The insult of the wristband, the humiliation.
And now this.
They’ taken my support and spin it behind my back on a car.
“Thanks for telling me,” I said finally, voice low.
“There’s more,” he said after a pause. “You might want to check Zoe’s wedding registry page. Not the public one, the private one she sent out to her bridal party.”
I opened my laptop with shaky fingers and clicked through my emails trying to find the link.
I hadn’t been included in the group email, but I remembered the domain.
A few clicks later, I was in.
It was like being slapped twice.
There was a section labeled friends and VIPs with an exclusive list of extra contributions and wishlist items.
One of them at the top was a spa honeymoon upgrade fund.
Next to it, my name listed as a confirmed contributor, $5,000.
I hadn’t signed off on that.
I hadn’t even seen it.
They had used my name publicly to show off a contribution I hadn’t even agreed to, probably to impress Jordan’s family or to make it look like they had more support than they actually did.
I stared at the screen for what felt like forever.
Then my phone buzzed again.
This time it was Zoe.
She’d finally decided to text.
“Can we talk? I feel like yesterday got out of hand.”
Out of hand.
Out of hand was what you said when someone knocked over a drink or tripped over a chair.
This wasn’t out of hand.
This was calculated, hidden, cruel.
And I wasn’t even sure if I had the words to answer her.
Not yet.
But I had questions, a lot of them.
And the more I thought about it, the more I realized this went deeper than a wedding.