Chapter 13 – Stevie
One week later…
“You’re so beautiful,” Jovie crooned as she finished braiding a piece of my long, blonde curls and fastened it at the bottom with a clear hair tie.
She’d insisted on styling my hair for this fake wedding. My curls had been blown out then curled with a larger barrel iron to create loose wavy curtains of hair that framed my face gently. She’d then gone back through and braided tiny bits around my face to frame it giving me a bohemian-bride style that went along with the white dress she’d picked out from a thrift store in town earlier this week.
The dress was low cut, form fitted and way too short for the two extra inches of height that I had on Jovie, but it effectively modeled our arranged marriage. The dress didn’t fit with my tits pushed up and ass almost spilling out of it exactly in the way that Wylie and I didn't fit together.
“Oh, wow, Stevie you look amazing,” my mom said as she entered one of the guestrooms that we'd been using as a makeshift bridal suite on Cameron ranch.
My mom and Rig had flown back from Canada, where they’d been visiting, just for the wedding before continuing their spontaneous love trip around the world. They'd said that it was important to witness Wylie and my fake marriage.
I had insisted they stay away and had firmly told Jovie to keep the ceremony simple, just enough decorations and procession for a few photos. But when her big green eyes welled with tears because she wanted this 'first marriage' to be special for me, I couldn't refuse all of the extra things she added. I'd do anything for my little sister.
Anything .
I hoped that all of the effort Jovie had put into decorating the lawn of Cameron ranch with glowing lanterns, delicate flower petals, the fancy kind of fold up chairs and a tiny awning with vines wrapped around it where Wylie and I would marry would pay off in the form of some legitimate-looking photos for social media, the newspaper, and hell anywhere else I could possibly blast the wedding so that it’d somehow make it back to Houston and Charles.
"Wylie won't know what hit him," my mom whispered in my ear as she brushed a piece of my wild hair from my shoulder.
“You do know this is a fake wedding, right mom?” I asked as Jovie finished up my makeup, brushing gold eyeshadow on my lids and a few swipes of dark black mascara.
“Oh, honey, of course,” my mom said in a voice that definitely didn’t make me feel reassured that she knew any of this was fake.
I stepped back from the mirror before spinning around, allowing the tiny frills at the bottom of the short dress to fly out in all directions and then clicked the heels of my cowgirl boots that Jovie had let me borrow together like I was Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz about to meet my demise on the yellow brick road.
“How do I look?” I gestured dramatically.
My mom and sister hugged each other teary eyed as they gazed at me like I was the most beautiful thing they'd ever seen. Of course, one was pregnant with my twin nephews and probably the most hormonal person in all of Texas at the moment, and the other was my mom who’d just reconnected with her childhood sweetheart and was likely high on long lost love, second chances and sex with Rig Cameron - gross.
Despite that, their adoration reinforced my confidence in what I was doing.
At least the photos from my first wedding will be nice. I wonder how hard it would be to photoshop Wylie out of the frame…
Jovie dabbed at her eyes before they lit up again. “You need a cowgirl hat to finish this perfection off.”
I inwardly groaned at the thought. In no real marriage would I be caught getting married in a hat, but this was technically all an act, and nothing really mattered. I was an actress and my stage happened to be the Cameron ranch backyard and my role was the dutiful wife to a handsome and proud 34-year-old cowboy. I was already wearing the costume of my fake love and devotion, might as well finish it off with a hat solidifying my assimilation into ranch life.
“I have the perfect one in mind.” I responded, remembering one that I'd seen in the back of Wylie's closet when I visited last but hadn't taken out of fear of being caught. It was too pristine, almost too perfect and was exactly the touch I needed for my wedding day.
Jovie grinned as if she could read my mind. I told her exactly which hat I wanted from Wylie’s room, and she snuck off to retrieve it while I waited with my mom. She chattered excitedly about her and Rig’s adventures in Canada and their upcoming plans to visit Italy before returning for Nash and Jovie’s wedding. I tried to focus on her happiness, the way her eyes crinkled at the edges as she spoke of Rig and how her skin glowed since falling in love again but all I could think about was what was about to happen.
A few minutes later, Jovie returned with the widest grin and the prettiest, all cream-colored cowgirl hat that I’d ever seen. It had a thin, dark, navy-blue ribbon around the bucket and a matching navy-blue and green feather tucked in to the side.
“Wow. Now that's a beautiful hat,” my mom said as her eyes shifted to what was clutched in Jovie’s hands.
Jovie stepped over, tousled my long, golden hair, and gently placed the hat on my head. It fit perfectly, just as I knew it would from trying it five months ago. I had been tempted to take it then, captivated by its striking beauty and untouched nature. The way the fabric felt like buttery velvet under my fingertips and the softness of the feather. There was no way Wylie—or anyone else—had worn it recently, if at all.
One of the first rules of taking things you're not supposed to is never taking the prized pig. You go for something good, not great. No one misses the good thing, but take the great thing, and someone will surely notice it's gone. However, my wedding to Wylie felt like the perfect opportunity to break that rule and take one great thing. Plus, the feather and ribbon were my something blue.
“Perfect.” Jovie clapped her hands together and jumped up and down excitedly as we heard a knock on the door followed by Nash's voice telling us it was time to start the ceremony.
“Why do I feel like I’m on death row and walking to the electric chair?”
Jovie giggled, "I love you, Stevie, and I'm so proud of you. I still don't understand why you're doing this for Wylie, but if it's truly out of the kindness of your heart to help him, you're incredible. Though, I've always known that." She kissed my cheek, and I forced a smile, watching her, and my mom depart down the hallway outside.
I wasn't doing this for Wylie, because he wasn't my family. I was doing this for my family. And just like Wylie would, I'd do anything for family.
That was how I knew that despite this wedding being destined for a divorce in twelve months, this was going to work because at the end of the day, no matter how much we couldn’t stand each other, we’d always focus on what this was: A marriage of convenience to get something we both wanted for our families.