Bronagh
I stood in front of the full-length mirror and stared at myself. A somewhat familiar woman stared back at me. She had my hair, eyes, and nose, but the rest seemed to belong to someone else.
I was used to fashion and how different clothing, makeup, and hairstyles can change a person.
That was how I made my living: by making people look a certain way and feel good about themselves.
That, in my book, was all fashion, hairstyling, makeup artistry, and jewelry were all about.
And no matter your financial class, everyone deserves to feel pretty and good about themselves.
That belief was why I had more than just a super-luxury brand.
I had three, and they catered to the uber-rich, the middle class, and people with non-middle-class incomes.
I used the exorbitant prices the upper elite paid, without batting an eyelash, to fund and keep the other two levels reasonable and attainable.
What no one knew was that all three lines belonged to me.
Despite knowing all this, I could hardly believe it was me staring back. The wedding dress the girls, as the family called them, had chosen was utterly breathtaking. It was what I would’ve picked for myself.
It was a classic mermaid design. The ivory satin underslip was covered in stretch lace adorned with elegant roses.
It had a low V-neckline and an open back.
Thin stretchy spaghetti straps held up the dress.
The bust had built-in cups. The train was a regular finger-loop design that flowed out onto the floor behind me in a circle.
Mermaid dresses were usually hard to move in, but the fabric allowed me to move easily.
Ivory pearlescent thread accented the dress.
It hugged where it should: all my curves and flared where I needed it: below my knees.
Ruching at the bottom accentuated my curves even more.
The neckline and hem finished in eyelash lace trim.
However, that wasn’t all. My long hair had been curled, and only the sides pulled back and decorated with ivory roses.
Attached to my hair was a cathedral veil of ivory tulle, its edges decorated with an intricate floral design that also featured the dress’s pearlescent thread.
The hem was curved. It was gathered lightly at the comb that stuck into my gathered hair.
I was surprised by something else. Somehow, Dad managed to get my mom’s wedding jewelry sent to the commune.
It was a two-vine necklace, earrings, and bracelet set in platinum, set with white diamonds.
Some diamonds formed a double vine, while others were oriented to resemble leaves.
I remembered telling Dad when I was little that I would wear them to my wedding one day.
He hadn’t forgotten. I thought they were just wishful thinking after the way this wedding had come about.
My makeup had been done in a way that made me look and feel ethereal. Siobhan did it while Cara did my hair. My shoes were strappy ivory three-inch heels studded with crystals.
The O'Sheeran men and the guards transformed the center of the garden yesterday. They hung and wrapped white lights, set up white folding chairs, rolled out a white aisle, and wrapped ivory tulle around the chairs and anything else they were instructed to wrap.
The women: Maeve, Cyndi, Brenda, Seerie, Agatha, and Cara, who was a professional chef and ran the family’s high-end steak and seafood restaurants, Kelly’s, not only prepared the reception food, but also the wedding cake.
I hadn’t seen the cake yet. Cathal and I were told we’d see it at the reception.
While we couldn’t invite outside guests, and to be truthful, there weren’t many I’d ask anyway, there would be no lack of attendees when you included the entire commune’s inhabitants and employees. Cathal and I insisted that they be able to enjoy the reception.
Last night, I’d been stunned to discover that Cormac had worked over the past few weeks to become an officiant who could marry someone.
He would do the honors for us. My dad would walk me down the aisle.
On Cathal’s side, his three brothers: Aidan, Tiernan, and Shane would be his best men.
On mine were Aisling, Karizma, and Kynedi.
It was the only way to keep things orderly.
If we had time, we would’ve included all of them, but someone from the family had to be in the audience.
A knock at the door made me jump.
“It’s unlocked,” I called out.
The door opened, and in walked Dad. He froze when he saw me. As he scanned me from head to toe, I watched his eyes fill with tears. He came over to me.
“I can’t believe how much you remind me of your mother.
You look stunning, Bronagh. And your mom’s jewelry is perfect with your dress and veil.
I wish my Riona were here to see you. Wow, I don’t know how they did it in just under a month, but they did.
Wait until you see the garden. And I snuck a peek at the cake.
Incredible. Can I kiss you on the cheek and hug you, or will I muss you up? ”
“You can do whatever you want, and I don’t care what it musses up, Daidí,” I told him, sniffing to keep from crying and really messing up my makeup. He gently hugged me and placed kisses on each cheek before he stepped back.
“Bronagh, I need to say something, and I want you to let me get it all out before you respond. Can you do that?” Dad asked. I nodded.
“I know this isn’t what you dreamed of when it comes to your wedding.
I’m sorry. I wanted to give you that. To have you walk down the aisle to a man whom you love and who loves you.
To make it the start of your happiest life.
I wanted you to find a love like the one your mother and I had.
We were soulmates. I need you to remember, if this marriage becomes something you no longer want, come to me.
I will find a way to get you free. I don’t want you to sacrifice your happiness forever to save anyone. ”
His expression was so somber. I had to ease his fears.
“Daidí, now I need you to hear me without interrupting. I’m in the dress of my dreams. I have you here to walk me down the aisle.
I saw what the garden was shaping up to be, so I know it’s incredible.
And the reception with the cake can only be amazing.
As for starting the happiest part of my life and marrying someone who loves me the way I love him, being soulmates, I am.
“I know it doesn’t seem possible, but I love Cathal, and he loves me.
We’re soulmates even though we’ve had some bumps along the way.
It’s been light-speed fast, and my doubts that it could happen that quickly made me afraid.
But no more. We have the rest of our lives to get to know each other, just as every married couple is in the same boat, no matter how long they’ve known each other.
I’m marrying the man I love. Be happy for me. ”
We had to wait five minutes before texting that we were ready. The reason was that we both cried, and I had to do it in a way that didn’t screw up my makeup. Thankfully, Siobhan had used waterproof makeup where she could.
I’d gotten ready at the main house, so it wasn’t a horribly long trek to the garden. When we hit the French doors that led outside to the pool, I found a faux wall of ivory fabric panels between the pool and the garden, so no one would see me until I passed through them.
Dad made sure I stayed on my feet. Johann Pachelbel’s Canon in D, a lovely, peaceful, flowing melody, was playing.
I had no clue where it came from, but it was serene.
I carried a bouquet of ivory roses, baby’s breath, more purple-dyed roses to match my engagement ring, and lavender Calla lilies, with the stems wrapped in pearlescent ribbon.
We paused. Dad smiled at me, squeezed my hand, and then parted the panels.
As I stepped through, I noticed that others were ahead of us, most seated, but the only person I saw was Cathal.
He stood at the end of the aisle facing me.
I saw his eyes widen, and a look of awe, love, and desire overcame him.
He took a step toward me, but was stopped by Aidan’s hand on his arm. There were faint chuckles.
Khloe walked ahead of us. She was Aidan and Karizma’s eight-year-old daughter, acting as our flower girl. Cassius, Tiernan and Kynedi’s nine-year-old son, was our ring bearer. Both were from their moms’ prior relationships, but no one ever treated them as if they weren’t blood-born O’Sheerans.
I thought I’d never make it to Cathal. When Dad handed me over to him, Cathal thanked him profusely, then told me, loud enough that most people heard him, “You are the most beautiful woman in the world, Bronagh. You leave me breathless.” His voice was hoarse as he said it.
“You’re the one leaving me breathless. You look so unbelievably handsome, Cathal,” I replied.
I meant it, too. He wore a traditional, elegant, tailor-fit, three-piece black tuxedo.
The jacket and vest were worn over a crisp white shirt.
The single-breasted, one-button jacket featured a shawl collar, a white pocket embellishment, and straight-piped pockets.
His hair was perfectly styled. His blue eyes glowed.
“Better hurry before they jump straight to the kissing,” Rory called out, causing laughter and his mom, Maeve, to tell him to hush, even though her tone was amused. I smiled, and so did Cathal.
“If you’ll turn toward me, we’ll start,” Cormac said smoothly.
From there, we listened to Cormac instruct us, and we repeated what he said. We’d decided that traditional vows were what we wanted, with one change. We kept the “obey” part for me, but we added it to the vows Cathal had to say to me. That caused another amusing stir. Cathal winked at me.
The wedding ring he slid onto my finger, which he took from Cassius, was a palladium band of cutout Celtic knots, with two diamond-encrusted trims around the entire ring.
It was a wide band. Cathal had kept the set secret.
I’d placed my engagement ring on my right hand before the walk with Dad.
That let Cathal slip my wedding band on, then switch my engagement ring back afterward. They were perfect together.
When I presented his wedding band, another surprise for me, the fact that he wanted to wear one, though I shouldn’t have been. All the married men in his family wore them. It was an exact match to my band, only bigger. Once they were in place, Cormac finished up, and then it was time to kiss.
Cathal wrapped me tight and close, then ravished my mouth, with me kissing him back just as eagerly. He bent me over his arm. The shouts, hoots, whistles, and laughter were slightly deafening. He eventually righted me and reluctantly parted our mouths.
“Hello, Mrs. Bronagh Sorcha O’Sheeran. I love you, wife.”
“Hello to you too, Mr. Cathal. Wait, what is your middle name?” I asked.
He grinned. “It’s Blain.”
I started over, “Hello, Mr. Cathal Blain O’Sheeran. I love you, too, husband.”
We turned to face the crowd and then walked back up the aisle to their clapping and cheers.
We had been told we’d have about an hour to take pictures with Siobhan.
I’d been told not only that she managed the family’s art galleries, Modern Muse, but also that she was an artist herself and took wonderful photos.
The family seemed to have no lack of talent, and most outsiders had no idea.
Time flew by as we posed together and with various family members.
The whole compound was filled with joy and laughter.