Chapter 4
I’m hot.
I’m sweaty.
I’m annoyed.
I’m overwhelmed.
And I can’t stand to look, try on or be picked apart anymore in this bridal salon.
My mother has made me try on several dresses, but I lost count after dress number twelve.
In her words the dresses were too small for my body, my back fat was too much on display.
My arms were too flabby in a strapless dress.
My cleavage was showing more than I should on my wedding day.
My waist was not cinched enough. There is probably a few that I’m missing but at this point, I just want to go home and forget about this whole entire disaster of a day.
The only saving grace is that my sister is here.
I love her for trying to help with the situation, but my mother was not having it.
Mya, the bridal attendant, whispers to me in the fitting room after yet again my mother cast her opinion at me. “I can tell that you have hit your max in this appointment, and I don’t blame you.”
I meet her soft brown eyes in the mirror.
“The last dress was the only time in this appointment that your face lit up, but it was not the one…yet.” I’m still standing in the white, satin ballgown that has one high slit on the right side, showing off my thick tan leg.
The sleeves are capped off my shoulders with the slightest of cleavage.
The waist has rouching to hide my largeness.
My gaze is locked on the mid-size bridal boutique attendant. She has the perfect amount of curves with no rolls on her stomach that I can see. The way she has her blonde hair curled at the ends with enough volume at her roots is stunning.
“Maybe today is not the day that I find my wedding dress. I can always try another day, plus I think my mother is right that none of these dresses are for me.” I say, pushing back the tears of frustration.
She smiles at me with her crimson red lips. “I have one more trick up my sleeve that I have been saving in case you did not find anything.” She places her hands on her hips while I’m standing on the pedestal in the fitting room. “Do you trust me?”
Closing my eyes, I count to three in my head before I respond. “Sure, I guess. One more to add to the no pile anyway from my mother.”
“I’ll be back in a moment,” she says before she leaves me in the room.
I twist my arms behind my back to unzip the dress.
Letting it pool around my feet on the podium.
My eyes trail up my half-naked body. My legs are thick, and jiggly and does not have that gap in the middle.
My underwear is cute with the touches of lace, but cuts into my wide hips.
The fupa pokes out of them slightly. My stomach has stretch marks and is nowhere near flat.
My full breasts spill out of the strapless bra I have on.
They too have stretch marks on them. All I can think about is what Ian is going to think about when he sees me naked for the first time.
Maybe I can convince him to leave the lights off or something.
I’m so lost in my own thoughts that I don’t hear Mya return to the dressing room. She is sporting the biggest grin on her face with the dress in her hands, which is still concealed in the garment bag.
“I think this is going to win them over, but most importantly, win you over. This dress screams Isabella.” She hangs it up on the hook to the left of the room.
“Okay,” is all I can say because honestly, I have already mentally checked out of this appointment.
Mya ignores me and tends to the dress I have sitting on the floor. She hangs it up among the others in the room.
“This time, I want you to face away from the mirror while I help you into this dress.” She tells me, and I raise my eyebrows at her request. “This is what I like to call the yes moment. The moment you see yourself as a bride for the first time. The moment you see yourself as a woman who is sexy and beautiful. The moment where you don’t ever want to take the dress off.
The moment where you say this is the dress you will walk down the aisle in. ”
I take in her words with hopefulness as she turns to take the dress out of the bag.
Turning away from the mirror, my eyes widen at the stunning fabric she has taken out of the bag.
The top of the dress has pearls throughout with an interknit design but not over the top.
The front dips a little but not deep enough to reveal my breasts.
The sleeves are capped with the same design.
The lining is a lace material with a ribbon in the back to tighten to my liking.
It stops at the waist leaving the bottom all tulle.
It’s almost a ball gown but an A frame style.
“Are you ready?” Mya asks before the beautiful dress touches my skin.
My hands reach out to lightly for my fingertips to touch the fabric. “Yes. I want to try this one on.” My voice comes out as an excited whisper.
Mya smiles big and starts to unbutton the back of the dress for me to get into.
She bends in front of me to step into the dress.
I use her shoulders to hold my balance on the stand.
I don’t have to shimmy my way into the beautiful lace and tulle material.
It slides up my legs, my hips and waist with ease.
I slip my arms into the sleeves ever so gently without ripping the lace or having it pull against my flabby arms. Pressing my hands on my waist as Mya zips the inner part of the dress then buttons the outer layer.
Once the dress is fully on my body, Mya scoots down to gather the long train and says, “Okay, Isabella, turn around slowly when you are ready.”
Letting out a deep breath, I move my feet that are shoved into a pair of nude pumps ever so slightly.
I close my eyes at the last second to not ruin the anticipation of seeing myself in the dress.
Taking in the few moments to let myself believe that I will be happy with what I see in the mirror before letting in the negative comments that I know are only waiting to be hurled at me right outside the door.
My eyelashes flutter as I open, and my eyes widen at the person standing in front of me right as Mya fluffs out my train.
Holy freaking shit, I feel and look beautiful.
The dress hugs my curves the way I dream other clothes would.
It makes my waist appear smaller when in fact is not.
It makes my cleavage look sexy but not too much.
My heart and my mind are for once in agreement that this is the dress I’m to marry a stranger in.
At least the dress will be the only good thing out of this horrible day looming over my head.
Meeting Mya’s gaze in the mirror, she asks, “Are you ready to go out to the firing squad?”
Feeling confident, I say, “Yes, I am. I’m ready.”
She helps me step down and gathers some of the material so I can walk out to the show room.
My mother is talking to my sister, who has a blank look across her face.
But when she notices me walking out, her face lights up like a kid on Christmas morning.
Right then, I know that my sister is on my side.
My mother turns her head and her Botoxed face tries to frown at my entrance in the dress.
I step on the stand in front of the mirrors, I turn to face my mother and sister.
My sister is the first one to speak. “Izzy! You look fucking stunning! You are beautiful already, but this dress brings out the sparkle in your eye. This is you, sis.” Her eyes start to water, which in turn makes mine, but I blink them back in fear of a tongue lashing from my mother.
“I guess this will have to do, Isabella. It appears to be the only dress in this god-awful store that seems to fit you.” My mother rolls her eyes and dismisses Mya. “Thank heavens you will not need any alterations. That means, my dear daughter, no eating the junk you eat daily.”
Lucia turns to our mother and says, “Mother, I think maybe for once you try being encouraging to Isabella. It’s not every day your family marries you off to a stranger like some barbaric custom. This is not the 1800s or something.”
“Lucia, please darling. This is what grown-ups do. You’re too young to understand at your age.
” Our mother ignoring anything my sister said to her.
Turning her focus back to Mya. “Let me know how much the dress is. The exact one she has on since we will be taking it with us today.” She reaches into her purse to grab her black card to hand to Mya. “Just put it on this.”
I can feel the tension in the room grow minute by minute. Suddenly, this special moment I haved before my mother looks or speaks to me is gone. Reality comes crashing in.
“Did you hear anything I just said to you?” Lucia pauses with the fork of salad halfway to her mouth.
My mind was not here mentally, and I heard nothing she said.
I kept thinking of how lately it feels like someone is either watching me or stalking me.
I’m not sure which is worse. My skin seemed hot with a cold shiver going down my spine.
I couldn’t put my finger on it. Which is strange because at the coffee shop I stop at daily, I felt it there too.
It’s bizarre, and it’s probably the anxiety leading up to this shame of a wedding. My mind is playing tricks on me.
Clearing my throat, I say, “Um, no. Sorry.” I look down at my untouched salad in front of me.
My sister tilts her head to the side after she takes a bite. She stares at me for a moment while she chews. “You know, you could have told mom and dad to suck it. Right?”
My eyes widen at her suggestion. “And to have a death wish? No thanks, Luc. If it’s not me, then it would be you or even them marrying Joseph off to some mafia princess.
I couldn’t do that to either of you. Plus, we all know there is no love lost between our parents and me.
You and Joseph can do no wrong in their eyes, whereas I am the failure. ”
I let the words fall out of my mouth and float around in the air around us. I’m not wrong in what I have said, and it’s not the first time I have talked about this with my sister.
Placing her fork down on the table, she leans forward.
“I know this is not what you want to do. You don’t want to be someone’s property and to be treated like a mafia baby making machine.
No, big sis, I know you want to be loved by someone who worships the ground you walk on.
Treat, you like the queen you are. Love you more than life itself.
” She pauses and to gesture to something behind me.
“Like that couple over there in the corner of this café. Not a care in the world, just lost in each other’s eyes like some romance movie or romance book.
That right there is what you deserve, not this marrying you off to benefit the family in some sick twisted gain. It’s gross.”
I watch the couple. How they smile at each other.
How he tucks the loose strand of hair behind her ear before he kisses her softly on the cheek.
How her eyes flutter at the touch of his lips.
How he places his arm around her back to pull her closer into the seat to be next to him.
Like he can’t stand being apart from her.
If he were, it would be as if he could not breathe, and his world would end without her in it.
That is not how the cookie crumbles for me and the life I was born into. I’m at the mercy of my parents, to please them and the family.
Turning my head back to my sister, I say, “Lucia, there is no changing their minds on this. It is what it is. This is the life we were born into and the only life we know. It was written out for us before we even took our first breath, and you know that. We do what we must do for the family to survive.”
Stabbing her salad with anger, she says, “Well, it’s gross and dumb.”
Moving my own lunch around on my plate, taking in her words when I get the sense of a pair of eyes watching me.
The cold shiver falling down my spine makes me shift in my chair.
Looking over my shoulder, I don’t see anyone out of the ordinary, just the people talking, laughing and eating in the café.
Turing my head back, I roll my shoulders and my neck to erase whatever I’m feeling.
Again, it’s just the anxiety over everything recently, and hopefully, when this wedding over with, maybe it will go away.
Or at least, I think it will.