15. Izabella
IZABELLA
Brushing my hands down the front of my dress for the hundredth time in the last five minutes, I examine my reflection in the full-length mirror before me. When we got to the Winslows’ mansion, Gulliver got me a drink, then led me up to a gorgeous suite and told me to relax and get ready. That was an hour-and-a-half ago, and now I’m showered, dressed, and ready to go.
The person staring back at me in the mirror is both achingly familiar and a total stranger. To me, even though Penelope and I are identical, we look different. But as I stand here looking at my reflection, all I see is me, and it’s both freeing and terrifying. I just don’t seem to be able to look away.
The dress Fitzy picked is so beautiful, I don’t feel worthy to wear it. The skirt swishes just above my knees, and the front plunges low between my breasts but is made modest by the embroidered lace overlay and sleeves.
Instead of the poker straight style my sister chooses to wear, I’ve styled my hair in soft waves that frame my face and soften my angular cheekbones. My makeup is minimal, except for my bright red lips that pop vividly against the color of my dress and the white blonde of my hair.
I feel beautiful, and I don’t ever want to leave the bubble of this room, but I suppose this dress and the way I feel will act as armor while Gulliver tells everyone that this whole day has been a clusterfuck of his creation.
A knock at the door shatters my fortress of solitude, and I swallow back the urge to ignore whoever is on the other side. Reluctantly, I turn away from the mirror and cross the space to the door, pulling it open.
“Wow,” Gulliver says breathily, his eyes raking over my body from my head to my toes.
“Do I look okay?”
“You look beautiful, Izzy,” Gulliver says, his voice low and rough.
“Thank you,” I whisper, offering him a shy smile.
Instead of smiling back, he inhales sharply and offers me his arm, his expression almost a little regretful. “Shall we?”
“Or you could go, and I could stay up here?” I ask hopefully.
He shakes his head slowly. “You look too beautiful to stay hidden tonight, Little Ghost.”
Reluctantly, I sigh, taking his arm and letting him escort me down the winding staircase and into the awful white living room we sat in when I was here on Friday night. Several sets of eyes turn to watch us as we enter the room, and I balk at all the strangers staring at me. The only familiar faces are those of my own family, all of which are pointedly ignoring us.
“For those of you who haven’t had the pleasure before, let me present Miss Izabella Rhodes,” Gulliver announces.
Mr. Winslow separates himself from a group of people and walks over to us. His eyes sparkle a little when he sees me, and he laughs lightly. “I really thought Gulliver was joking when he said that Penelope had a twin, but here you are. You two really are identical, aren’t you?” he muses, lifting my hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back.
“Nice to see you again, Mr. Winslow,” I say quietly, uncomfortable with all of the scrutiny I can feel from the others in the room.
“Call me Donovan, especially now,” Mr. Winslow says playfully.
My brow furrows. “Especially now.” What could he mean by that? Does he mean especially now that his son caused a scene at mine and my sister’s expense, or especially now that he knows I exist?
Three more familiar faces move forward from the back of the room, and I recognize Gulliver’s friends. “Hello again, Izabella,” Kip, the only one whose name I can remember, says. “You look absolutely gorgeous.”
“Thank you, Kip,” I say, a slight blush coloring my cheeks.
“Let’s go and get a drink,” the blond-haired boy says, reaching for my free arm.
“You can’t steal her just yet, Davis. I need to say a few words first,” Gulliver says, smoothly pulling me closer to him and wrapping his arm around my back, holding me to his side.
“Ladies and gentlemen, could I have your attention for just a moment, please?” Gulliver says, his voice clear and loud enough to be heard over the chatter in the room.
All eyes fall on us, and everyone turns to face where we’re standing just in front of the doorway.
“I’m sure by now all of you will have heard what happened this morning at school,” Gulliver starts.
I cringe, wishing he would let me go so I could slink to the back of the room while he announces to everyone that his proposal was just an elaborate prank. But his grip keeps me firmly in place.
“Perhaps it wasn’t the most romantic of settings, but today I asked this beautiful woman to be my wife.”
Closing my eyes, I exhale slowly, willing the humiliation to be over.
“And I’m delighted to tell you that she said yes,” Gulliver declares.
My eyes fly open, and I twist my head to look at him. He releases his grip on my shoulders to grab my hand as he drops to one knee in front of me.
“Sweet Izzy, you have made me the happiest man in the world, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you,” he gushes, a sly smile plastered across his lips as he slides an enormous diamond ring onto my finger.
I open my mouth to speak, to shout at him and call him out for perpetuating this ridiculous charade, but before I get a chance, he’s upright, his hand cupping my cheek as he kisses me.
I’d like to say that I push him off, that I bite his lip or knee him in the junk and expose this cruel joke for what it is. But that’s not what I do. The moment his lips press against mine, I open and let him kiss me like this is all real and we’re actually a couple. I enjoy the sweet surrender and let him own me as his tongue invades my mouth, his fingers fisting my hair and holding me in place.
A minute, an hour, a lifetime? Eternity could have passed as he devours my mouth like our future is so solidly set in stone that nothing and no one could affect us. When he slowly pulls away, I don’t open my eyes, not ready for reality to set in, not ready for this to all be a joke, a cruel, mean joke.
His fingertips stroke over my cheek, and his lips whisper against mine. “I’m sorry.”
A sad sigh falls from my parted lips, and the sound seems to say a thousand things all at once. When he moves away, I feel the loss of him, even though this is all make believe.
I expect him to release me, but instead he pulls me close, his thumb rubbing over the huge diamond ring on my finger that feels like a noose around my throat. Opening my eyes, the real world assaults me as the strangers in the room all surge toward us with words of shocked, confused congratulations.