Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Liana
Pita finds me later, her face lit up with an energy that feels almost infectious, though I’m trying my best to resist it. She bounces on the balls of her feet, unable to hide her excitement.
“It’s time for the wedding dress fitting!” she announces, her words hanging in the air.
Her words don’t bring the joy I know she wants them too, though.
Instead, they hit my stomach and sink right down to the pit.
I glance at her, trying to muster some kind of reaction that isn’t outright dread, but all I manage is a weak smile.
She doesn’t even notice my forced reaction.
Before I can protest or stall, because God knows I want to, she turns on her heel and gestures toward the stairs.
“Come on! Everyone’s downstairs waiting. They’ve got everything ready. Dresses, makeup, the works!”
Her enthusiasm is infectious and almost draws me in, but the thought of people fussing over me makes my insides twist. They are going to transform me into someone else’s vision of the perfect bride.
My feet feel impossibly heavy as I trudge toward the staircase, dragging each step like it might actually delay the inevitable.
As I slowly descend, I hear the sound of muffled laughter and excited chatter filtering through the air. When I get to the bottom and walk into the room, I see a setup that stops me dead in my tracks. These people do not mess around.
The room is completely transformed and almost unrecognizable.
Dresses are everywhere, spilling off racks and tables, cascading onto the floor like a sea of white and cream and champagne.
It’s so extravagant and so overwhelming that for a moment, all I can do is gape.
A laugh bubbles up unexpectedly from my mouth that makes me want to scoff at the entire situation.
For a second, I feel like an outsider crashing into someone else’s fantasy. This certainly can’t be mine.
“Ah! There she is!” A voice cuts through my thoughts before I can fully process them.
Three women appear out of nowhere, sweeping toward me quickly, clearly on a mission. They’re all young, not much older than me. Maybe early to mid twenties at most. For some odd reason, that comforts me.
“Oh my God, she’s gorgeous!” one of them exclaims as she reaches out to touch my arm lightly, as if testing whether I’m real.
“No wonder she locked him down,” another adds with a teasing grin that instantly makes me feel self-conscious.
Before I can say anything, much less figure out how to respond, they launch into more chatter.
“Okay, first things first…dresses! We’ve got everything from sleek and modern to full-on princess vibes. I heard you are an Italian princess? Maybe white with a full crinoline?”
I scrunch my nose up. Maybe that would have been my first choice back in Italy. For some reason, big and white seems much less appealing now. There’s also the fact that I’m not so innocent anymore…
“And makeup! Oh girl, we’re going to bring out those cheekbones.”
“Have you ever done a smoky eye? Rio loves dark makeup.”
One of the girls nudges the other and narrows her eyes at her.
“I mean…that’s what I’ve heard,” she stutters out.
I want to ask what she means by that, but I’m cut off again as they banter back and forth. One of them grabs a dress from the rack and holds it up against me with an appraising eye. I look down and visibly cringe at the ruffles and she must notice the look on my face.
“Hmm…too much poof for you,” she decides before tossing it aside and reaching for another option.
Another woman spins a chair around and pats the seat invitingly.
“Sit! Let’s see what we’re working with here.”
It’s chaos, absolute chaos, but there’s something exciting too.
Their laughter is loud and relentless as it draws me in.
Before I know it, I find myself laughing along with them, even as one of them tugs at my hair to test out different styles while another debates whether satin or silk would suit me better.
“You’re so lucky,” one of them says, her tone playful but edged with envy. “Rio’s like…the whole package.”
“Sexy, loaded and experienced,” another chimes in with a dramatic sigh that sets off another round of giggles between them.
I’m not sure what she means by that last part but I can only imagine. I roll my eyes at their theatrics. Of course I would get stuck marrying a pompous asshole.
“Yeah, I couldn’t care less about the money.”
The words come out harsher than I intend.
“I’ve never even met him. I don’t know about you guys, but old cowboys don’t do it for me.”
That does it. Whatever I said sends them over the edge and they absolutely lose it. One of them doubles over laughing while another clutches her chest like she might faint from lack of oxygen. I look at them, clueless what they think is so funny.
“Oh sweetie,” one finally manages between gasps for breath. “Trust me, he’s not an old cowboy or anything even close to that. I wouldn’t mind seeing him in a hat and boots though.”
“Right,” another sighs dramatically again for effect before adding with mock seriousness, “And his brothers? Hot as sin too. All total playboys, but in the best way possible.”
I don’t miss the word “playboy” and that makes something twist uncomfortably in my chest. Before I can dwell on it too long, they’re back to work, as they pull more dresses off racks and hold them up against me until one finally catches my eye.
Sleek off-white satin with a sweetheart neckline that would hug every curve before spilling into an elegant train behind me.
It’s beautiful and it’s everything I wouldn’t have been allowed to wear back home.
When I step into the dress and catch sight of myself in the mirror for the first time, the room falls quiet.
“Wow,” one whispers softly.
One of the women pulls the veil up out of my eyes to give me a clearer view of my makeup and for a long moment, there’s just me and the mirror.
My eyes are sharper and darker than usual under bold liner and eye shadow.
It makes me look older, more mature…sexy even.
My hair falls heavy in glossy curls, the strands pinned up just enough to hold the veil in place without ruining the softness.
I stare, and for once, I actually like the person looking back at me.
It’s not a familiar feeling, but right now, I don’t hate what I see.
It makes me smile as I run my hands down the fabric.
Unfortunately, the guilt seeps through as I stare down at the dress that fits my body perfectly.
How can I let myself feel any kind of excitement right now?
I gave myself to someone else, someone I have fallen for, but what if…
what if the man I’m supposed to marry isn’t as bad as I thought he was?
My stomach twists at the guilt that floods though me.
Because no matter how good my future husband may turn out to be, I just know Frankie will still linger in every corner of my heart.