50. Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty
Emma
This wasn’t in the contract.
I welcome the bile as it sits in my throat, but it never amounts to anything.
Is it too much to ask for a surprise stomach bug?
That might be the only thing that could get me out of this, but even then, I’m sure they’d find a way to pin some curls in my hair and give me a potion and a pat on the back.
A beautiful white gown rests in my hands as I stand in front of the floor length mirror.
A wedding dress. The veil is hanging over the silver inlay at the edges of the mirror, covering half of it.
“Excuse me, is there any way I can use my phone, or . . . talk to Mr. Everhart?” I ask one of the staff, but they’re busy helping me get ready for tonight.
“I’m sorry, hon. He’s indisposed for the gala. Is there something I can help you with?”
She’s young, my age even, but has a calming aura about her. Her face lit up when I complimented her freckles.
“It’s . . . the dress. See, I knew this was an arranged marriage thing, but no one said anything about wearing a wedding dress.”
“Oh, it was added this year. It’s all for show, really.”
I’m in over my head. I hate that I have no one to tell and, currently, no one to apologize to. Why do I do this? Why do I bulldoze ahead without thinking?
There’s no excuse for this kind of recklessness because there is no one to catch me if I fail. I was so sure of my choice until I saw that notebook. Did I create a contract with a killer?
That changes things.
“Can I . . . ask you a favor?”
“Sure. Whatever you need.”
“Can I have my phone to take a picture? I’d love to show my dad.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. All your belongings have already been brought to the venue.”
I nod. Of course they have. I hid the notebook in my purse, though, so there was no chance of them taking that.
“Wait. Dacre Everhart . . . He’s at one of the estates. I forgot the name of it. Is there any way I could maybe phone him and ask him to bring it to me? We’re great friends in the culinary club together.”
“Let me see what I can do!”
I have to tell Dacre what I saw in the notebook, even if he’s choosing a different path. He needs to know who his father was, and especially who his grandfather is.
Potentially a killer. Maybe that will change something for him, too.
I pull the satin dress off the hanger and make my way into it. The white fabric hugs my hips, leaving behind a long, flowing train. The straps fall off my shoulders, and I tug at them as they fall.
Mom, what have I done?
Wearing a wedding dress without marrying the person I love isn’t something my mother would do. If she were here, what would she suggest? Run? Jump out the window?
I hate that I don’t know the answer to that question. I don’t know what she would do. I don’t know what she thinks or if she’s even looking down on me, and I’ll never know. I’ll never meet the old version of her or the person she’d have become.
I’m completely alone.
“Here you are! We have a landline between the houses. I called the house he’s at, and there was no answer, so I snagged his cellphone number.”
“You’re actually the best. Do you know that?”
She smiles and hands me the phone, watching me punch in the numbers. I wait.
It rings and rings. When he doesn’t answer, I try again.
That’s it. I really am alone in this one.
There has to be a positive. Maybe the vampire who picks me will love my glitter. Maybe they’ll be the glue that holds me together and makes something else entirely. Something even more bright and beautiful. The structure to my shine, just like my father did for my mother.
Or maybe it will be some rich guy’s wife who wins me and locks me in a cage for harvesting because she hates me. The jury is out.
“Maybe we can try again a little later?” She pats me lightly on the shoulder.
I nod. “Thank you . . . Can you . . . help me with the back?”
“Of course.”