway because I begged her not to make waves.
She looks beautiful, but as if she has been waiting for this moment.
"It's normal, wedding jitters before the big day."
I shake my head. I wish it was as simple as that.
We're on the second floor of the Riverside Estate, a sprawling Victorian manor that Callum's parents booked the second we got engaged. It's all exposed brick and crown molding, with massive windows overlooking the gardens below. Two hundred guests are already seated out there in neat rows of white chairs, waiting for me to walk down an aisle lined with roses I didn't pick.
The bridal suite is supposed to feel luxurious. Plush carpet the color of champagne, an ornate mirror that takes up half thewall, a velvet settee in the corner where Melissa left her purse and half-empty mimosa. There's a table covered in champagne bottles and fruit nobody's touched. White roses spill out of crystal vases on every surface. The air smells like hairspray and lilies, and it’s making my stomach turn.
Or maybe that's just the panic.
"Constant nightmares, waking up in cold sweats, loss of appetite, drinking wine. Those are just a few things I've had ever since Monday. I can't stop feeling as if I'm making the biggest mistake of my life."
"Oh!” She gasps as she puts the flute down.
Yeah, Oh. I'm supposed to be happy thinking about how my life will change, but not feeling as if I'm giving myself a free pass to prison. There were signs, but even more signs this week.
Mom walks toward me slowly, like I'm a spooked horse. Her heels click against the hardwood. She's shorter than me by a few inches, but she's always carried herself like she's six feet tall. Strong. Steady. The kind of woman who raised me to speak my mind and stand my ground.
Except I stopped doing both of those things when I started dating Callum.
"Talk to me," she says softly. "What happened this week?"
I take a shaky breath. "First I want to get out of this corset. I can't think straight when I can't breathe. Then I'll tell you everything."
She moves behind me and I feel her fingers on the zipper. The moment she pulls it down, I gasp. Actual oxygen floods my lungs.
"Jesus, Jessica," Mom breathes. "This is way too tight."
"I know." I sink onto the settee as she works the dress open, and it poofs around me like a cloud. There's so much fabric. Layers and layers of tulle and expensive lace. "Callum's mother picked it out. Ordered it in a size smaller than I wore because I'dwant to 'slim down for the big day.' Callum agreed. Told me I'd look better if I lost a little weight. Wedding photos are forever, and I'd want to look my best."
Mom's hands still on the zipper. "He said what?"
"He was just being honest." The words come out automatically. A script I've repeated to myself for months. "Concerned about my health. Wanted me to feel confident. The camera adds ten pounds, and he didn't want me unhappy with the photos later."
"That's not honesty. That's cruelty dressed up as concern."
I don't respond. Can't. Because she's right, and I've known it for weeks, but admitting it means admitting I've wasted two years of my life with a man who made me feel like I needed to shrink to be worthy of love.
"I haven't eaten a real meal in six weeks." The confession spills out. "Just protein shakes and salads with no dressing. Two hours of cardio every day. And this morning, when he saw me in the dress, you know what he said?"
Mom's voice is dangerous. "What?"
"'Almost there.'" My voice cracks. "A project still in progress. Not quite good enough yet, but maybe by the time we got to the venue, I'd be acceptable."
So here I am, drowning in someone else's vision of perfection.
