Because of my fragile health, my best friend, Eva, kept me on a tight leash growing up. She always said the same thing whenever I wanted to try something new: “Leah, you can’t take risks.” For years, I mistook those words for love, right up until I watched her slide my wedding ring onto her finger while my fiancé smiled.
Chapter 2
I did not cancel the wedding.
Not yet.
I knew what would happen if I announced I was leaving. David would become gentle. Eva would become frightened. His mother would call. Doctors would suddenly be invoked. My suitcase might mysteriously disappear because someone was “worried about me traveling alone.”
So I smiled.
I attended wedding appointments.
I let them continue rehearsing their little play.
The following afternoon, David took me to meet his parents before the wedding.
I brought pastries his mother loved, a bottle of bourbon for his father, and a bracelet for his grandmother.
When we pulled into the driveway, Eva was already there.
She sat beside David’s grandmother in the garden.
My wedding ring was still on her finger.
His mother, Margaret, greeted Eva like family.
“I made those ribs you wanted.”
Eva laughed.
Then she noticed me and put on her apologetic expression.
“Leah, I came early to test the waters. I figured meeting David’s parents might make you anxious.”
I nearly admired the audacity.
“You tested his parents?”
She missed the sarcasm.
“Exactly.”
At dinner, Margaret asked whether I had chosen a wedding dress.
Eva answered.
“Leah looks beautiful in satin. I tried a few styles for her.”
Of course she had.
Then Margaret brought out a velvet case containing a family heirloom bracelet.
“This belonged to David’s grandmother. Traditionally, it goes to the bride.”
She looked at Eva.
“Try it on for Leah.”
The diamonds closed perfectly around Eva’s wrist.
David’s grandmother smiled.
“Would you look at that? Perfect.”
Eva turned toward me.
“Don’t misunderstand.”
“I don’t.”
David watched me carefully.
I smiled.
“It suits you.”
That unsettled him more than anger would have.
After dinner, I overheard Margaret speaking quietly to David.
“Honestly, if you weren’t committed to Leah, Eva is exactly the daughter-in-law I would’ve chosen.”
Eva heard too.
She hurried to protest.
“Please don’t say that. Leah is sensitive.”
Margaret patted her hand.
“Of course. We all have to be careful with Leah.”
On the drive home, David finally snapped.
“My mother didn’t mean anything.”
“I didn’t say she did.”
“You’re doing that thing.”
“What thing?”
“Acting wounded.”
I looked out the window.
He grew more irritated.
“Leah, can you stop behaving like everyone is against you?”
That night, I booked my flight.
Departure: three weeks before the wedding.
One-way.
The bridal makeup trial came next.
When I entered the salon, Eva was sitting in my chair wearing my veil.
The makeup artist smiled.
“Your friend volunteered to test the products because she said you have severe allergies.”
Eva turned.
“No reaction. Completely safe.”
I looked past her.
My wedding dress hung behind a curtain.
The waist had been pinned smaller.
“Who wore this?”
Eva’s smile weakened.
“I tried it on. Only to make sure it wasn’t too heavy.”
I touched the pins.
“You wore my wedding dress.”
“I was helping.”
She hurried to remove the veil and held it toward me.
“Here.”
I didn’t take it.
David frowned.
“What now?”
“It’s dirty.”
Eva’s face collapsed.
David’s eyes hardened.
“Apologize.”
“For what?”
“For humiliating her.”
I looked at him.
“Have you ever once considered whether I was humiliated?”
He stared back as though the question itself were unreasonable.
Later, the planner handed us a vow journal.
Eva immediately opened it.
“I’ll test the format for Leah.”
She read the first prompt aloud.
When did your heart first flutter?
Eva looked at David.
“When was yours?”
“High school.”
She giggled.
“The day Leah collapsed?”
David smiled faintly.
“You cried harder than she did.”
Eva blushed.
The planner looked between them.
“You two have quite a history.”
David did not correct her.
Eva handed me the journal.
“Your turn.”
I took the pen.
On the first page, beneath the question about love, I wrote three words.
This ends here.
Eva leaned over.
Her smile vanished.
“That’s horrible luck.”
David read it.
“What are you trying to prove?”
“Nothing.”
My phone vibrated.
A message from the medical center.
Your final travel clearance is ready.
On the drive home, Eva began crying about the veil.
“I won’t test anything for Leah anymore.”
David frowned.
“If you don’t, who will?”
“She thinks I’m dirty.”
He pulled the car sharply to the curb.
“Leah, apologize.”
“No.”
His face went rigid.
“Get out.”
Eva gasped.
“David—”
He unlocked the doors.
“You think you can handle everything yourself? Fine. Walk home. Come back when you’re ready to apologize.”
For years, the threat of being alone had terrified me.
That night, I opened the door.
“Okay.”
I stepped onto the sidewalk.
David looked genuinely surprised.
Then he drove away with Eva.
I called a cab.
But I did not go home.
I went to the medical center.
A nurse handed me a folder.
“Everything looks excellent, Ms. Gray.”
“I can fly?”
“Absolutely.”
“Hike?”
“In reasonable conditions.”
“Drink coffee?”
She laughed.
“Yes.”
“Cold weather?”
“Wear a coat like everybody else.”
I stared at her.
“What about my heart?”
“Your heart is normal.”
Those four words nearly made me cry.
At one in the morning, I returned to the apartment.
I packed the last of my clothes.
I left my apartment key on the vanity beside David’s credit card.
The vow journal went on top.
Then I placed my medical clearance beneath it.
David had texted seventeen times.
Have you cooled down?
I’m at Eva’s.
Come here and apologize so we can move on.
You know walking around alone at night isn’t safe for you.
Leah, answer me.
I turned off my phone.
At 4:40 a.m., I took my suitcase downstairs.
At 7:15, my plane left New York.
And for the first time in eleven years, I went somewhere nobody had tested for me first.
