3. Nadia
Chapter 3
Nadia
With a deep breath, I take the first of the three wedding dresses, running the soft silk between my fingers as the hairstylist finishes my hair. She meticulously styled it into soft waves to match the romantic but beachy vibe of this gown.
Minutes later, I slip into the dress. The smooth silk chiffon embraces my body, highlighting every contour with its lace detailing.
Doubt creeps in as my nerves become increasingly frayed, questioning the wisdom of dressing a bride and having the only man I ever loved, Oscar, as my groom.
I’m grateful he delivered on his promise and ten hockey players are currently getting ready in the dressing room on the opposite side of the runway. I told the designer the deal was on with the hockey players, but I have to walk with Oscar.
That was Oscar’s ultimatum when he called and confirmed.
As I stand in front of the mirror, I give myself a quick once-over. The familiar flares of self-consciousness overshadow my belief in myself.
As a model, I’m expected to exude perfection and ooze confidence, but for me, it’s a constant battle. I’m normally good at hiding it, but still wish I was like my peers. Most models don’t have anxiety, at least not at the same level as me.
“Are you ready?” The organizer stands at the doorway with a clipboard in his hand.
There’s a rumble of ‘yeahs’ behind me. I press my feet into the silk high-heeled pumps. Only now noticing the delicate pearls on the heels.
“Nadia followed by Stella, then Sophie…” the organizer says as I grab the bottom of the gown and stride to him as he opens the door backstage.
As I rush to the end of the runway, my mouth drops in awe when I catch sight of Oscar, looking dapper in a sleek black tuxedo. We’re the perfect picture of contrast and harmony. His black tuxedo-clad form is the perfect complement to my ivory ethereal gown.
“You look…” For the first time, he looks and sounds nervous. “Fuck!” He scrubs his hand over his jaw. “I never expected that the first time I saw you in years was for you to be wearing a wedding dress.”
What is he saying?
I’m so used to wearing different garments, wedding dresses, lingerie, swimwear … that until a moment ago, I didn’t think about the garment as anything other than fabric I’m showcasing.
“And you look amazing in your tux,” I say. “I’ve only seen you these past few years in hockey gear.”
“You’ve looked me up?” he asks. A grin forming on his gorgeous face.
“Who’s been stalking who?” I arch my brow and match his smile with one of my own. “After all, it’s normally after I see your name popping up on my socials.”
“Guilty.” He grins, holding his palm in the air.
Soft music plays in the background, but it seems to fade away as he reaches out his hand for mine.
I take a step forward, my eyes locked with Oscar’s. He swallows, and I suddenly feel the weight of my gown swirling around me like a cloud.
Everything feels surreal.
And when I take his hand, electricity zips through my body, landing in my lower belly, I swallow, trying to compose myself.
You’re just friends, Nadia.
“Hello Oscar, thank you for this, and may I say...” My eyes looking around his face, which has turned more chiseled over the years. “You scrub up nicely.”
He laughs. “Hello Nadia, can we start again?” His dark hair and blue eyes are on me as he flashes a mischievous grin. “And you never needed to scrub up. You were always the most beautiful person in the room.”
I smile. My heart skips a beat as I feel his gaze linger on me, sending a rush of warmth through my veins.
But the moment we were sharing suddenly disappears when the curtain opens and the music for the show starts.
The moment the lights dim, the crowd falls into a complete and utter silence.
All eyes are fixed on us, creating a palpable tension in the air as we stand together, ready to make our entrance. He squeezes my hand like he knows I’m nervous. I’m not nervous about walking—not this time.
This time I’m nervous because of how he is affecting me. Nervous because his touch is sending shivers down my spine. The way he always did.
Our prompt to walk comes, and together, we begin our slow walk down the runway, the soft chiffon of my gown floating around me.
As we walk, the eyes of the audience and fashionistas are drawn to us, captivated by the elegance of the wedding dress and Oscar’s impeccably tailored tuxedo.
We walk down the runway, our steps perfectly synchronized, as if we’ve been practicing for this moment our whole lives.
As we reach the end of the runway, the crowd erupts into applause and cheers. A feeling of joy bubbles inside me, causing a smile to form on my lips.
I turn toward Oscar. His blue irises have darkened, causing nervous flutters in my stomach. We turn to the walk back down the runway as Stella and Reynolds wait at the end for their turn.
“See you soon.” I say as we reach the back of the stage.
Oscar rushes to my side. “I’ll wait here.”
My eyes widen as I stare at him. I notice his hand, tense and unmoving, as it hovers over the handle, creating a barrier between me and the door.
“You need to change.”
He shakes his head. “I’m wearing the same tuxedo.”
“I need to change into the next dress.”
A mischievous glint flickers in his eyes as he playfully teases. “So, are you trying to choose which one of these stunning gowns you want to marry me in?” He casually shrugs one shoulder. “You know you can’t resist me forever. That’s why you’re stalking me.”
Laughter burst out of me uncontrollably, the sound echoing off the walls. “Well, that all depends on whether it’s a grand church ceremony or a casual beach affair,” I reply with a straight face.
“Whatever your heart desires,” he says. His eyes are serious and focused.
I release a soft laugh this time. “Come on, you know your mother would never approve of anything other than a traditional church wedding. Your family would probably disown you if you even suggested something different.”
“I’d let them if it meant I never hurt you ever again.”
“Oscar…”
His eyes burn into mine, our gazes locked in a tense standoff. The only sound in the room is the soft rustling of fabric as we both shift uncomfortably. I can’t tell if this tension between us is real or just a result of us dressing up for this charity event in wedding attire.
“We need to talk,” he says as the door opens and Neil the organizer yells my name and gives me a disapproving stare.
“You’re back on in two minutes. Get out of that dress,” he continues. With a quick glance at me and Oscar, his eyes narrow, revealing his suspicion.
Embarrassment floods my face, leaving my cheeks burning with heat.
“Please—” Oscar’s voice is a low rumble as he glares at Neil.
“I’m doing my job, just like she should be.”
“She is doing this for free … for charity. You should be fucking grateful, not talking to her like she is worthless. Now say fucking please to her.”
“It’s okay Oscar.”
“It’s not, Nadia. Nobody gets to talk to you like you are trash,” he grunts. Little does he know, this job is just like the rest of the jobs I’ve had.
“Say please, or I get the rest of my team to leave this fucking building now. She is worth hundreds of you.”
I swallow.
With a creak, the door opens, revealing a girl with vibrant red hair, gracefully stepping out in a flowing wedding gown. Neil’s expression shifts to discomfort as he quickly realizes the need for me to make a change.
Oscar turns around and holds his finger in the air to his teammate. “Hold on.”
“What are you doing?” Neil groans.
“You only had to say please and for some reason, you find it fucking difficult.”
“What’s happening?” his teammate asks.
“Just hold on Connor. This piece of shit thinks he can talk to these girls like…”
“Just ask her nicely,” his teammate, Connor, growls. “He gets ugly when he’s upset.”
Neil swallows, the gulp audible. “Sorry. Nadia, will you please change into your next outfit?” His voice, weary and defeated.
“Of course Neil.”
“That wasn’t so fucking hard, was it?”
Neil groans as he turns back to the dressing room. I follow and when I get inside, he hisses, “He’ll be the death of your career.”
“He’s a friend,” I reply as I shrug the dress down my body. “I haven’t seen him for five years, so I doubt that should be the problem, unless, of course, you’re the one threatening me.”
He walks away, his words barely audible as he mutters under his breath.
I know I should be annoyed with Oscar, but honestly, this modeling world is cutthroat and it’s the first time someone has ever stood up for me, because, in truth, I’m too scared to do it myself.
With my hair and make-up flawlessly retouched, I casually make my way to the waiting area. I glance through the window and steal a glimpse at Oscar, but find him watching me intently by the door.
At the sound of Neil calling my name, I quickly move toward Oscar, entwining my fingers with his.
“Sorry,” he whispers. “I can’t stand anyone talking to you like that.”
“You did once,” I reply as we take our places at the end of the runway.
“And I’ve regretted it every day since,” he murmurs.
I turn to him and consider him for a moment, before I admit. “Me too.”