“Champagne!” she cries out happily, and I don’t fight the smile that creeps over my lips.
I’m really getting married. My heart flutters in my chest and I can’t distinguish between excitement and anxiety; it’s all the same when it’s wrapped up together. There’s a twist of nausea in my stomach, so I tip the glass back and swallow down the champagne before that sensation can take hold.
“I can’t believe it,” Sadie chuckles in my ear, and she relaxes back into the plush cream couch, crossing her legs and popping a square of Turkish delight into her mouth. “Where can I find an Italian Greek God with enough money to treat me like this? I deserve it!”
“You do,” I reply, leaning towards the glass table and setting down my empty glass, replacing it with another.
“Who knew, out ofallof us, it would be you!” exclaims Kimmy and her lips purse, brow furrowing. “Perhaps I need to rethink my life. If guys like Killian dig bookworm girls like you, I’m on the wrong path.”
If only you knew the truth.
I’m happy to let her think that, though, and I rise from the couch, sipping the alcohol as I wander the boutique and take in the dresses on display. There’s everything from low-neckline sleek dresses to large Cinderella ballgowns, and I can’t decide which one is for me. I’d always known, deep down, that my father would likely marry me off, but I had ignored that part for so long. In doing so, I’d also ignored daydreaming about what my wedding could be like.
Now it’s here, and I have no clue what I want.
I want to look good for Killian.
That’s all that matters to me right now. Everything else has crumbled, and he has remained sure and steady. He became so open in his affection so quickly after he poured his heart out to me the other night, like it no longer had to be a secret. It’s given me hope. I know that together, we can beamazing.
Unless he finds out you’re a no-good liar.
If he finds out, he certainly won’t marry me. He already doesn’t need to. And he certainly won’twant to.
My stomach twists at the thought, and I drain my glass.
“Miss Ryan?”
I turn on my heel, swallowing down the lies that threaten to strangle me and come face to face with Angela’s perfect smile. She’s like a doll, perfectly poised and bright like the large white walls and floor-to-ceiling gold-rimmed mirrors behind her.
“We’re ready for you.”
Kimmy and Sadie scream in glee as Angela takes the glass from my hand, sets it down, and then takes my arm. She leads me through the curtain, and Kimmy and Sadie’s giggling fades to the background as I’m guided up some steps and onto a white, brightly lit platform. The circular room has dresses of all kinds hanging wall to wall, and heat skitters across my skin. I’m too hot and as I stand there, it’s like I’m too exposed. The spotlight is going to be on me all day, and that makes nausea twist up my throat.
“Have you given any thought to what kind of dress you would like?” Angela asks as she carefully rummages through the rack of dresses.
“Uhm… no,” I answer sincerely, “everything’s been a bit of a whirlwind, if I’m honest.”
“Oh, howromantic,” Angela coos, and she gently pulls a dress from the rack, holding it aloft with a wide smile. “Let's start with this one, and we can work out what you like as we go. How does that sound?”
I can only nod as Angela instructs me to strip. Thank goodness I covered up my bruises from my time with Killian. Any kind of markings could give away what we’ve been up to and despite everything he has done, I can’t face my father if he were to learn I was no longer a virgin before the wedding. Hell, I couldn’t face anyone. My black leggings and purple silk shirt pool on the floor next to me, and Angela steps up onto the platform to help me into her first choice.
The first dress is a large ball gown with a sweetheart neckline and a boned bodice that pulls so tight I almost can’t breathe. It’s large and heavy and not my favorite.
“You look like a princess!” Sadie squeals when she sees me and her enthusiasm is infectious, even if I’m certain I’d pass out wearing this dress. I take a few steps and immediately catch my foot on the hem, stumbling over myself. Kimmy bursts into peals of laughter and Angela catches my elbow, alarmed.
“Not this dress,” she decides.
The next is a sleek dress that fans out to a mermaid tail. It has a softer bodice and flared, satin sleeves that caress my shoulders as I walk. I twirl for my girls and they both clap their hands together, the compliments flooding forth.
“You look beautiful!”
“Stunning!”
“Maybe a bit nun-ish,” Kimmy comments after a moment and I laugh. Not this one either.
The third dress Angela picks for me is tea length with a ball skirt that flares out around my knees. With a pair of cream pumps to match, I step out and pose for my girls. The square neckline feels more like a box and as I take a few deep breaths to test how it feels, the entire dress rises with my shoulders.
“Don’t worry,” Angela assures me, “we can make alterations.”