Chapter 16 #2
I swallow hard. “I made a mistake, Mom. I took out a bad loan. And Ronan has helped me. I can’t talk about the consequences of it or what happened…
I really, really can’t. But this is part of fixing all of that.
I’m willing to do it. And he’s taking care of me.
Of you. He’s taking care of all of the things that made me take out that loan in the first place.
He’s been incredibly generous to both of us. I need to do this."
My mom frowns. "Generous enough to make this worth it? Even if love never comes?"
I draw in a slow breath. I can’t tell her that the marriage is temporary, that love will never come because we won’t be together long enough to change the circumstances of our marriage…
even if that were ever going to be possible.
“I’m grateful for what he’s done. And I’m satisfied with what this marriage means.
I really am. No one is forcing me to do this. ”
That’s technically true. Ronan isn’t forcing me. The fact that there aren’t really any other options isn’t something I want to tell my mom.
“I trust you, Leila,” she says finally, after a long moment’s silence. “I don’t understand this, and I don’t know if I think it’s best, but I trust you. You’ve never been one to do something without thinking it through. But Leila," she continues, "I need you to promise me something."
"What?" My stomach twists.
"Promise me you're not just doing this for me. For my medical bills, for my treatment. Because if you are—"
"I'm not," I interrupt, and that’s true, at least. Ronan would keep covering that even if I didn’t marry him. Marriage was never even on the table until his father threatened me. “I promise. Ronan’s help didn’t hinge on marriage, and it wouldn’t stop if we weren’t getting married.”
My mother takes a slow breath and nods. “Alright,” she says finally. “Who’s coming to help you get ready?”
I tell her about Ronan’s sister as we eat the breakfast Ida brings up—French toast with fresh whipped cream and sliced strawberries, fruit salad, and mimosas.
I can barely eat a bite, despite how delicious it all is, but I do my best. We’re still chatting when I hear a knock on the door, and Ida shows Annie and Alicia in, the garment bag with my wedding dress over her arm.
Ida goes to hang it up and get the dress out as Alicia comes over to hug me, her eyes wide.
“Oh my god, Chip, this place is incredible,” she stage-whispers, and I see Annie’s mouth quirk with humor behind her. “I didn’t know anyone actually lived like this.”
“Neither did I until I came here,” I say wryly. “Annie, is there any chance you know how to do hair? Because all three of us are equally bad at it.”
Annie laughs, though I can see a hint of disquiet in her eyes. “Of course,” she says finally. “Just let me know if you want up or down.”
“I’ll leave it to your discretion,” I say nervously, remembering Annie’s warning about her brother not needing distractions.
I’ve become exactly that, and I somehow doubt that Ronan has told her the truth about why we’re getting married.
I wonder what story he has told her, and I wish we’d gotten those straight before the wedding.
We’ll need to before the reception, in case anyone that I don’t know there—which will be pretty much everyone—asks me questions.
“Oh my goodness,” my mom breathes as Ida shakes out my wedding dress and hangs it from the front of the wardrobe. “That’s exquisite.”
“It cost a fortune,” Alicia says, and I shoot her a glare.
“Don’t be crass, Alicia,” my mom chides. “I can’t wait to see you in it,” she adds to me, and I feel a smile at the edges of my lips. Despite everything, my mom is excited to see me in my wedding dress, and that means everything to me.
“Thank you,” I murmur to her as Alicia starts getting out makeup and tools and setting them on the vanity, and Annie hangs back, watching the goings-on with an expression I can’t quite read. “For being here, for supporting this even though you don't understand it all."
“I trust you,” my mom says softly. “And I want to be here for you.”
I swallow hard, fighting back tears as I sit down, and Alicia starts in on my face, with Annie behind me working on my hair.
I try not to wonder what Annie must be thinking about all of this—if she’s remembering Ronan’s last wedding or thinking about his former wife.
I push that thought away quickest of all.
This might not be a marriage based on love, but I don’t want to think about who else my soon-to-be husband has done this with.
I don’t know anything about her or that marriage, and it makes me feel anxious that he hasn’t said anything to me about it.
But I’m just a temporary wife, after all. Maybe he doesn’t want to be that vulnerable with someone who isn’t going to be a permanent part of his life.
An hour later, I’m transformed into a bride.
I’ve never been someone who does more than the most basic makeup, but Alicia does things to my face that make my cheekbones seem higher, my lips fuller, my eyes wider, all without seeming like I’m wearing very much makeup at all.
Annie puts my hair up into an elegant chignon, fixing it with so many pins that I have no idea how I’ll ever get them out, and then takes a small velvet box from my mom.
“That was your grandmother’s,” my mom says, from where she’s sitting. “I’m sure she’d want you to have it.”
I bite my lip, nodding as I try not to cry. After what my mom shared earlier, it feels like it means even more to have something of my grandmother’s today, and I open the box carefully, looking inside.
It’s an antique gold hair comb, with tiny inset sapphires along the top. “She got it later on in life,” my mom explains. “Not exactly a family heirloom yet, but we can make it one.”
My stomach tightens at the implication that Ronan and I will have children, except—we won’t. This marriage won’t last that long.
I slide the comb into my hair carefully with Alicia’s help, and then Annie brings the dress for me to slip into. I walk over to where my mom is sitting so she can help to do the buttons up the back, and as I look in the mirror, I can’t believe how perfect it is.
I might not feel like I belong in this world, but this dress makes me look as if I do.
For one day, anyway, I won’t look so out of place—might not even feel as out of place, with it here to bolster me.
I swallow hard as Alicia helps me with my veil, my pulse hammering as I spritz on a little of my sage and sea salt perfume and try to come to terms with the fact that it’s almost time to leave.
Slipping my feet into my white heels, I look at the time. “We have an hour,” Annie says, echoing my thoughts. “The rest of us will finish getting ready.”
My mom brought a sleek navy blue sheath gown to wear, which fits her beautifully and looks stunning on her, and Alicia and Annie change into their dresses.
I don’t have a bridal party, but Annie is wearing a lovely rose pink gown, and Alicia a deep emerald green.
They help each other with their hair and makeup as I try not to pace and fiddle with my dress, going to look out of the window as I wait for it to be time to leave.
It snowed again last night, and there’s a crisp white blanket over everything, dulled by the gray skies that threaten more snow. My stomach twists, my heart beating a quick patter against my ribs as I try to breathe, try not to panic.
Ronan and I are in agreement about all of this.
He’s marrying me to keep me safe, and then, when this is all over, he’ll let me go.
He’ll make sure my mother and I are provided for in the divorce.
There’s nothing more that I could ask for—this is already a thousand times better than where I was when I was trapped in that cage.
It’s not that I don’t trust Ronan. He’s proved over the last two weeks that he’s a man of his word—if this is some con to make me trust him only to pull the rug out from under me at the last moment, it feels like an unnecessarily complicated one.
I’ve always been in the position of lesser power—if he wanted to sell me himself or take advantage of me he could have.
But I can’t stop thinking about tonight. About the fact that we’ll have to go to bed together. That the offer I made him will become a reality… and I’m not as upset about it as I should be.
“Leila.” My mother’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “It’s time to go.”
We head downstairs to the waiting SUV—no limo or town car, this is one of Ronan’s bulletproof-glass vehicles, designed to make sure we can get to the church safely.
We’re escorted by several of his guards and flanked by two other SUVS in front of us and behind, ensuring that we make it to the Cathedral of the Holy Cross without incident.
The ride to the cathedral passes in a blur.
My mother is sitting next to me in the middle row, Annie and Alicia behind us, and I can feel her anxiety radiating off her in waves.
She doesn't know all the details about Ronan, but it’s clear that there’s potential danger.
The fact that we're surrounded by armed men is a pretty clear indicator. I wonder if she’s assuming, like Alicia, that he’s some sort of celebrity or billionaire.
The latter is true, I think, just a different kind than they’re imagining.
The Cathedral of the Holy Cross is Boston's most prominent Catholic church, and as we pull up, I can see why Ronan chose it.
It's grand and imposing, a place for royalty or equally powerful people to exchange their vows. I’m glad I chose the dress I did—I feel like a princess, and this looks like a place for a princess to have her wedding.
The spires stretch toward the iron-gray sky, and even from the outside, it's clear this is meant to be a statement.