25. Cassandra
Cassandra
Makeup—natural and flawless.
Hair—waves accented with a real diamond tiara.
Dress—getting final touch-ups from Jaqueline as she circles me.
In the bridal suite’s full-length mirror, I scrutinize my reflection.
Although there’s little to scrutinize.
I’ve never felt more like Mafia royalty than I do at this moment.
My pure-white dress is princess-cut with a full skirt and a sweetheart neckline. The bodice is covered in lace, with delicate cap sleeves and floral appliqués that drop from the waist at varying lengths onto the top of the skirt.
“Oh, Cas,” my mother coos from where she sits, sipping champagne. “You’re going to make me cry.” She wipes a finger under her watering eyes.
“Christy, don’t you dare,” my makeup artist calls from the wet bar, her products scattered on the marble countertop. Sadie waits patiently on a stool as the artist applies her eye shadow.
“I know, I know.” My mother stands and crosses to me, gently placing her hand on my shoulder and squeezing. “Even considering all the gorgeous ballet costumes you’ve worn, you’ve never looked more beautiful.”
“So do you.” I turn and place a kiss on her cheek, earning a scolding from our makeup artist.
My mother’s hazelnut-colored eyes lock with mine as she gives me a wide smile.
She has the same high cheekbones and full lips as I do, but her hair is a dirty blonde, highlighted to cover the few grays.
She’s only forty-nine, so her skin has yet to show much aging other than smile lines.
I’ve always believed she’s the perfect example of natural beauty.
“I feel like this all happened so fast.” Backing up, she waves her hand in the air, warding off the heaviness. “Last time I saw you, you were recovering from a breakup.”
“And surgery,” I remind her. “Mom, that was a few years ago.”
She shakes her head. “It couldn’t have been so long.”
“We’ve been busy.” I shift as Jaqueline tells me to lift my arm. “And living across the country from each other isn’t easy.”
“It will be easier now that you’ll be Mrs. Dominic Tariello.” She winks before whispering conspiratorially, “I heard he has a private jet! You can visit Charlotte whenever you want. I can’t believe you’re marrying such a successful entrepreneur.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, catching Sadie’s giggle. If my mother only knew.
“All right, ladies.” Natalie claps her hands, entering the suite. “We’ve got half an hour. Time to put on the finishing touches.”
“Perfect.” Jaqueline stands to admire her work. “Don’t you dare destroy this dress.” She warns. “I want pictures of you to show off in my portfolio.”
“I won’t, I promise.”
“Oh, I need my shoes.” My mother scurries away.
“How do I look?” Sadie jumps off her stool, her hands intertwined under her chin to frame her face.
“A lot better than you do when you’re on stage,” I tease. She rolls her eyes and runs off to fetch her dress.
Finally allowed to move, I cross the room toward Natalie, who is scouring her event planning checklist.
“Have you seen the men?” I ask.
She pauses the perusal of her never-ending chores and grins. “Just got back from their room. Most of them are drinking beer and playing billiards. Dominic was the only one ready to go. No cold feet from him.”
“None from me either,” I say as Jaqueline approaches with my veil.
“We can put this on downstairs. I don’t want to risk it getting caught and torn.”
Leaning over the bar sink to avoid any accidental spills, I take a few sips of the high-end champagne Natalie stocked in our suite. I at least remembered to eat before I started the primping process, so I shouldn’t starve before Dominic and I make our entrance to the reception.
As husband and wife.
I smile into my champagne glass.
One year ago, I was a destitute former ballerina, with a plan to move to Las Vegas, clinging to the only profession I had ever known.
Now, I’m marrying the love of my life, exploring new aspects of my career, and living a lifestyle I never dreamed of.
Things couldn’t be better.
I finish the champagne and place the flute on the counter.
My maid of honor, Sadie, and bridesmaids, Whitney and Amanda, are ready to go, excitedly chatting by the suite entrance. My mother finishes her second glass of champagne while she goes over details with Natalie and Jaqueline, while our hair and makeup stylists enjoys the fruits of their labor.
“It’s time,” Natalie says as all eyes turn to me.
I smooth my skirts, set my shoulders, and smile so wide my cheeks hurt.
“Let’s get married!”