Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
MAEVE
“ H old still, Maeve,” Aunt Orla snapped, digging her nails into my shoulders to push me back into the chair. “If you want your makeup to look nice, you need to stop fidgeting .”
“Sorry, Aunt Orla,” I murmured, squinting up at Shannon while she swiped some scary-looking bright pink powder across my cheeks.
It was the morning of my wedding, and I was trembling not only on the outside but the inside, too. My stomach felt like a tornado was twisting inside me, and my palms were clammy with nerves.
If I were honest, I never thought this day would come. I’d resigned myself to the fact that I wasn’t the type of girl men flocked to. I wasn’t traditionally beautiful or remotely sexy. Geeky men were hot, but geeky girls didn’t seem to command the same appeal.
At least this geeky girl didn’t.
My attributes came from within. I was smart and imaginative and could win gold in the debate Olympics. I knew I had a good heart, and I loved the girl I was. But the things I felt made me attractive weren’t coveted by the opposite sex.
I’d been okay with that. I had great friends and a life I loved. Learning was my superpower, and it ran deep, but lately, a tiny part of me wished I could be more like my stepsisters.
Simply, I wanted Callum to be as proud to marry me as I was to marry him.
Memories from the night before flashed through my mind, and my cheeks heated.
Maureen had arranged a small bachelorette party here in the house. Aislynn came, along with Emily. We played music, drank champagne, and had a wonderful time—except for Orla and my stepsisters, who whispered in the corner while throwing me catty looks.
I didn’t care. I had one more night left in Patrick’s house, and then I’d be free. I couldn’t wait to go to Wyoming and begin a new life, away from all the bitchiness and drama; plus, the prospect of having Maureen as my mother-in-law made my heart swell.
As the party began to wind up, Callum came home from Liam’s club and joined us for a nightcap. To my delight, he was charming and attentive, and it put my mind at rest because I hadn’t seen him much during the week and was beginning to think he was avoiding me. Therefore, when he showered me with attention, my heart fluttered, and suddenly, I couldn’t quite believe that this handsome, strong, hardworking man was about to be my husband.
The night turned weird when Shannon and Erin sidled up to us, full of smiles and coy looks, and offered to help me get ready today.
Callum had looked on approvingly, so I didn’t have much choice but to accept, and honestly, I needed the help, so here we were.
My scalp tugged, and I winced.
“There,” Erin crowed, spraying my backcombed roots. “You look great.”
“I just need to do her lipstick,” Shannon said decisively, her eyes roaming over my face while she inspected her handiwork. She picked up a scarily bright pink tube of lip gloss and unscrewed the wand.
“Are you sure that’ll suit me?” I asked, my eyes widening at the sickly color. “I’m a bit pale for such a bright shade.”
“It doesn’t look like that when it’s on,” Shannon assured me. “It always looks brighter in the tube. It goes on almost clear. You don’t know anything about makeup, Maeve. Leave it to me.” She swiped the gooey gloss onto my lips and stepped back, casting a critical glance over my face. “There. Much better.”
I smiled, my heart softening at how amazing my stepsisters and step-aunt were being.
I’d settled on wearing my mammy’s wedding dress. It was way too ruffly for me and quite dated, but Orla had promised she’d take it to a seamstress and get it modernized. I’d told her I didn’t want anything revealing. A boob falling out of my dress on my wedding day with Father Michael looking on certainly wasn’t on my bingo card.
Erin moved to my back and started unrolling the heated curlers from my hair. “I’ll just finish off here, and we’ll do the big reveal.”
“Did it work?” I asked excitedly.
“It looks great,” Erin exclaimed. “The heat’s relaxed the frizz too. You’ve got some fifties pin-up curls going on, Maeve. Your hair’s never looked better.”
I blinked. “Really?”
“Really.” She smiled knowingly. “Callum won’t believe his eyes when he sees you.”
“He’ll be blown away,” Shannon added, her mouth twisting with humor. “He’ll take one look at you and?—”
“Girls!” Orla snapped. “Stop gabbing. We have to leave this house in ten minutes, and Maeve still has to put her dress on.”
An uneasy feeling swept through my stomach just as Erin began to tease my hair. “Are you sure it’s okay?” I asked.
“It’ll look like nothing anyone’s ever seen before,” she crowed.
The hardness of her tone made my eyes lift to catch Shannon smirking at Orla, whose mouth was twisted into a catty smile.
The uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach intensified.
These women had been bitches toward me since I’d moved into their house when I was six. They’d never done anything to help me. In fact, all they’d ever done was try to hurt me.
“Get me a mirror,” I demanded, glaring at Shannon, who suddenly couldn’t quite meet my eyes.
“Och,” Orla exclaimed, her voice rising. “Let it be a surprise, Maeve.”
“Get me a mirror,” I ordered again, louder that time. I pushed Erin’s hands away and quickly stood before rushing toward the full-length mirror in the corner of the room.
As I came into view, my steps faltered, and I gasped.
My hair looked like I’d stuck my finger in an electrical socket. A strangled cry escaped my throat, and my hands flew to my mouth in horror at my red locks, which were stuck out in a big ball of frizz. I groaned at the bright blue eyeshadow and thick, clumpy mascara. The bright pink of my lips matched the cerise smears of blusher across my cheeks that resembled a circus clown.
How could I marry Callum O’Shea when I looked like a big ginger microphone head who’d gotten into her mom’s makeup and had a seizure while applying it?
Sweet baby Jesus.
“What did you do?” I shrieked, whipping around to face my stepsisters.
Three pairs of eyes flicked over me, and three identical smirks twisted cruelly across their identical lips.
“Why?” I demanded, storming toward Erin. “What did I ever do to you?”
Her eyes slashed toward her mom, full of uncertainty. “Well?—”
“You hate me so much that you’d sabotage my wedding day?” I took another step closer and chest-bumped her backward.
“Oh, Maeve,” Orla drawled. “Don’t be so dramatic. You look fine.”
I spun to face her. “Fine?” I shrieked. “I look like a fucking clown!”
“You are a fucking clown,” Shannon muttered. “I mean, do you really think you’ll live happily ever after with Callum O’Shea? Come on, Maeve. He’s only marrying you because he couldn’t get one of us.”
My head jerked back to face her. “You’re lying.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re the poor relation, and you look like shit. Your perfect fiancé asked Da for me and then Erin before he was made to settle for you.” She looked me up and down with an exasperated expression on her face. “Grow up, Maeve, this isn’t your fairy tale, and believe me, Callum O’Shea isn’t your Prince Charming. That man will screw you over the second you get back to his bar.” She let out a biting laugh. “Hell, he already has.”
I searched Shannon’s eyes for any sign of subterfuge, but there was none. A coldness washed through me because it was becoming clear that, yet again, I was the consolation prize. All my life, the people who were supposed to want the best for me were the ones I couldn’t trust.
“Get out,” I hissed through gritted teeth. “I’m done with you all.”
My tone was unwavering, but underneath my bravado, my heart contracted painfully.
Orla’s mouth curved into a catty smile. “In that case, you can finish getting ready by yourself. Your dress is hanging in the closet...” Her voice trailed off as a loud buzz sounded from her cell phone. “That’ll be the cars arriving. We’ll see you at the church. Hurry now; your car won’t wait forever, and Father Michael can’t be delayed because he’s got another wedding straight after yours.” A nasty smile spread across her face, and she checked her watch. “You’ve got about three minutes.” With a toss of her hair, she sashayed to the door with Shannon and Erin following her, and they left without a backward glance.
Seething, I watched them leave, one part of me frozen in disbelief, the other part consciously having to stop myself from screaming obscenities after them.
Why did I think that after everything they’d done to me over the years, they’d suddenly change and become decent people?
But more to the point, why was I so trusting and stupid?
My eyes slid to the mirror again, and another pained cry escaped me as I caught a glimpse of my shitty blue eyeshadow. Mind whirring, I grabbed my cell from the bed and pressed the number of the only woman I knew who could help me. She was beautiful and kind, and her hair and makeup always looked awesome. I just hoped she didn’t think I was a madwoman. I’d only gotten to know her this week, so I ran the risk of her thinking I was weird and desperate. Though, at that precise moment, I was clearly both.
I clicked the speakerphone icon and waited. Every ring felt like it lasted an hour, and I prayed to God I could get to the church in time, looking normal instead of resembling the Joker from Batman .
“C’mon,” I murmured at the cell phone, tapping my foot impatiently. “Answer, please, let her answer.”
The line connected, and an unsure voice whispered, “Maeve?”
“Aislynn,” I cried. “I need your help.”
“Huh?” she replied. Clearly confused.
“My aunt and stepsisters have done my hair and makeup, and I look like a bad RuPaul impressionist without the ‘shante sashay’ thing going for them.”
“Whaaaat?” she shrieked.
“Can I put you on video call?” I begged. “I need you to help me. I don’t know a thing about hair and makeup. Can you look at me, please, and tell me what to do?”
“Wait while I go outside,” she whispered. “I’m sitting in the church. Callum’s already here with Donny and T.”
“Sweet Jesus,” I wailed.
“I know!” she wailed back. After a few seconds, she murmured, “Okay, I’m outside now. Let me see what I’m dealing with.”
I took a deep breath, clicked the cell onto video, held my phone up, and stared down the camera.
“Oh my God,” Aislynn yelled. “What did those bitches do?”
“Help me,” I begged. “Callum will take one look at me and run for the hills.”
“Okay, okay,” she chanted. “We can do this. First, wash your face clean. No makeup’s better than that. We’ll have to scrape your hair back into a tight bun at your nape. It’ll be simple and classy, but at least you’ll look normal.”
I spun and headed for the bathroom. “Will you stay on the line with me and help?”
“Course I will,” she murmured. “Do you think you can manage a bit of mascara and lip gloss?”
I winced. “I don’t own any.”
“It’s okay. You’ll be fine.” Her tone turned steely. “I’ll look after you.”
A lump formed in my throat at the feelings of gratitude washing through me.
All week, I’d been terrified of leaving New York, my friends, and especially Paddy, but knowing I’d have Aislynn made an unfamiliar feeling of comfort hit my insides.
The prospect of having a simple conversation where every word I said wasn’t pulled apart and criticized instilled a sense of warmth I’d never experienced before.
It was a profound emotion because I hadn’t felt it since the day I moved into Patrick’s house. Paddy loved me and had no problem showing me, but it wasn’t the same love I got from my parents.
Then Orla took a dislike to me, and I’d battled to not break apart ever since. I couldn’t wait to breathe easy again. It would be sad to lose Paddy, but I’d gain Maureen, Callum, Donny, and T. I’d also have Ash, and it was clear already that she’d be more of a sister than Shannon and Erin ever were.
But first, I had to wash off this ridiculous circus makeup.
Then, I had to get to the church on time if I wanted to marry Callum and leave Orla and my stepsisters behind.
Placing my cell on the shelf, I turned on the faucets, waiting for the water to turn lukewarm before grabbing a cloth and covering it with facewash. I scrubbed my face clean and immediately felt more like myself.
Aislynn instructed me how to scrape my hair back into a bun at my nape and smooth down the flyaway hairs until it looked neat. I showed her the results through FaceTime, and she gave me an approving nod. “That looks great. Good job. Now for the dress.”
The air thickened around me as a realization dawned. “Orla saw to it.”
The line fell deathly silent before Ash muttered, “Sweet Jesus, Maeve, I’m not sure I even want to see.”
I stared through the camera, biting my lip nervously. “She wouldn’t. Would she?”
Aislynn smiled encouragingly. “Just go rip the Band-Aid off. We don’t have a choice.”
“Why did I trust her?” I cried. “The last time she bought me a dress, she put me in a shit-colored meringue.”
Ash burst out laughing. “I don’t think you can get meringue in the color shit.”
“Aunt Orla managed to,” I muttered before letting out a resounding sigh. “Why did I trust her? I’m so stupid.”
“No,” Aislynn argued. “They’re to blame, not you.”
“I just wanted it so bad,” I murmured.
She furrowed her eyebrows questioningly.
“The dream,” I explained. “I just wanted a normal wedding day with my mother and sisters helping me get ready. All my life, I’ve dreamed of having a day like in the movies, with gorgeous white flowers and matching sashes swathed across the back of the chairs. I’ve yearned for music, dancing, feeding each other wedding cake, and a car with cans tied to the back bumper declaring my husband and I were ‘just married.’ For once, I wanted the dream.”
Tears sprung to Ash’s eyes. “You’ve got some of that, Maeve. You’ve got me and Mam, and you’ve got Callum.”
Aislynn’s statement was partly true. Even though Callum didn’t love me, he was kind. There was no doubt in my mind that Aislynn and Maureen would be special to me because they’d already proven they were more than I’d had before.
“Maeve,” Ash prompted. “The dress.”
My stomach clenched as I remembered, and I breathed, “Oh Jesus. The dress.”
“It’ll be okay,” she assured me. “Whatever happens, we’ll make it work.”
Chewing my lip, I muttered, “I’m scared to look.”
“We’ll make it right,” Aislynn promised. “This is the last day you’ll ever have to deal with them. Just do it.”
I swept toward the closet with my phone still in hand. “It was my mom’s dress. She looked so beautiful in her wedding pictures.” I laughed self-depreciatingly and began to babble nervously. “I’ve got her hair, well, at least the color. Hers wasn’t frizzy like mine. As you can tell, I’m not very beauty-minded. My hair is all I have left of her, and her wedding dress is the one thing she kept for me. If Orla did something to it...” My voice trailed off, the catch in my throat stopping me from saying the words, from even thinking them.
I reached up, took the zipper in my fingers, and slowly dragged it down the white plastic cover, all the while holding my breath.
What if they’d ruined it?
However, deep down, I knew. Those women had terrorized me since I was a little girl. There was no doubt in my mind they’d fired their final parting shot.
The zipper came away at the bottom of the garment cover, and I gently eased the plastic over the white frothy silk, holding the cell phone up for Ash.
A sharp pain shot through my chest, and I whimpered.
“Sweet baby Jesus,” Aislynn breathed down the cell phone. “What the hell did they do? I need to get Callum. Hang tight while I go back inside the church.”
Aislynn’s panicked voice registered somewhere, but her words didn’t sink in. All I could focus on was the monstrosity from the nineteen-eighties falling from the hanger.
Tears sprang into my eyes as I took in the countless deep ruffles falling from the shoulders into a deep V at the tummy area. The seamstress had sewn a cheap-looking choker onto the neckline and attached some weird see-through netting material to connect with the ugly, bunched-up, ruffled lace.
Jesus, help me. It was the ugliest dress I’d ever seen.
A tear tracked down my cheek.
How was I supposed to face people?
How was I supposed to face Callum?
I couldn’t get married, not today, and not in that.
Those bitches had won.
“Maeve!” a deep voice snapped. “Let me see it.”
My shocked gaze fell to the phone still in my hand.
“Maeve,” Callum’s voice demanded. “Hold the fucking phone up.”
As if on autopilot, I did as I was told.
After a few seconds, he stated, “It’s just a dress.”
My heart clenched painfully at the nonchalance in his tone. “No, Callum O’Shea, it’s not just a dress. It’s my wedding dress, the one my mammy left for me on her deathbed. The same dress I’ve been dreaming of getting married in since I lost her because it meant, in some way, she’d be with me.” My voice rose an octave. “One of my first memories is of laying on my mammy’s bed, gazing at that dress all laid out, while she told me all about her wedding to my da and how she wished one day for me to wear it because it had brought her such good luck, and she wanted the same for me.”
I brought a hand up to rub my tears away and felt a sharp pain in my eye. “Great, and now my contact lens is trying to blind me. Well, isn’t this just the best fecking day of my sad, miserable life?”
My head reared back as a laugh came from the phone, and I whispered incredulously, “Are you laughing at me, Callum O’Shea?”
“Look at me, Maeve,” he ordered gently.
I sighed. “I don’t want to. I just want to put my jeans on and move to the wilds of fucking Canada.”
A brief pause filled the air before Callum softly ordered, “Look at me, wife.”
My heart melted at the word ‘wife,’ and I held the phone up to my face.
My husband-to-be’s handsome face filled the screen, and he smiled broadly. “Where are your glasses?”
“I wanted to wear contact lenses today,” I whispered.
His face softened. “Take ‘em out. Put your glasses on and get into that dress. You’ve got a wedding to get to, and you’re already late.”
My shoulders slumped. “I can’t wear that.”
“And then they’ve won,” he pointed out. “You’re about to become an O’Shea, Maeve, and that means something. O’Sheas are proud and strong. O’Sheas win. You’re gonna get your ass in that damned dress, come to the church, and strut down the aisle like you’re on a fucking catwalk, and you’ll show those bitches who you are. Get it?”
I sighed. “Callum?—”
“Maeve,” he interrupted. “Do you get it?”
My gaze lifted to meet his, and slowly, I nodded. “Yeah. I get it.”
He jerked a nod. “Good. Don’t be long. The priest has another wedding after ours.”
I lowered my hand when Callum’s voice called, “Maeve!”
“Yeah?” I asked, holding the phone up again.
His stare flicked between mine. “Your eyes are stunning, but your glasses are cute, too. There’s no need to hide who you are.”
The screen went black, but my gaze stayed glued to it.
Callum O’Shea, family friend, bar owner, and Irish love god, thought my eyes were stunning and that my glasses were cute.
A sense of elation filled my chest.
Yippee!
The despair suddenly faded, and standing in my childhood room with a face scrubbed clean of makeup, I studied my ugly wedding dress hanging from the closet and suddenly burst into a fit of laughter.
I hoped it was a sign of things to come.