Chapter 3
When the bridal shop called, I was at the dining table organizing the paperwork for ending the engagement.
“Ms. Bennett, there are a few alterations to your gown we need you to approve. Could you come in?”
Alterations.
The designer and I had gone over every stitch when we finalized it. There was nothing left to alter.
At the shop, an assistant wheeled the dress out.
I knew at first glance it was wrong.
The sweetheart neckline had become square. The train was gone, replaced with a floor-length hem. The French lace had been entirely replaced with matte satin.
This wasn’t my wedding dress.
“Who changed it?”
The assistant checked the records.
“Mr. Hayes came in last week. He said the original style wasn’t quite right. He brought a friend to try it on, to check whether the fabric would cause an allergic reaction.”
“The woman he brought wore this dress?”
“For about twenty minutes.” The assistant lowered her voice. “She took quite a few pictures.”
My wedding dress. Ava had worn it for twenty minutes.
I called Ethan without bothering to soften my tone.
“Ava wore my wedding dress?”
He sounded as if he’d already prepared his answer.
“She just tried it on. Her skin—”
“I never said she had sensitive skin. You did.”
A second of silence.
“She does get allergic reactions easily. I didn’t want there to be a problem with the bridesmaid dress fabric on the wedding day, so I had her try—”
“Who decided she was a bridesmaid?”
“My mom.”
“A bridesmaid dress isn’t made from the same fabric as a wedding gown. What exactly were you testing by putting her in mine?”
The line went quiet for several seconds.
His voice dropped.
“I didn’t think it through. She was curious and tried it on. I figured you wouldn’t mind—”
“I mind.”
The words came out softer than anything else I’d said.
Ava’s voice floated over the line.
“I’m sorry, Paige. I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have touched your dress. Ethan only meant well—”
“Ava. Send me the photos you took that day.”
Silence.
After a long pause, she said,
“I didn’t save them.”
Ethan took over.
“Enough. Ava apologized. It’s a dress. Is this really necessary? What do you want from us?”
I hung up.
I went home.
My phone buzzed.
A video call from Ethan’s mother.
“Paige, sweetheart, Ethan says you two had a little argument? Don’t be so sensitive. Ava lost her mother when she was little. We practically raised her as our own daughter. She’s delicate, and Ethan’s just looking after her like a brother should. You’re joining the family. Be a little more generous.”
Their own daughter.
Which meant I was the outsider.
“The wedding dress—”
“It’s a dress. Trying it on won’t ruin it. What’s the harm? You always get hung up on these things. Ethan told me how you blow everything out of proportion.”
She smiled and ended the call.
I sat motionless on the couch.
My phone buzzed again.
Ava had sent me a photo.
She was standing in front of the fitting-room mirror in my wedding dress. Her makeup was done, her hair pinned up. Her smile was sweet and polished, as though she were posing for bridal portraits.
Underneath was one line: “Look, Paige. Don’t you think it suits me, too?”
Three seconds later, she deleted it.
A small gray notification appeared in the chat: Ava deleted a message.
But I’d already saved the screenshot.
One more image in the folder.
That evening, Ethan came home and sat on the couch scrolling through his phone.
“Stop complaining to my mom. You’re making it sound like I’m bullying you. Ava just tried on a dress. If you’re that upset, I’ll have her apologize.”
He glanced up at me.
“Will that be enough?”
The printed agreement to end our engagement lay on the dining table. I walked over, folded it, and put it in my bag.
“It’s enough.”