Chapter 8 Blue
The wedding dress shop, an ostentatious display of satin and lace, feels suffocating as I step inside. The air is heavy with the cloying scent of roses, a stark contrast to the turmoil churning in my heart. This is the last place I want to be, but my sister insisted on dragging me here.
Mannequins draped in ivory and pearl gowns loom like silent judges, their empty eyes staring through my facade. The chandeliers cast a harsh, almost glaring light, making the room seem more like a stage for an elaborate charade than a place of joy.
I wander past racks of dresses, each one more elaborate and glittering than the last, their beauty mocking my discontent. The mirrors lining the walls reflect not a blushing bride, but a prisoner trapped in a gilded cage.
As the saleswoman approaches with a bright, eager smile, I feel a knot tighten in my chest. The silk and tulle that should symbolize dreams feel like the tangible threads of my impending entrapment.
“Do you have an appointment,” the middle-aged woman asks, looking up at me through her tortoise-colored cat-eye eyeglasses. Her pinched face and puckered lips are a mirror to my own distaste.
“Yes. It’s under Blue LeBlanc,” Lacy says. “Two-thirty.”
“Very prompt.” The woman nods, and her face relaxes slightly. At least she’s giving us a hint of approval, although I don’t know why I even care. “I’m Gloria. I’ll be assisting you today. Can I get you ladies a glass of Champagne?”
“Yes, please,” I say immediately.
“Not for me,” Lacy says. As soon as Gloria’s out of earshot she leans over to whisper, “I’m late. Now, don’t get too excited, but if there’s even a chance that I’m pregnant, I don’t want to ruin it.”
“That’s great,” I say, trying to be enthusiastic for her. I know how much she wants to give Xavier an heir. She seems to genuinely want the child too, which is a relief. I’d hate to think that she only wanted one so she could cement her financial connection with Xavier.
“Are you the bride?” Gloria asks, handing Lacy a glass of sweet tea before passing a sparkling Champagne flute to me.
“I’m Lacy, the maid of honor. My sister Blue is getting married. She’s looking for something traditional. Very Southern. Dramatic. With lots of lace and beading. Probably a mermaid or trumpet style. That’s in this season, correct?” Lacy asks. I have no doubt she’s done her homework on this. She knows far more about what’s fashionable than I do.
“Do you have anything to add?” Gloria asks me, as if my opinion is an afterthought.
“I’d like it to be pink,” I say softly. Although I’ve never been the type of girl who grows up dreaming of her wedding, I do like the idea of having a non-traditional color. Pink is so feminine and gorgeous. I’d love to find something in a soft blush.
“She’s so funny,” Lacy laughs. “Of course she’s wearing white. You’re still a virgin so there’s no reason to pretend you’re not.”
“How would you know?” I grumble.
“Is there something you’re not telling me?” Her face goes dark and scary. I don’t know why she’d even care. It’s weird.
“No. I just wanted to see your reaction.” I smirk.
Gloria looks from me to her then back. She narrows her gaze at me. “White is traditional. What venue are you using?”
“Our father’s mansion,” Lacy says. “It’s a gorgeous white antebellum plantation mansion. It’s been in our family since before the War Against Northern Aggression.”
The fact that she’s using that expression unironically makes me want to crawl into a hole. Although people still use that expression in the South, it’s not nearly as common as it was in our grandparents’ generation.
“That sounds lovely,” Gloria says, smiling. “Please, take a seat in the dressing suite and I’ll bring some of this year’s most sought after dresses.”
“Do you have any couture?” Lacy asks.
“Of course.” Gloria frowns as she walks away.
The dressing area is a dizzying labyrinth of mirrors, reflecting my image from every conceivable angle. Lacy takes a seat on a fuchsia crushed-velvet Chesterfield sofa. I’m too wound up to sit. I pace instead, waiting for the saleswoman to return.
“I don’t know why you’re still not excited,” Lacy says. “Your wedding will be just as beautiful as mine. I’ll make sure of it.”
“If I loved him, it would be different.”
“But you don’t, so focus on the positive instead.”
“And what would that be?”
“Money. Once you’re married, you’ll have access to his accounts. You’ll be able to go shopping for everything you’ve ever wanted. Fashion week in Paris. Private showings with the most exclusive designers in the world.”
“That’s not anything I care about.”
“You will. Once you get a taste for it, you’ll love it. Trust me on this.”
Fighting her is pointless. I still have absolutely no intention of going through with this wedding, but I haven’t figured a way out yet. Hopefully Vapor will come up with something. I haven’t stopped thinking about those kisses in the garden. Even now, my entire body heats as I flash back to those stolen moments together.
“Earth to Blue,” Lacy says, waving her hand in front of my eyes.
“Sorry. What?” I blink, trying to stay present.
“I’ve chosen ten dresses to start. If you don’t like any of them, I’ll bring more.”
“Let’s see.” Lacy leaves the sofa to study the rolling rack of dresses Gloria brought in. “No. No. No. Oh, maybe?” She holds a slim-fitting blinding white mermaid dress up. “What do you think, Blue? Too much poof?”
“Way too much.” The organza at the bottom overpowers the rest of the dress, dragging my eyes down until it’s all I can see.
“What about this one? You should try it on.” Lacy carries a huge dress with a super ruffled tiered skirt and a long train into the fitting room. It seems to move on its own, as if it’s looking for a bride to consume.
“I don’t like it.”
“Just try it on for me. Please?” Lacy pleads.
“Fine.”
Gloria enters the changing room behind me. It’s big enough for ten people, and although I don’t even want to put on the dress, I’m glad she’s here. There’s no way I could begin to put this on by myself. It’s a massive sea of fabric, nothing like I’ve seen before.
After trussing me up and clipping the back, Gloria smiles. “Shall we show your sister? If you don’t like it, we can take it off right now.”
“I hate it, but she’s going to kill me if I don’t at least show her.”
Gloria gives me a sympathetic look before ushering me out of the room.
I step onto the raised dais and scowl at my reflection. The lights above are unforgiving, casting stark, unflattering shadows that amplify my unease. Each mirror multiplies my discomfort, showing me the dress from perspectives I hadn’t even considered.
As I turn slowly, the fabric rustles, whispering portents about a life I don’t want. The dress clings and billows in all the right places, but I fail to see its beauty. Instead, I see my own reluctant face repeated endlessly, each reflection a silent reminder of the decision I’m supposed to embrace. The walls close in, a mirrored prison capturing my every doubt and fear.
“I love it,” Lacy declares.
“It does look beautiful on you,” Gloria adds.
“Can we try one of the others?” I ask.
“Of course.”
“We’ll rank the top three,” Lacy says. “Try two more. I like the ones I hung on the end.”
“Fine.” I attempt to pick up the dress so I won’t trip over it, but it’s impossible. Even with Gloria holding up the train, this thing’s a death trap. I can’t imagine what would happen if I got too close to an open flame.
After trying on the other dresses, it’s clear that Lacy’s not going to let me leave until I choose one. I’m trying to decide when I spot a gorgeous dress across the shop.
“Oh!” I’m drawn to it like a firefly to a fountain.
“What? Which one do you like?” Lacy demands.
“That one.”
“An interesting choice,” Gloria says neutrally.
The romantic blush dress makes my heart beat faster. The bustier top, fashioned from intricate embroidered lace, is truly a marvel. The heart-shaped neckline is accentuated by a glistening organza lining that imparts a celestial quality.
To show off an hourglass figure, the waist is pulled tight before flowing into a stunning skirt. A a long slit up one side displays the mannequin’s leg from her foot to her upper thigh. It’s subtle in that my leg would only show when I’m walking down the aisle. When standing still, the fabric would fold over to conceal my skin.
To perfect the fairytale appearance, the gown is elegantly complemented by a matching cathedral veil adorned with lace accents. I’m instantly in love.
“Can I try this one?” I whisper.
“This is very popular with young brides,” Gloria says, going to a nearby rack to get the dress.
“How young?” Lacy asks before adding, “My sister’s almost twenty-one. In fact, she’s getting married on her birthday.”
“How exciting,” Gloria says. I doubt she cares, but she’s a good saleswoman who knows how to play along.
As soon as we’re in the changing room, I get rid of the dress I’m wearing and slide into the most beautiful gown I’ve ever seen. It looks even better on.
When I glide out to show Lacy, she frowns and shakes her head. “Daddy would have a conniption.”
“It’s not his wedding.” I run my hands over the delicate fabric, loving the way it slides under my fingers.
“And it’s pink.”
“It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”
“Trust me, you will thank me when you get the photos back and your dress is white. Pink won’t show up as well.”
“I don’t care.”
Instead of arguing, I realize something. I don’t want to wear this dress to my wedding with Broussard. Instead, I want to save it until I’m ready to marry a man I truly love. Wasting this gown on the wrong man would be tragic.
“You know, you’re right,” I tell Lacy. “Let’s go with the last one.”
“See, I knew you’d come to your senses.” Lacy smiles triumphantly.
“We need to put it back on for alterations,” Gloria says. “What’s the wedding date?”
“August thirty-first.”
“Oh, dear. That’s coming up so soon.”
“But you can do it, right?” Lacy demands.
“We’d have to charge a rush fee, and you can’t miss any fittings,” Gloria warns.
“She won’t. I’ll make sure of it.”
I’m starting to wonder if Lacy thinks she’s my warden. My life is one big prison, so why wouldn’t I have an overseer? It actually makes sense in a dark and twisted way.
As Gloria pins and marks the dress, I glare at my reflection. The dress is a mermaid lace V-neck gown with long sleeves and far too much beading. Pearls are sewn into the plunging neckline to draw attention to it. It’s ostentatious and revolting, which is probably why Lacy adores it.
When everything has been pinned and tucked to Lacy’s satisfaction, I’m finally able to take the dress off. Hopefully it’s the last time I’ll ever have to wear it.
“Our father’s paying for it,” Lacy tells Gloria.
“He already made the arrangements,” Gloria assures us. “Now, shall we find bridesmaid dresses?”
“Finally. The fun part!” Lacy rushes off to another part of the store where bridesmaid dresses in every color of the rainbow hang on endless racks. “Since you really wanted pink, we’ll do that for the bridesmaids. Pink is perfectly acceptable.”
“If you say so.”
“Have you thought about who your other bridesmaids will be? I’m the maid-of-honor, of course.”
“Naturally.”
“Who else have you invited?”
“No one.”
“What? Why not?”
“I’m not really close to any of the other women I know. Besides, you’ll be there and that’s all I need.”
“As flattered as I am, you need bridesmaids. How many groomsmen does Justin have?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ask him. Then we can find the correct number of bridesmaids for you. The sides need to be equal.” Lacy holds up a bubblegum-pink satin halter top dress. “What about this one?”
“If you like it, then we’ll get it.”
“Don’t you think it’s pretty?” she asks.
“I won’t be the one wearing it, so it doesn’t matter to me.” I shrug.
“Well, I love it, so we’ll take it.”
Sitting in silence, I watch Gloria nip and tuck the dress until Lacy’s satisfied with her reflection.
On the long ride home, Lacy chatters about plans for my wedding. She doesn’t stop to ask for my thoughts on anything because she must realize I don’t care.
When we arrive at my house, Lacy follows me in. We find our father sitting at his desk in the study.
Lacy wraps her arms around him. “Daddy, wait until you see her wedding dress! It’s perfection!”
“I’m relieved you found something,” Father says, sliding his gaze to me. “Are you happy with it?”
“It’s pretty,” I say because I know it’s what they expect me to do. Over the last twenty years, I’ve figured out what they want, and I’ve conformed to it. There’s no point in starting a fight.
In fact, the more I think about things, the more I wonder if I should pretend that I’ve changed my mind and that I’m excited for the wedding. If they believe me, then they’ll be less suspicious of my motives leading up to the wedding. I might need their trust if I’m going to escape before Broussard slides the ring on my finger.
“I’m sorry I’ve been dragging my feet about everything. I’m just nervous.” I press my hand to my belly for emphasis.
“Of course you are,” Lacy says sympathetically. “Getting married is a huge step in life. We’re so lucky that Daddy found us good husbands.”
“I only want what’s best for you,” he says, smiling at Lacy.
“We know,” she says, grinning back. “I’m so happy with Xavier. And… I’m late.”
“Have you taken a test yet?” Dad asks, hopeful.
“I will tomorrow. I’ve been waiting for enough time to pass to make sure I get accurate results.”
“That’s my girl. Xavier and I will be thrilled to welcome a new child into the family.” Dad beams.
“I hope it’s positive,” I say with as much enthusiasm as I can muster.
“You’ll be the second to know,” Lacy declares. She doesn’t need to tell me that Father will be the first. It’s funny to think that Xavier will be the last to know.
“Ladies, Justin is coming to talk with me about some urgent business. You’ll have to excuse me. He’s arriving soon and I want to be ready.”
“Of course, Daddy.” Lacy kisses his cheek. “I should be getting home anyway. Today was positively exhausting.”
“That’s for sure,” I say in agreement.
“I’ll pick you up on Thursday at noon for our next meeting with the wedding planner,” Lacy says as we head downstairs.
“What’s this one for again?” I ask, rubbing my temples to try to stave off a tension headache.
“Flowers, silly. Good thing you have me, or nothing would get done.” Lacy hugs me lightly before leaving.
I don’t want to be around when Broussard arrives, so I hurry upstairs to my room. Once I’m safely inside, I peel back the heavy curtain to look outside. Broussard’s sleek black town car pulls up to our circular driveway. One of our servants goes out to park his car.
Broussard tilts his head up and looks right at me. Startled, I drop the curtain, backing away from the window.
Lacy and my father think today was a resounding success, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Little do they know, I have no intention of walking down the aisle with Broussard.
However, I do want to find out why Broussard’s here. If it has anything to do with Vapor and the girls he rescued, then I want to find out what they know.
Vapor said he was careful and that they couldn’t possibly trace the rescue efforts back to his club, but he doesn’t know my father the way I do. Father has eyes and ears everywhere. Nothing happens in New Orleans without him knowing about it. If he discovered who was behind the rescue, then Vapor could be in trouble.
If Father and Broussard know Vapor was involved, then I must warn him before it’s too late.