There’s no way Ivy expected to be left out of her best friend’s wedding until she got caught up in it and learned the shocking truth. The groom? Someone she’d known her whole life. The betrayal? Unforgivable. When her past collides with her present, Ivy must decide: walk away for good or face her fiancé.
When someone first mentioned Amber’s wedding, I laughed.
‘Wait, Amber who?’ I asked, sipping my coffee and completely distracted by the huge slice of cheesecake in front of me.
There was silence at the table. Four pairs of eyes stared at me as if I had just confessed to murder.
‘Are you serious, Ivy?’ asked Lauren finally. ‘Amber Amber. Our Amber.’
My stomach clenched.
‘No, she would have told me. Of course she would! You guys are just messing with me!’
Jack shifted awkwardly, nearly knocking over his coffee.
‘Ivy, she… she sent out the invitations weeks ago. Almost a month,’ he said.
I almost dropped my coffee.
My invitation never came.
At first I told myself it was a mistake. Maybe it got lost in the mail? Or maybe she was waiting to let me know in person?
But it didn’t make sense! Growing up, we always talked about being each other’s bridesmaids…so what was it?
The weeks went by. More and more invitations were sent. I saw some of my friends posting on social media and tagging her, excited that they were going to share Amber’s big day with her.
We can’t wait to celebrate you!
You’re going to be the most beautiful bride, Amber!
Girls’ night out!!!
Dresses were bought.
‘I bought this beautiful midnight blue dress, Ives,’ Lauren told me over the phone. ‘And my grandmother’s earrings will complete the look perfectly. Have you decided what you’re going to wear yet?’
‘Lauren, she still hasn’t invited me,’ I said. ‘So…’
I didn’t bother asking Amber why. I waited. And I gave her every opportunity to tell me. But she never did. Not even when we went to get manicures.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to spend time with her, but I wanted to see if she’d tell me the truth. Or anything about her wedding, for that matter. And to be honest, I was really surprised she agreed to go with me.
‘I’m choosing a neutral nail colour,’ Amber said, beaming with happiness.
When I looked at her hand, she wasn’t even wearing a wedding ring.
‘Beautiful,’ I said. ‘I choose fiery red.’
What had I done to her that she was willing to keep this big secret from me? Had I hurt her in some way?
Did she really think I was going to crash her wedding and run off with the groom?
What the hell?
But something was wrong, and I knew it to my core. Amber was avoiding me, and I needed to know why.
So on the day of the wedding, I blew it.
I haven’t spoken to Amber since the day of my manicurist appointment and since the wedding talk got out of hand. She even blocked me on social media, and Lauren shared screenshots of her messages with me.
‘I’m sorry, Ives,’ she said one afternoon as we sat in the park eating ice cream. ‘I don’t know what got into that girl. Have you tried talking to her?’
‘We had manicures a few weeks ago,’ I admitted. ‘But I didn’t ask her directly. She wasn’t wearing a ring or anything. I guess she just doesn’t want me there.’
But now I was standing in front of the entrance to the hall, watching the guests step inside, laughter bursting from their lips and happy chatter filling the air. I felt out of place. I knew most of the people present. Amber and I had been friends for so long, her family was close to me too.
She had to tell me. She should have told me.
But why hadn’t she?
I remembered that the last time we talked was before there was any mention of the wedding, whether it was from our friends or Amber’s social media.
We were at her flat, sitting on the floor, sharing a bottle of wine between us. Wedding magazines were spread out between us and I circled the dress I knew she had to like.
She was quiet that night. Tense. I brushed her off, figuring she was stressed about work.
‘Why do you need so many wedding magazines?’ – I asked. asked me.
‘Because that’s the next project I’m working on,’ she answered cautiously. ‘Designing a wedding dress and sewing it. If I do well, Ivy, I’ll have more clients. I know it.’
Was she really lying? Was she planning her wedding then?
Now I remembered the look on her face, her hands clutching her wine glass as I questioned her about her dream wedding dress. It got even worse when I asked her about her dream groom.
‘We’ve grown out of wanting our groomsmen to be film stars,’ I laughed. ‘So you have an image when you think about it?’
‘You live in your head too much, Ivy,’ she said, waving me off.
I should have known right away that something was wrong.
I didn’t sneak in like a dramatic film. I just walked confidently through the doors, trying to give the impression that I was supposed to be there.