Chapter Thirty Seven
F Is For Frenemies To Lovers
Life is funny in the way it can surprise you.
Extraordinary events coming together in some grand symphony to create a beautiful song.
Pieces of a puzzle with uneven edges needing just the right placement, without so would end in you taking an entirely different path.
If I had been asked two years ago about what my future held, I may have told you some underwhelming tale of a life filled with late night missions and coming home to only a vibrator.
I may have said that I was filling my time with fucking random elitists or taking one of my fathers men out for a spin.
That’s why standing here in my wedding gown feels surreal.
I know somewhere in this building is a room that holds the love of my life.
He’s probably already ready, sipping his whiskey, and mildly bored.
These facts are all so strange two years later.
I never could have thought that I would be marrying the dark figure that stabbed me all that time ago.
“How do you feel?” Scarlett asks from behind me.
“I- I feel a lot of things.” I say, running my hands down the front of my dress trying to smooth the vibrations of erratic nerves. She nods understandably.
“That’s normal on your wedding day. I might think it a bit strange if you didn’t.” She chuckles, hoping to lighten the mood.
“How is he doing?” I ask.
“He’s shaking like a leaf, but don’t tell him I told you that.” This makes me finally laugh.
A knock at the door halts our laughter, just as my mother slides through the thinly opened doorway. Her smile and teary eyes only add to my growing emotions.
“Everly, you look absolutely beautiful, my love. This dress is exactly you.” She comes to stand at my side, gently turning me at the shoulders so that we both face the floor to ceiling mirrors.
Vivian was such a huge help with designing this piece for me.
I really wasn’t sure when she first proposed it but once I put it on that was it; I was sold.
Taking in the obsidian gown, my eyes dance over the fabric.
My shoulders are exposed leading to a near heart shaped bust. Tulle and lace over my arms loosely, connecting the corset.
The skirt is large and flowing as it cascades down to the floor with the same material and pattern of the sleeves.
Small black pearls adorn the dress at random.
The concept of a black wedding dress was a bit far-fetched even for me but when I told Vivian to do her worst, she made a masterpiece.
“Let's do it.” I say more to myself than to them.