A week before my wedding, my husband’s female best friend replaced my name with hers on every ceremony program except one. He told me not to make a scene.
Seven days before my wedding, two cardboard boxes showed up at our townhouse.
I had spent four months designing what was inside them.
Two hundred and fifty letterpress ceremony programs, printed on thick cotton paper with a line from my late father’s handwriting pressed into the bottom of every page.
I cut open the first box at the kitchen island while my husband, Evan, was on a work call in the living room.
Tessa Grant was sitting across from me drinking iced coffee.
She had been helping with some of the wedding stationery because she did freelance branding work and had known Evan since kindergarten.
I pulled out the first program.
At the top, in dark green ink, it said:
Evan Mercer & Tessa Grant
I stared at it.
Then I pulled out another one.
Same names.
Third one.
Same.
By the tenth, my hands were shaking.
“Tessa.”
She looked up from her phone.
“What?”
