2. Lilian
Chapter 2
Lilian
This is it. My wedding. My palms grow clammy around the railing of the balcony overlooking the reception hall.
This should be a beautiful day, but it’s the worst I could imagine.
The chandeliers glint coldly overhead, illuminating the extravagant floral arrangements on every table below.
I wipe my sweaty hands on my dress, eyes darting through the guests. Come on. They have to be here somewhere. They wouldn’t miss my wedding day… would they?
Please.
“Signorina Edmunds, what are you doing up here?” The wedding planner, Ricarda, hurries over, her perfectly manicured nails digging into my arm. “It’s bad luck for the groom to see you before the ceremony.”
Perhaps bad luck is exactly what I need.
She hustles me down the winding staircase, and I crane my neck for one last glimpse of the crowded reception hall before she shoves me into the bridal suite.
“Your uncle would be furious if he knew you were wandering about.” She sits me down. “No more disappearing, understand? ”
“Yes.”
The makeup artist appears by my side with a brush and chatters, caking layer after layer of products on my face until I’m more like a porcelain doll than myself.
Who is she? Surely not me—the real me has dark shadows under her eyes, chapped lips, and a pale face.
I fidget with the embroidery on my gown, the corset cinching my waist tight. The makeup artist layers on more powder, and I resist the urge to claw at my face. This isn’t like the magical experience girls dream about their whole lives. Is it?
It’s suffocating.
“You look beautiful, dear,” the makeup artist says. “Your groom is a lucky man.”
“Yes.” At least one of us is. “So lucky.”
Ever since this became real, Jason and I can barely hold a real conversation. I tried. I tried to love him, but it didn’t work. And now I’m stuck, all to make my uncle happy. I mean, maybe my uncle is right, and Jason will make me happy one day, will make me love him one day, and will make me forget the man I still love.
How can I miss someone so much who used and then broke me in the worst possible way?
Uncle Marc was right about him. So, Uncle Marc has to be right about Jason.
It just… needs more time.
I can barely breathe. Is this how Elizabeth would feel on her wedding day? Trapped in a marriage she doesn’t want?
In those historical novels, there’s always a dramatic moment during the ceremony where the dashing hero bursts in and declares his love, saving the heroine from a loveless union. The priest would ask if anyone objects, and he’d stride forward, eyes smoldering with passion…
A pang goes through me, imagining Sebastian throwing open those chapel doors. He’d look devastating in a tailored suit, his blonde hair tousled, green eyes blazing and finding mine. “I object,” he’d say in that deep, commanding voice. “I’m in love with the bride.”
My pulse quickens at the mere fantasy. Fan-fucking-tastic. I’m such a fool.
This isn’t one of my novels. Sebastian isn’t a hero—he’s the villain who shattered my heart and left me to pick up the pieces.
He’s not going to burst in and save me. No one is. This is real life, not some romantic fairy tale. I’m marrying Jason, and that’s that.
And that’s that…
The makeup artist dusts a final layer of powder on my nose, oblivious to my inner turmoil. “There. You look perfect, honey. Like a princess.”
I want to laugh. Or cry. Or maybe both. “Thank you.”
I’m going to walk down that aisle, say my vows, and start my new life.
No more looking back. No more what-ifs and if-onlys. This is my reality now.
My gaze darts back to the open window, the sunlight and laughter from outside taunting me. If only I could get outside, breathe the fresh air, see my real friends, see… him.
I know I shouldn’t, but some masochistic part of me wants it. Hopes he—
The door creaks open, and Anne peeks her head in, her perfectly coiffed hair not moving an inch.
The first time I met her was at Gemma’s Halloween party years back. She was dressed as Audrey Hepburn, looking like she’d stepped right out of Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Elegant, poised, perfect, and chatting up Sebastian, of course. I remember the jealousy that clawed at my insides. Now she’s my sister-in-law. Funny how life works out sometimes.
Anne’s eyes scan the room before entering. “Ricarda, would you mind giving us a moment alone?”
Ricarda’s nostrils flare. “Signora Edmunds, we’re on a very tight schedule. There’s still so much to—”
“Please.” Anne’s voice is polite yet firm. “Just a few minutes.”
Ricarda purses her lips but nods curtly before stomping out, taking the make-up artist with her.
Anne glides over, the picture of elegance. “Hey.” Her gray eyes search mine, and I feel exposed, like she can see right through the layers of makeup to the real me underneath. The terrified girl who wants to run.
I avert my gaze. “Shouldn’t you be with the other bridesmaids?”
“I wanted to check on you first. How are you feeling?”
“Fine. Just… nervous.”
“Of course. It’s a big day.” She studies me, and I shift under her scrutiny. “You know, if there’s anything you want to talk about…”
I shake my head quickly. Too quickly. “No, no. I’m fine, really.”
“Lil.”
My throat tightens. I can’t break. Not now. “What? I said I’m fine.”
“Mhm. Really? Because you look like you’re about to face a firing squad, not walk down the aisle.”
A choked laugh escapes me. “Is there a difference?”
“You know you don’t have to do this, right? If you’re having second thoughts…”
Is she giving me permission to call this off? “I… I don’t know. Everyone expects this, and the guests. Ricarda, they’re all here.” I fidget with my engagement ring, the diamond weighing heavy on my finger. “It’s no t that simple.” The venue has been booked for months. The food, the flowers… everything is prepared and waiting.
How can I possibly stop this now?
“What do you want?” Anne places a hand on my knee, her touch gentle. “This is your life. Your future.”
I blink back tears, not wanting to ruin the makeup artist’s hard work. “I want…” Sebastian. I want him to whisk me away from here and run away together like we joked about. “I want to marry Jason.”
She sighs. “You have options. No matter what anyone else says or thinks.”
Options. Right. Like running away from my own wedding is an option. Like breaking my uncle’s heart after everything he’s done for me is an option.
I squeeze her hand on my knee. “Thank you. But I’m fine.”
“It’s never too late to—”
Ricarda, trailed by the makeup artist, bursts in once more. “The bride needs to get ready now.”
“You deserve to be happy.” Anne pulls me into a hug. “It’s your decision.”
“Hurry, let’s fix you up.” Ricarda moves me to the full-length mirror.
The girl in the reflection stares back, and I don’t recognize her at all. The intricate lace bodice clings to my torso, and the full tulle skirt cascades around me like a silken waterfall. My dark hair is swept up, accented by tiny pearls. The makeup artist has done her work flawlessly. My cheeks are flushed, and my eyes are smoky. I look every bit the radiant bride, but the image doesn’t bring me any joy.
I force my happy face because that’s what I do best.
“Bellissima. You look beautiful,” Ricarda arranges my veil and gives me a bouquet .
White roses mixed with baby’s breath—simple, elegant, exactly as I’d envisioned. But now the flowers are heavy weights pulling me down.
The thought of walking down that aisle, of binding myself to Jason, fills me with an unspeakable dread.
I grip the bouquet harder, the rough stems digging into my skin as I fight back the sting of tears.
The alternative is disappointing everyone. And the one I want is gone.
The one person who isn’t here, the one person I wish could make everything right again.
Sebastian.
Just thinking his name makes my chest ache.
Maybe it’s not too late.