6. Margot
Chapter 6
Margot
S tanding in the middle of the changing room, I barely recognize the woman staring back at me. She’s a stranger dressed in white, suffocating in layers of tulle and lies.
My chest tightens, and for a fleeting moment, I wonder if I could survive in prison. If I set this place on fire and got caught, could I make it? Would I even be sent to prison for a first offense? Yeah, I think they take arson quite seriously, so that has to be a yes, regardless of whether it’s my first time or not.
Refocusing my mind, I run my hands over the white, puffy, and yet somehow also scratchy material of the wedding gown Josephine picked out for me. We’ve been in Bridal Bells—the third bridal store in as many days—for three excruciating hours.
I have a headache, which isn’t helped by the bright overhead light reflecting off the pristine mirror and the clogging, sickly sweet scent of roses and champagne that hangs in the air. Josephine has been driving me crazy, pushing me into dress after dress, and acting like I might actually want to marry Massimo.
A package was delivered a few days after we’d officially met. It set out the details of our wedding, where it would take place, how many guests were coming, and where I could find a gown. That was the last I heard from Massimo and I haven’t seen him since he dropped me back after I broke things off with Ethan.
Ethan .
My chest constricts and my breaths turn shallow at the thought of my childhood sweetheart. His reaction when I told him I was going to marry someone else has haunted me. My heart shattered that day and now I’m drifting through life, my anger burning hot and heavy in my chest, with no hope of ever healing.
A knock on the door draws my attention away from my sullen thoughts and everything comes back into stark clarity, as if a bucket of ice water has been thrown over me. Staring at my reflection, I pull in a deep breath, wincing when the confines of the corset boning dig into my ribs. Annoyance adds a bite to my tone when I call, “What do you want?”
I know it’ll be Josephine. She’s hovered in every store, like she’s worried I’ll make a run for it. Truth be told, I would. Hell, I tried to the morning I met Massimo, and look how well that went. But unfortunately for me, there are no windows in this goddamn place. Not that it would make much difference, I’m sure Massimo will have his men watching the building, just like he’s had them watching me since we met.
“Margot, darling?” Josephine calls her voice a mix of tense excitement and exasperation. “Are you coming out? The assistant said this one might just be the one .”
Yeah . It might be the one that makes me snap. I roll my eyes, adjusting the neckline and wishing I was anywhere but here. Gathering up the skirt, I unlock the door and yank it open, causing Josephine to jump out of my path. I stride out of the room, refusing to look at her. Instead, I keep my focus on the mirror and the podium in front of it.
Josephine gasps, her voice soft and breathless when I step onto it to showcase the monstrosity I’m wearing. “Oh, mon chéri , you look so beautiful.”
I close my eyes, the pain of everything I’ve lost mixing with my rage and swirling like a tornado inside of me. A heavy sigh escapes me and I harden my jaw, before opening my eyes. No good will come from giving into the emotions. My future has already been determined and I have no choice if I want to keep Ethan alive. Massimo made that abundantly clear.
My attention shifts to Josephine, her face coated in joy and her hands clasped in front of her chest. Delight makes her gray eyes shine brighter than they should, given the sacrifice I’m making. I hate her . We haven’t always gotten along, but I never thought I’d have such a strong emotion toward her.
“Can you give us a moment?” I ask the two assistants fluttering around me as they adjust the dress and try their hardest to make a sale.
“Of course, we’ll be right outside if you need anything or want to try on a different dress.” The store owner smiles before following the other woman out.
Stepping down from the podium, I walk toward the chairs and take a seat, my focus on not ripping a dress I have no intention of ever wearing again. Josephine hovers in my periphery, her happiness morphing into anxiousness and rippling through me with a suffocating intensity. “What’s wrong, mon chéri ?”
I bite down on the inside of my cheek. She only calls me that when she wants something and I hate that, along with everything she touches, she’s managed to turn the term of endearment into something ugly and tarnished.
At my silence, she continues, her worry evident in the slight hitch in her tone, “You promised you would do this, Margot. You know what’s on the line.”
She’s right . I know exactly what’s at stake: my freedom and being with the man I love. The man that no longer wants anything to do with me. “I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know if I can marry a man I don’t know, one that could have me killed without a second thought. And the fact that you’re okay with me going through with this…” My words trail off, unable to find the right ones to express myself.
Josephine falls into the seat next to me, reaching for my hand and staring at me with tear-brimmed eyes. “No, no, no, no. You have to do this, Margot. I can’t lose Alvin, and besides, Massimo will provide you with a good life. He will. He’s got money and?—”
I cut her off, standing from my seat and pulling out of her hold. My anger spills over and fills the room with a darkness that neither of us can hide from. “Do you really think that matters to me? I’m nothing like you,” I spit, my venom sending Josephine’s head rearing back. “Massimo Marino could have all the money in the world and it wouldn’t change a damn thing. You have made me give up the love of my life so that you can keep a man that is willing to trade your child in payment for his own mistakes. Let that sink in and then come and talk to me about what you can and can’t lose.”
Shaking my head, I grab fistfuls of tulle and storm to the changing room, ignoring her soft weeping. It’s probably her attempt at making me feel bad, at guilting me into doing what she wants me to do. The thought infuriates me and when I enter the room, I slam the door behind me; the force shaking the walls.
A sob rises from my chest, tightening the muscles to an almost unbearable ache. I struggle to inhale, fumbling with the lock on the door before sliding to the floor and letting my tears tumble down my cheeks unchecked.
Why is everything so out of my control?
No, I refuse to think like that, as if everything is slipping through my fingers.
I am strong.
I am brave.
I can face this marriage with my chin held high and make Massimo’s life hell.
Can’t I?
Yes, goddamn it.
My phone vibrates on the bench with a message and I swipe angrily at my cheeks before reaching for it. Hope that it might be Ethan flutters in my chest, but it's soon snuffed out when I read the name of my girlfriend, Reagan.
I wish I didn’t have to lie to Ethan about why I did what I did. More than anything, I wish we had a future that wasn’t dictated by the actions of my stepfather and the selfishness of my mother. In reality, I don’t know that Ethan will ever forgive me, but I do know that I won’t stop trying to make it right between us. Maybe one day I can tell him the truth.
Wiping the wetness from underneath my chin, I pull up the text conversation with Ethan.
MARGOT
I’m so sorry, Ethan.
I love you.
ETHAN
I’m tired of all your apologies, Margot. Besides, if you really loved me, you wouldn’t have broken up with me.
MARGOT
I know.
ETHAN
Is that all I’m going to get? An ‘I know’? After five years?
MARGOT
I can’t give you any more than that. You deserve it, but I can’t.
ETHAN
Are you safe?
MARGOT
I am, but there are bigger things at play that I have no control over.
It’s been two days since I sent that message and he’s not responded. We used to talk every day and now all I have left are my memories and the chain of messages that ended abruptly. My fingers fly across the screen, typing out a message that I don’t know he’ll ever read.
MARGOT
I don’t deserve your forgiveness or your support, but you’re the only one who really knows me. My wedding is on Saturday, at St. Bart’s on Park Avenue. The ceremony starts at 12 noon. I really would like you to come.
Chewing on my bottom lip, I hover my thumb over the send button before pressing it. The screen confirms the message has been delivered, but the silence that follows feels loud and brash. My heart feels heavy and on the verge of breaking all over again.
I know that I’m being selfish, wanting him to be there as a comforting presence, to give me something to hold on to from my lost future. And yet, I can’t help but wonder, will he come? Or have I broken him as much as I have myself?