Let Your Bestie Have My Dress

My fiancs favorite promise was next time.

When my chronic stomach ulcer flared up and landed me in the hospital, he said hed accompany me to my follow-up next time.

When I had to work late on my birthday, he said hed make it up to me next time.

When I received my acceptance letter from the prestigious hospital in London, he said we'd celebrate "next time".

But his "next time" always belonged to Amber.

When she went through a breakup, he drove across three state lines at two in the morning just to sit with her.

When she was moving, he bailed on meeting my parents for the first time so he could carry her boxes.

When she offhandedly mentioned wanting to see the ocean, he booked two plane tickets to the coast immediately.

I asked him, "What about our wedding?"

Chase merely knit his brows, looking thoroughly irritated.

"Shes in a fragile place right now, Nancy. Don't start drama over this."

I stared at the email notification delaying our wedding, my hands freezing over the keyboard.

Later, Amber sent a voice note. Her voice was light, laced with a delicate, performative giggle.

"Oh, don't be mad, sweetie! Chase said the wedding can always be postponed, but seeing the oceanthis oceanis a once-in-a-lifetime thing."

I didn't reply.

Instead, I opened an email from the London hospital. They were asking if I could move my start date up.

I wanted to wait for one real explanation from him.

But when he called, his tone was nothing but impatient.

"Drop it, Nancy. Its just a one-week delay. I'll bring you back some seashells."

I exhaled slowly. There would be no next time.

Some things, and some people, have an expiration date.

"Its just a one-week delay. Do you really have to pick a fight with me right now?"

Chases voice cut through the receiver, backgrounded by the rhythmic, distant crash of waves.

"I'm not picking a fight," I said.

He paused. He hadnt expected me to sound this hollow, this quiet.

"Good. Ambers been incredibly unstable lately. I'm just here to help her clear her head for a couple of days."

He sighed. "Don't go snooping around or asking questions. It makes you look incredibly petty."

My eyes drifted to the wedding itinerary lying on the desk.

It was a mess of red inkscrawled margin notes, crossed-out times, and detailed schedules. Every single edit had been made by me, alone.

Chases signature was on the first page, and only the first page.

When he signed it, hed tossed the pen aside and said, "Whatever you like, babe. Next time, I promise I'll actually sit down and look through it with you."

"Next time."

Those two words had been the background noise of our seven-year relationship.

"Chase," I whispered.

On his end, someone laughed.

Amber's voice floated through the speaker. "Chase, hurry up! The sunset is almost gone!"

"Coming!" Chase called out. When he spoke to me again, his words rushed together. "Is there anything else? If not, Im hanging up."

I stared at the open email on my laptop screen. "What if I told you I'm not waiting around this time?"

Chase let out a sharp, dismissive laugh.

"Nancy, do you have to use this card every single time?"

"I know how much this wedding means to you. I know you're not going to walk away from me. Just calm down for a few days, okay? I'll bring you some shells when I get back."

"Okay."

He always did that. A careless, breezy "okay" to settle things he didn't want to deal with.

I said nothing.

In the background, Ambers voice chimed in. "Is she mad again? Maybe I should talk to her and explain..."

Chase mutters back, not even bothering to cover the receiver. "No, don't worry about it. Shes just throwing a fit. Leave her alone for a bit and she'll get over it."

My grip loosened. The call disconnected.

As the screen went black, it reflected my pale face. A familiar, sharp ache bloomed in the pit of my stomach.

I pulled open my desk drawer. Inside was a small glass jar filled with tiny, perfect seashells.

Seven years ago, on our very first trip to the beach, Chase had knelt in the wet sand for hours. Hed sifted through hundreds of shells before choosing one flawless specimen and pressing it into my palm.

"Every time I make you wait," hed whispered, "I'll give you another one to make up for it."

The jar had grown full. The waiting had grown endless.

I pulled the jar out and tipped it directly into the trash bag by my feet.

My phone buzzed. It was an Instagram notificationa post from Amber.

In the photo, she was silhouetted against a golden sunset, wearing Chase's heavy wool coat. In her outstretched hand, she held a delicate bracelet made of polished shells.

Her caption read: "Someone said this was to dry my tears."

I looked at it for a long, silent moment.

Then, I clicked over to my email and hit reply to the hospital in London.

"I can start early. I can leave tonight."

Once the email sent, I walked into the bedroom and pulled my suitcase from the closet.

I had just unzipped it when I heard the sound of keys rattling in the front door.

Before I could turn around, Chases mother pushed the door open. She was holding a stack of wedding invitations, her face set in a hard, disapproving line.

"Nancy, Chase tells me you're throwing a tantrum over Amber again?"

I gripped the handle of my suitcase and stayed silent.

Mrs. Morton threw the invitations onto the coffee table with a heavy sigh.

"You know Amber grew up without parents. Its only natural that Chase looks out for her. Youre about to become a Mortonyou need to learn to have some grace."

"The wedding has been postponed, Mrs. Morton," I said quietly.

"A week's delay isn't a cancellation," she snapped, her eyes falling on my open suitcase. "What on earth are you doing?"

I slid my passport into the inner pocket of my bag. "Im moving to London."

Her expression turned to sheer disbelief. "Have you lost your mind? The wedding is next week, and youre leaving the country?"

"She isn't going anywhere."

Chases cold, dry voice cut through the room. I hadnt heard him come in.

He was still carrying the scent of the oceancold air and salt. In his hand, he held a clear plastic bag containing a few wet, sandy shells. Amber stood just behind him, her eyes rimmed with red.

Chase tossed the bag onto the floor in front of me.

"I brought the shells," he said, his tone flat. "Are we done with the drama now?"

The bag hit the hardwood floor with a dull thud, water splashing onto the cuffs of my jeans.

Amber immediately dropped to her knees to gather them. "Nancy, I am so incredibly sorry. This is all my fault. Chase was supposed to be tasting the catering options with you, but I was the one who begged him to take me to the water."

Chase frowned, grabbing her elbow to pull her back up. "Why are you apologizing to her? She's just being overly sensitive."

He looked at me, his sharp gaze softening only a fraction. "Nancy, Amber spent the entire drive back defending you. Don't take your issues out on her."

I didn't look at him. My eyes were fixed on the shell bracelet around Ambers wrist.

Specifically, the largest shell in the center. I recognized the slight, distinct pink hue on its edge.

It was the first shell Chase had ever given me. The one from seven years ago.

I had searched the apartment for it months ago, thinking Id lost it.

Now I knew where it was.

Sensing my gaze, Amber quickly tugged her sleeve down to cover her wrist, her eyes flitting away.

Chase followed my line of sight. His jaw tightened.

"Its just a bracelet, Nancy. She liked the shell, so I had a jeweler re-string it for her. Don't you have a whole jar of them in your drawer anyway?"

I looked up, meeting his eyes. "I threw them in the trash."

The room went entirely silent.

For the first time, a flicker of genuine shock crossed Chases face. "You threw them out?"

"Yes."

"Nancy, we collected those during our first year together." For a second, he looked like he actually remembered what those shells meant. But the vulnerability was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by irritation. "You're seriously throwing away our memories just to make a point?"

I zipped my suitcase shut. "I'm not trying to make a point. They're just useless now."

Mrs. Morton stepped forward, placing a heavy hand on my suitcase to stop me from moving it. "Nancy, lets not say things well regret. A fellowship abroad doesn't compare to the security of marrying into our family."

Amber sniffled, stepping up beside Chase. "Nancy, I know my presence is causing problems. Maybe I shouldn't come to the wedding at all. I can step down as your maid of honor."

Her tears began to fall right on cue.

Chase immediately turned his attention to her. "Amber, don't say that." He glared at me, his voice freezing over. "The wedding can be delayed, but Amber is going to be there. She is my best friend, and she is going to be part of our family."

"And if I say no?" I asked.

Chase let out a short, incredulous laugh. "You won't say no."

He stepped up to my suitcase, reached into the side pocket, and snatched my passport.

"Youre just baiting me to comfort you. Fine. Ill comfort you."

He pulled a small velvet box from his coat pocket and flipped it open. Inside was a delicate pearl brooch.

"Amber picked it out. She said it would look beautiful on your wedding dress."

I looked at the brooch. Across the surface of the pearl, there was a visible, jagged hairline crack.

Amber chimed in quickly. "It's vintage, Nancy! The crack is supposed to be thereit gives it character. Please don't misunderstand."

Chase pressed the box toward my hands. "Just take it. Stop looking for reasons to be angry."

I didn't take it.

My hands remained at my sides. The velvet box slipped through his fingers, hitting the floor and sliding under the edge of the sofa.

Chases patience finally snapped. "Nancy, what is it going to take to satisfy you?"

"Give me my passport," I said, my voice steady.

"When you've calmed down," he replied, sliding the passport into his breast pocket. "You're not going anywhere. Mom will help handle the final wedding details this week. Your stomach has been acting up anyway, so stop trying to run away."

So he did remember my stomach.

But when I had been admitted to the ER, he had been three towns over, buying a limited-edition collectible Amber had been crying about.

When I went in for my biopsy results, he told me "next time".

I looked down at the floor. "You're keeping me here against my will, Chase."

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Don't dramaticize this. I'm doing this for your own good."

Amber murmured from behind him. "Nancy, don't blame Chase. He's just terrified of you making a mistake you can't take back."

I stared at the two of them, standing shoulder to shoulder.

Suddenly, the apartment I had spent six months decorating felt entirely foreign. Like a stranger's house.

My phone screen lit up on the counter. It was another email from the hospital.

"If you wish to finalize your early start date, please submit your passport details within the next twenty-four hours."

Chase saw the notification and picked up my phone before I could reach it. "Ill write back and decline."

"Chase, put my phone down," I said, my voice cracking slightly.

He ignored me, typing rapidly. "You can think about fellowships later. Right now, your priority is our wedding, not running off to another country."

I grabbed his wrist. "That is my career."

Chase looked down at me, his eyes filled with a patronizing pity. "Nancy, you went to medical school for years. But lets be honestat the end of the day, it was always about having a respectable title when you married me, wasn't it?"

Mrs. Morton cleared her throat but didn't contradict him.

Amber put on a look of shock. "Chase, don't say that. Nancy worked incredibly hard."

Though she spoke in my defense, her eyes gleamed with a quiet, triumphant satisfaction.

I stared at Chase.

A long time ago, he hadnt spoken to me like this.

On the day I passed my board exams, he had waited outside the testing center with a small cake. He had looked at me with bright, hopeful eyes and said, "Nancy Cooper, you are going to be an incredible doctor."

Now, those same eyes looked at me and dismissed my life's work as a pre-marriage accessory.

I let go of his wrist. "Give me my phone and my passport."

He didn't. He hit send on the decline draft.

The screen flashed with a confirmation message.

In that exact moment, a sharp, white-hot spasm tore through my abdomen. The pain was so intense my entire body went numb. I leaned heavily against the back of a dining chair to keep from collapsing.

Amber rushed over. "Nancy, oh my gosh, are you okay? Let me get you some water."

As she turned, her sleeve caught my plastic pillbox on the counter, knocking it to the floor. The little white tablets scattered across the hardwood.

Chases brows knit together. "Are you taking those stomach meds again?"

I didn't answer. I slowly knelt down to pick up the pills.

He stood over me, his voice softening slightly. "If your stomach was hurting, why didn't you just say something?"

My fingers froze against the cold floor.

"I did."

The night the pain had gotten so bad I was sweating through my clothes, I had called him.

He had sounded thoroughly annoyed. "If you have enough energy to call me, you're fine, Nancy. Amber just had a panic attack over her ex. I cant leave her right now."

I quietly gathered the pills and placed them back in the box. "It doesn't matter."

Chase sighed, kneeling down to help me.

But before his hand could touch the floor, Amber let out a sharp cry.

"Ah! Chase, my finger... I think I cut it on one of the shells."

Chase stood up instantly.

He grabbed Amber's hand, examining her finger with tender concern. "How did you manage to do that? Let me see."

Ambers eyes filled with tears. "Its fine, just a scratch. Nancy clearly doesn't want me here. I should just go."

Mrs. Morton sighed. "Nancy, look at what your hostility is doing to this girl."

I stood up, holding my pillbox. "If she wants to go, let her."

Amber went pale.

Chase whipped his head around to look at me. "Nancy."

He rarely used my full name. When he did, it was always a warning to stay in my lane.

"Apologize to Amber. Right now."

I felt a hollow laugh bubble up in my throat. "What did you just say?"

"Apologize," he repeated, stepping in front of Amber as if to shield her from me. "She has been working her fingers to the bone to help with this wedding, even picking out accessories for you, and you treat her like she's the enemy."

"This is "my" wedding. Why is she doing anything for it?"

Amber bit her lip, looking thoroughly small. "I was only trying to help. Chase said you were always working, so he asked me to make some of the decisions."

I froze.

Chase avoided my eyes, but his mother spoke up.

"Of course she did. The catering menu, the party favors, the dress alterationsAmber took care of all of it. Your health is fragile, and you're always so particular. You should be thanking her for taking the burden off your shoulders."

I walked over to the table and picked up the wedding itinerary.

I flipped to the very last page.

Under the section for the bridal processional, the song I had spent weeks choosing had been crossed out in black ink.

In its place, someone had written Ambers favorite acoustic folk song.

Next to it was Chases signature.

I held the paper up to his face. "Did she choose this for me, too?"

Chase glanced at it, his expression hardening. "Its just a song, Nancy. Amber said it had a better rhythm for the walk."

"Just a song."

"Just a shell."

"Just a career."

I let out a soft, breathy laugh. "Then why don't you let her be the bride, too?"

Chase's face darkened. "Do you have to be so incredibly dramatic?"

I didn't answer him.

I knelt by the sofa, fished out the cracked pearl brooch from beneath the cushions, and pressed it into Amber's hand.

"If you like it so much, keep it."

Before Amber could speak, the doorbell rang.

The wedding planner stood on the threshold, holding a massive, garment-bagged wedding dress.

"Mr. Morton, the custom gown Ms. Amber ordered has arrived. Should we try it on now, or wait until tomorrow?"

The air in the living room turned to ice.

The planner looked from me to Amber, her professional smile freezing on her face. "Oh... I'm sorry. Did I say something wrong?"

Amber waved her hands frantically. "No, no! It's not mine! Its for Nancy. I was just the one communicating with the designer."

The planner looked down at her clipboard, thoroughly confused. "But the order sheet has the brides name listed as Amber."

I looked at Chase.

His chest rose and fell rapidly, but he quickly smoothed his expression. "Its just a clerical error."

My hands clenched into fists. "The song was an error. The dress was an error. Was postponing the hotel booking an error, too?"

"Nancy, do not do this in front of company," Chase warned, his voice dangerously low.

The planner set the gown down, keeping her head low, wishing she could disappear.

Ambers tears fell freely now. "Nancy, I swear I didn't know. I was talking to the designer so much that she must have gotten confused."

I walked over and unzipped the garment bag.

The dress was spectacularlayers of delicate lace, a tapered waist, and intricate beadwork.

But it was not my size. And it was certainly not my style.

I had always wanted something clean, sleek, and modern.

This dress was a fairytale ballgownthe exact design Amber had saved on her public boards for years.

Chase stepped up beside me. "If you don't like it, we can have it altered."

"Is there even time?"

"We postponed the wedding by a week. Theres plenty of time."

He said it so casually.

The postponement hadn't been about Ambers fragile mental state at all. It had been to give the designer time to alter Ambers dream dress for me.

I gripped the plastic of the garment bag so hard my knuckles turned white.

"Chase... do you actually want to marry me?"

A look of pure frustration crossed his face. "The invitations are sent. The deposit is paid. My mother is standing right here. Why are you asking such a ridiculous question?"

Mrs. Morton stepped in, trying to smooth things over. "Alright, lets all calm down. Its just a dress. Nancy, don't be so stubborn. Amber is roughly your size anyway. It wouldn't hurt for her to try it on to see how the fabric drapes."

Amber shook her head quickly. "No, Mrs. Morton, I couldn't. Nancy will just hate me more."

Mrs. Morton patted her shoulder. "You're too sweet for your own good, sweetheart."

Chase looked at me. "Since you're clearly not in the mood to try it, let Amber do it. Once we see how it looks, we can adjust it to your measurements."

I stared at him, feeling a cold sensation wash over me. "You want me to stand here and watch your best friend try on my wedding dress?"

He remained silent for a beat. "Its the most logical way to get this sorted out quickly."

The planner whispered from the corner of the room. "Actually, Mr. Morton... the bodice was patterned specifically to Ms. Amber's proportions. Altering it to fit Ms. Cooper would completely ruin the structure of the gown."

Chases expression curdled.

Amber covered her face with her hands. "Don't say another word. I'll just leave. I'll leave and I won't come back."

She bolted toward the front door.

Chase didn't hesitate. He chased after her, catching her arm at the threshold. "You don't have to leave."

He turned back to look at me, his eyes demanding surrender. "Nancy, lets settle this once and for all. What matters more to you? This dress, or our future together?"

I looked at his hand wrapped tightly around Ambers wrist.

The clarity was almost blinding.

"Neither," I said quietly.

Chase blinked. "What?"

I turned and walked toward the bedroom.

Chase caught up to me in three strides, blocking the doorway. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I told you. I'm leaving."

"I said we'll talk when you've calmed down."

I looked up, meeting his eyes. "I have never been more calm in my life."

He stared at me for a long moment, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his lips. "You just want me to choose you. That's what this is."

He pulled my passport from his breast pocket, letting it dangle between his fingers.

"Fine. Apologize to Amber. Admit youre being paranoid, and Ill give this back to you right now."

Amber whimpered. "Chase, please don't do this. You're going to break her heart."

Chase didn't look at her. He kept his eyes on me, completely confident that I would break. He knew me. He knew I always yielded in the end.

The hallway light caught the worn edges of my passport cover.

I remembered the day I received it, right after getting my first international medical exchange. Chase had held me tight and promised, "No matter how far you fly, I'll always be there to bring you home."

My throat tightened. I reached out for the passport.

He pulled it back. "Apology first."

Mrs. Morton sighed from the living room. "Nancy, just say you're sorry. Don't make a scene over nothing."

Amber kept her head down, her voice small and delicate. "Nancy, if you don't want to apologize, I understand. I just hate seeing Chase caught in the middle of our mess. It's so exhausting for him."

I looked at the three of them.

I realized I had absolutely nothing left to say.

I picked up a pen from the console table, turned the wedding itinerary over, and wrote a single sentence on the blank backing paper:

"I, Nancy Cooper, hereby cancel my wedding to Chase Morton."

The smug satisfaction drained from Chases face. "What is this supposed to mean?"

I didn't answer. I grabbed my suitcase, walked past him, and opened the front door.

Chase lunged forward, grabbing my wrist. "Nancy, stop playing games."

"Let go of me."

"If you walk out that door today, I swear to God I will not chase you."

I wrenched my wrist from his grip.

Down the hall, the elevator dinged, its doors sliding open.

As I stepped inside, Chases voice echoed down the corridor. "If you leave, the wedding is still happening next week! Do you hear me?"

The elevator doors slowly slid shut.

The last image I had of him was his face twisted in absolute certaintythe absolute belief that I would come crawling back.

But some birds, once they find the open sky, never look down.