2

At two in the morning, Adrian called.

"Where are you?"

"The studio."

"I'm coming to get you right now."

Then Serena's voice came through on his end of the line. "Adrian, my head hurts."

He asked her straight away whether she wanted to go to the hospital.

I hung up.

A moment later, a text came in: "Serena's in a bad way. I'm staying with her tonight."

"I'll have the driver pick you up in the morning."

"Be good and listen to me. Stop saying things like calling off the wedding."

I didn't reply.

Adrian and I had opened the studio together right after college.

He handled marketing and the books. I handled design and construction.

In our hardest days we were crammed into a two-hundred-square-foot room and wouldn't even run the air conditioning.

He said that once we were married, he would change the label to my name.

Six months ago, Serena quit her job and came to work at the shop.

She couldn't sketch and she couldn't sew. All she did was model the gowns for photos.

Then, without telling me, Adrian and Serena renamed the studio's Instagram account White Veil.

I asked why it wasn't my name.

He said, "She brings customers in. There's no need to keep score inside a family."

And back then I actually believed him.

Near dawn, while I was going through the books, Chloe suddenly said, "Nora, they're here."

Serena stood in front of the display window in a bathrobe, with Adrian behind her carrying breakfast.

He set the milk and a sandwich down in front of me. "The makeup artist gets here at seven thirty. Don't hold things up."

But Serena had her eye on the gown, and she reached out for the skirt. "You really cut the names out?"

"Don't touch it."

She didn't pull her hand back. "You're wearing it today anyway. One touch isn't going to hurt."

"That one's already sold."

Adrian's face darkened. "Are you done? You spent four months on that dress, and now you're calling off the wedding over one joke?"

I looked at him. "Give me back the ring."

He touched his pocket and didn't move.

Serena walked over. "Is this about the three thousand? I'll give it back to him. Happy now?"

She held up her phone.

Below that transfer were more than a dozen others for the same amount.

[She gave up her birthday.]

[She agreed to let you wear the bridesmaid dress for the promo shoot.]

[She handed over the gemstones your mother gave her.]

[She backed out of the class reunion.]

Every single one of them had to do with me.

I reached out to see the screen better, and she snatched the phone back.

Adrian stepped in front of her. "It's a little bet between friends. There's no need to blow it up."

"And every time the bet is on me?"

"Because you're easygoing. That's the only reason anyone dares to joke around."

All at once I thought back to those baffling arguments of the past few years.

Serena liked the route I had planned for my graduation trip, so he made me cancel my flight.

She wanted to stay in our new apartment, so he handed over the spare key.

She said she felt sick on our anniversary, so he left me and watched movies with her all night.

Every time I gave way, she was especially pleased.

So all along, my patience had been their game.

"Whose idea was it in the first place?"

Adrian looked away from me. "I don't remember."

Serena, though, smiled. "It was Adrian.

"He said you had the softest heart, that a couple of sweet words and you'd agree to anything. He said your best quality was being sensible, which made you good marriage material."

Good marriage material.

Not because he loved me.

Only because I was easy to manage.

I packed up my laptop and stood to go.

Adrian blocked my way. "What about the wedding?"

"Go ahead."

"How do we go ahead without a bride?"

I walked straight past him.

Behind me, Serena said in a lazy drawl, "Adrian, I told you she'd drag it out longer this time."

"Enough!"

It was the first time he had ever spoken harshly to her.

It was just far too late.