19. Ivy #2
The joy in his eyes is sparkling.
These dresses were made from my sketches that I drew in secret over the years.
Every single one of them is a live, tangible creation of what I designed.
Holy God! How did this happen?
How did one of THE most sought-after wedding dressmakers in the world get these sketches?
“W-who… who gave you the designs?” I ask, my mind buzzing.
“Well, we can’t reveal our sources, but we did receive them in the strictest, most severe of confidence from the someone who rebuilt my life after my reputation and business tanked a few years ago.”
I remember the scandal. I was so heartbroken when he was shunned from the industry.
“You’re Aurelio de Gio Pignatelli,” I whisper, looking dumbstruck.
“That’s me, sì ,” he says with a smile.
“I’ve always wanted to meet you…” I mutter like a fool.
I grew up without friends, especially the times I was away from Westbrook Blues.
Those were the loneliest years of my life… so, I spent them by myself, sketching different things and watching mindless television, including fashion shows before discovering C-dramas.
I’d watch the wedding dresses being modeled down the runaway and imagine what it would be like to be a designer.
Then I’d imagine how it feels to design my own wedding dress, the one I’d wear to marry Emmett.
And now… my most profound and sentimental sketches fell into the hands of my number one designer!
Earlier, Vaughn had picked three dresses for me from a generic lineup… but Ripley not only replaced those people and threw out those three dresses, he brought in my number one designer of all time who not only is dressing me but also brought my creations to life!
What is this?
But most of all, who did this?
A godawful sinking suspicion kicks in the pit of my stomach so suddenly that my knees weaken and heart drops.
Emmett Easton!
How could he do this?
He had time to get all this organized, ignore my messages and disappear?
Is this really what he wants? Me marrying his cousin?
"Oh God," I whisper to myself, more confused now than ever before.
For a moment, acute sadness washes over me, clinging to my skin and bones like a vise.
“Do… do you hate them?” Aurelio asks hesitantly.
“No, no… it’s not…” I trail off.
My life is truly pathetic but something as awesome as this doesn’t happen all the time.
“No, I’m just overwhelmed. It’s so wonderful to meet you!” I say with a plastered smile that I hope is genuine and joyful. “Your ‘04 Fall Collection at the House of Hermès was incredibly innovative!”
“ Dios mio , you remember that collection?” Aurelio gasps and I squeal, nodding my head.
“It broke the mold for architectural headwear! How can anyone forget?”
Aurelio smiles so wide, appreciation glowing in his eyes.
“You are now my favorite!” he suddenly declares. “Now, let’s make your shotgun wedding the most memorable!”
And just like that, Aurelio, the assistants, and all the other women in the room rush into a flurry of fashion talk and activity.
I try on each dress, happily modeling them in front of the team in the room.
They all give each dress a ten and we have a hard time deciding on the perfect one.
Anecdotes of horrifying wedding stories are shared by the assistants and we all burst out laughing.
“Can’t I wear all eight?” I ask teasingly and everyone gasps.
“So you trip and break your neck from the weight? None of us can afford that liability, grazie .”
Everyone laughs, including me, but deep inside, I feel so crushed, overwhelmed, fighting my migraine and pain while trying to shake off my worry.
What happened to Emmett and where is he?
Beneath my fake smile and cheeriness, I’m angry.
If I trace that anger, it’ll lead to something I don’t want to think about right now, so I do my best to bury all that mess.
He disappeared without a word, so what’s the point of being angry with him?
I hide all these emotions and thoughts well. Pretending, after all, is my craft. I can do it even at death’s door.
When the hair stylist steps in and starts trying different styles for my hair to match the dress, I sit there, animatedly chiming in.
We all agree on a half-up do without straightening my natural curls and coils.
After, several head pieces and veils are brought in.
I didn’t design any of these, but they all go well with each of the dresses, so we try them on after my hair is done.
I finally settle on a dress.
I choose the eighth dress, which is the last dress I sketched a few years ago.
My memories of that time are a complicated mix, just like how I feel now.
It was Christmastime. Astraea and Alex King had invited the lot of us to a cabin in the snowy mountains of Colorado.
At first, everything was hopeful, peaceful, happier, more optimistic and calmer.
But like a light switch, the trip ended with me being severely heartbroken.
Emmett had kissed my forehead and gently told me he didn’t feel the same way for me. couldn’t sleep.
In my agony and tears, I sketched the design of this dress. Since everything has come to this, I’ll wear it now.
Over an hour and a half later, my makeup and hair are expertly done.
I’m in the most gorgeous wedding dress that I designed myself, made by my favorite designer who received the sketches somehow, and I’m wearing a one-of-a-kind pair of heels that were made just for me.
Aurelio tells me these are the most expensive shoes in the world at the moment.
So when the knock sounds at the door and Ripley appears, leading a photographer in, I’m stunned.
“For memories,” he says in his cultured voice.
“Memories?” What kind of torture is this?
Resigned to my fate, I let Aurelio and the photographer arrange me in the way they want like a puppet and the pictures are taken.
More than once I’m asked to smile, but even when I do I see the slight grimaces on their faces.
“I’m sorry, I can’t smile on command,” I say apologetically. I always felt awkward taking yearbook pictures at school, let alone this.
But in no time at all, we’re done.
Before I leave, Aurelio looks at me with tears. “You’re the most stunning bride I’ve ever seen. Be happy, bella . You deserve it!”
I don’t have the heart to tell him the true circumstances of this wedding, so I just smile woodenly and return his hug, then I follow Ripley to my fucked-up fate.
“The ceremony will be in the garden, Young Miss,” Ripley tells me after a while of silence.
“A garden?” I mumble.
“Yes, right outside the library where you were.”
“Oh,” I mutter. “Won’t it be cold?”
“It’s an enclosed space and temperature-controlled,” he says kindly. “Just like the library, it was built by the young mistress when she lived here. Construction for the library was just recently completed.”
I pause.
“Did you have a chance to look at the books, Young miss?” Ripley asks.
“No, I was too caught up with the vastness of the room.”
“Yes, well, the young master went to great lengths to put it all together. The library’s interior was rebuilt ever since the young master came to New York a few weeks ago. We just completed the work today.”
“W-what?” I stutter.
“I understand you’re a book lover, Young Miss. There’s a wide section of romance books and Greek mythology.”
Ache… a continuous or prolonged dull pain in a part of one’s body.
But this time, the pain is not dull, nor is it localized to just a small part.
It’s everywhere.
In a panic, I quickly text Emmett again.
ARE YOU OKAY? What do you need me to do??
EMMETT, SAY SOMETHING! PLEASE!
In no time at all, we arrive at the most impressive greenhouse garden I’ve ever seen, but my steps freeze when I step just past the open doors.
This isn’t at all what I was expecting.
The state the garden is in brings a chill down my spine.
For some reason, I was expecting something extraordinary straight out of a movie with flowers, birds chirping happily, but all I see are wilting flowers, overgrown weeds, dry leaves, and dead plants.
“Why does it look like this?” I ask in shock.
“The young master has forbidden anyone to touch this garden for the past eighteen years.”
“If he forbade it, why is the ceremony happening here?” I question but don’t receive an answer.
I know better than anyone that Emmett doesn’t play when it comes to his mother.
Ripley doesn’t reply. Instead, I’m led quietly down the messy paths toward the center clearing where I spot what looks like a makeshift altar.
In front of it stands a priest, and next to him is a judge, at least that’s what I presume from the robes they are both wearing.
A red carpet has been rolled in the middle, like a makeshift aisle. On either side of it are chairs.
For some reason, I’m bothered by this.
If Emmett forbade anyone to touch this garden, then why is this crap being done here?
Is it because he’s not here?
I finally understand why Emmett’s hatred for his family runs deep.
An orchestra I hadn’t noticed before starts playing soft, classical music.
It’s not the tune usually played when brides enter the chapel and walk down the aisle. No, this is something completely different.
A tune that feels eerie for some reason.
“The bride has arrived,” the priest suddenly says, then everyone present rises.
I see my mother, Melissa, Senator Hughes, and his father to one side of the aisle.
Then on the other, Emilio, Giovanni and Angelo are on the second row, while Scarlet and her grandfather are on the front row, all of them looking at me.
As I watch, Vaughn enters from the other side and comes to stand at the end of the aisle.
He looks incredible in the tux and bow tie.
His hair is swept back at the sides, a bit messy on top.
He’s smiling at me, waiting for me as the music plays, but I can’t move.
I stand there like my feet are frozen to the spot.
Alarms are blaring in my head.
Panic like a violent waterfall starts cascading down on me with fervent chaos.
It dawns on me that I’m still clutching my phone with a death grip.