Chapter 18
NOAH
Soul-deep regret launches into me with the force of a cannonball as my eyes lower.
I can’t bear to look in the mirror at my reflection, but I feel beautiful.
The tears that’d fallen upon receipt of the package Grandma Jo had sent resurface.
She bought me the dress. Disbelief quickens my pulse.
It’s everything the old me ever dreamed of, but why torture myself?
It’s not like I can wear it to marry Bradley, nor do I want to.
This belongs to a past left behind. Trying it on, there’s only one man I can envision walking down the aisle toward. And it’s not my future husband.
I’m supposed to be meeting Sage and my mother at the hotel any minute now.
The bridal party has a suite reserved for preparations for this evening’s ceremony.
Touching the chiffon again, my heart cries, it’s like a soft, floating cloud under my fingertips, the garment hugging me in all the right places.
This beauty has been hanging at the back of my closet for a week now, silently beckoning.
So pretty. So perfect. And dammit, there’d been something deep inside my soul that desperately wanted—wants—to be that version of myself again.
This dress was chosen by someone who loves me.
In comparison, the gown I will wear today when I exchange vows with my dick of a fiancé was selected by his overpaid assistant.
It’s too confining. Too stiff. Too formal. Too much of everything I’m not.
In my mind, I recite the note Jo had included with the shipment.
Noah,
This is the dress I hope you’ll wear on the happiest day of your life. It’s the only one that made your eyes mist and your heart sing. It’s the only one for my girl.
All my love,
Grandma Jo
My lips press together, staving off the sting that greets my eyes. Noah, just get it over with. Take it off. Put it back on the hanger. And don’t look at it ever again.
A huff climbs from my chest. Funny, something similar crossed my mind when I wrenched my gaze from Rhett nearly two weeks ago.
Don’t look at him. Never again. And then, my heart was left behind in a cloud of dust. The closure I sought hadn’t helped one bit.
Instead, a soul-deep ache has plagued me, every breath filling my lungs with agony.
Like him, it’s time to let go. Reaching for the clasp in the back, my lips tremble.
The door to my lavish bathroom bangs open, and I catch sight of Bradley’s temper-reddened face.
“What in the fuck are you wearing?” He has all the appearance of a raging bull instead of the man who is supposed to be waiting for me at the end of the aisle with love shining from his eyes.
“That wasn’t among the dresses we selected for you.
It’s completely unsuitable for my bride.
Take it off. Now.” His hand darts out, grabbing the strap and yanking.
“Stop!” The ripping sound of the delicate fabric fills the room.
Gasping, I jerk away, unable to disguise the angry grunt that escapes me.
“You fucking asshole.” Like I’d wear this gorgeous dress to marry him.
My eyes narrow as I take a few steps away.
“Is that how you treat your future wife? Damn, Bradley. You’re such a gentleman.
We’re getting married today for fuck’s sake. ”
Ugly laughter punctuates his menacing stare. “Your mouth is out of control today. Can’t wait to put a fucking stop to that.”
Hands shaking—but whether it’s from anger or fear, who knows—I pause, studying the way he’s pulverizing his molars. Why am I willfully antagonizing him?
Bradley’s eyes cut to mine, a vicious glint in them. “You’ll be legally bound to me as of today.” His upper lip curls. “And you’d do well to remember who you’re marrying. Now get that fucking thing off before I tear it to shreds.”
Releasing a huffed breath, regret washes over me. “As if I could fucking forget. You’re just one more mistake added to a very long list.”
He slowly advances, and my heart rate increases to an impressive gallop.
There’s only one reason I’ve dared say what’s really on my mind.
The wedding is imminent. There’s no way he’d be stupid enough to lay his hands on me in retaliation.
I bite down on my lip. “Careful, Bradley,” I murmur, my mouth twisting with a sardonic smile.
“You hit me now, there will be no hiding it from our guests. Wouldn’t want to let on what a sorry excuse for a man you are, not to mention that you’re an abusive prick. ”
He jabs a finger in my direction. “You’ll regret that. Now, get your ass to the limo downstairs. Your mother and that country hick friend of yours are waiting for you at the hotel.”
“There she is!” Sage comes flying at me the second I push open the door to the suite, face flushed and excited. I hardly have time to deposit the wedding gown in its bag on the rack beside the door before she wraps me up in a tangle of long limbs, continuing to squeal. “You’re getting married!”
“Yep,” I force a brightness into my voice that isn’t actually there. “It’s the big day. Where’s my mom?” My eyes flick around the impressively large suite.
Sage tips her head toward the bathroom. “She’ll be just a second.” My friend leans close. “She was already crying earlier, and she went in there to wipe her tears.”
“Oh man.”
“It’s not every day your daughter gets married, you know?”
It’s not every day her daughter binds herself to an abusive bastard, either. “Okay, what’s first?”
“Well”—she walks over to the rack and returns with a white robe—“we’re gonna get you into this and relax for a few minutes.”
It’s not long before Sage has me bundled into white silk with the word bride embroidered in script along the lapel.
“Oh my goodness, sweetheart.” My mother rushes out of the bathroom, hands up to her mouth as she drinks me in.
Tears refill her eyes as she tugs me into a fierce hug.
“Oh, your daddy and I are so excited for you!”
“Thanks, Mama,” I whisper softly as I ease back.
“Mimosa?” Sage chimes with an inquisitive brow as she grabs a bottle of champagne from an ice bucket without waiting for an answer.
I stamp a smile across my lips. It’s showtime.
Pop! The cork flies from the bottle, and as the three of us laugh, Sage tops off the orange juice in the champagne flutes with bubbly.
After a long, long swallow, I hold out the glass for a refill. Unfortunately, I’ll need it. My nerves are stripped raw after going toe to toe with Bradley.
A knock sounds on the door, and a moment later, a flurry of people enter. Several makeup artists and hairdressers bustle around, setting up stations to get us ready. My eyes widen. I had hoped for some quiet time alone with Mom and Sage, but apparently that’s not going to happen. “Wow.”
“Oh, darlin’,” my mother sighs, “Bradley told me he was sending some people to help us out.” She clenches her teeth. “He said it was a surprise. Should I have told you?”
“No, no. It’s fine.” Caught off guard by the sound of another knock on the door, a lady with a small gift box in her hand cautiously enters. When she spots me, a big grin lights her face, and then she makes a beeline. “This is for you from Bradley.”
“Thank you.” Mixed feelings swirl around in my gut. Snapping out of my daze, she saunters away as chaos unfolds in the room. Overwhelmed, I draw in a breath. “Let’s do this.”
“I think we need to see what lover boy sent you before anything else.” Sage points a finger at the box that rests on the glass-topped coffee table—one that reminds me of the shattered one in our penthouse. Bradley had gotten rid of the evidence of his abuse before I’d had time to blink.
“I’ll open it later.”
Sage picks it up. “Absolutely not.” Her words don’t mirror her tone. Knowing her as well as I do, this is a test. I can’t tell if she’s hoping I’ll fail. “It can be your something new.” Yeah, and the bruises he’d gifted me can be my something old and something blue.
Pushing that intrusive thought aside, my hand trembles.
“Okay, fine. Let’s see what this is.” With my teeth sinking into my lip, I accept the gift from Sage and pull the end of the ribbon to loosen it.
It’s clearly some sort of jewelry. As I pluck the lid off, Sage and my mother peek over my shoulder.
It’s too glittery, too eye-catching, too scene-stealing.
And once again, it’s definitely not my style.
But I’m going to have to wear it. Internally, I cringe.
My eyes drift to the dress on the rack that the hairstylists are currently cooing over and then back to the bold, diamond-encrusted statement piece in my hand.
At least it will go perfectly with my ostentatious gown.
I do my best to mask my true thoughts, nodding when my mother offers to fasten the necklace into place.
A choker. There’s never been a more appropriate name for a piece of jewelry that will literally feel like it’s trying to rob me of my last damn breath. It’s no better than a collar. I’m sure that was Bradley’s intent.
What follows is a whirlwind of makeup artists buzzing around the three of us while stylists coax our hair into beautiful arrangements. Mine is a low bun at the back of my head, softly curling tendrils framing my face. With my hair and makeup done, I hardly recognize myself.
I startle when Sage appears at my side, lost in the torment of all my thoughts. “Shit, did I scare you?”
I exhale. “No. Just thinking.”
She nods, her eyes moving over every one of my features. “It’s time to put the dress on.”
Shit, shit, shit. I draw in a ragged breath.
“Noah?” Sage takes a step to the side, then gently touches my arm, turning me to face her. I stare into her concerned blue eyes, my whole world crashing in on me. She draws me close, touching her forehead to mine. “What’s wrong?”
My heart gallops like a horse seeing its chance at escape, thundering under my rib cage. I swallow hard, shaking my head. “Don’t,” I whisper, the word barely audible.
Pearly white teeth clenched together, she eases back. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I do.”
“Because”—her voice hitches, blinking rapidly as we lock eyes—“if you don’t want to marry Bradley …”
“Sage, please don’t finish that thought. I’m begging you.”
“Noah—” Her voice cracks.
“Trust me.” There’s hesitation in her features, but she nods. Squeezing my eyes shut, I let her help me into the gown and do up the buttons until I’m the perfect picture of the woman Bradley wants walking down the aisle to him.
I swallow hard. In a year, it’ll all be over. And my life will be mine again. I can do this.