Chapter 7 - Nora
A sharp knock at my door startles me from my half-asleep haze. I blink, still curled under the crisp hotel sheets, my brain struggling to catch up. Sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room.
It's probably room service again, I drag my feet as I shuffle toward the door, cracking it open just enough to peek out. Sure enough, it's a room service cart. But in addition to the food tray with the dome lid, is an elegant white box wrapped with a deep emerald ribbon.
Interesting .
I pull the cart into the room and close the door behind me. I pick up the box, and take it over to the bed, setting it down. I hesitate before carefully untying the ribbon, letting it slither away. I lift the lid—and my breath catches.
Emerald green fabric, deep and rich.
The fabric is impossibly soft beneath my fingertips. And as I pull it out of the box, an elegant dress flows down. The kind of dress that belongs in the pages of a magazine, on a woman far more glamorous than me. My heart pounds in my chest. There is only one person who could have sent this. Sayid.
I swallow as I pull the dress out of the box and lay it carefully on the bed. I admire the intricate details of the gown. Why would he send this to me? What does this mean?
I run my fingers over the fabric again. It is far too exquisite for me. I can't wear something like this. I turn back and see the note taped to the inside lid of the box.
You deserve everything this world has to offer. Let me show you your true worth.
I set the note down on the dress, stepping away as if distance could stop the weight of what this means. This is too much. Overwhelming. He is too powerful, too intense, too everything compared to me.
And yet …I press my lips together. A man like him doesn’t do things without purpose. He sent this to me—for me. But, why me?
I glance towards the closet where my original dress hangs neatly. Simple, understated. Safe. What happens if I wear his dress? Will anyone else know? I don't want to draw any more attention, especially from Tyson.
But what if I don't wear his dress? I can't deny what I felt when I was with Sayid last night. His mere presence engulfs me. It's intoxicating and exhilarating. He looks at me as if he truly understands who I really am.
I move to lift the lid off my breakfast. It's the same as yesterday. Of course it was him.
Somehow I feel as if he has been doing much more all along. But why me? He could easily have any woman he wanted.
I inhale deeply, setting my resolve. I need more answers from him. I will wear my dress to the ceremony. But tonight, when the reception begins…I place my fingers on the card, tracing his elegant script. Tonight, I will wear his .
∞∞∞
I wait awkwardly in the foyer of the church. Not sure who I want to sit by during the ceremony. I thrust my hands into the pockets of my dress. I am wearing the simple purple flowered dress I brought with me, but my mind is still fixating on the dress waiting for me back at the hotel.
I looked around some more while fidgeting with my braid. Soft music is starting to come from the sanctuary, and ushers are escorting people to their seats. Just as I am about to go sit somewhere random, by myself, a familiar smile catches my eye. Liam’s father, Gary, spots me from across the foyer, and is making his way towards me. Tyson trailing behind him.
His genuine smile spread all the way to his eyes, wrinkled with age. He embraced me into a warm hug, he is like a second father to me, and I felt comfort in the moment. And just like he could tell exactly what I needed, he held out his arm for me to take. “Nora, be a dear and escort me to our seats.” I quickly link my arm to his.
“Tyson, wait here for your Mother, and you can escort her,” Gary calls over his shoulder to Tyson, and leads me away without another word. Gary is so much like Liam, and I am very grateful to him.
As we approach one of the front rows reserved for family, Gary motions for me to take a seat with him. I scoot in a few seats, and he sits right next to me. “You know, a long time ago I would have thought you would be the one marrying Liam. But now I see you are both right where you are meant to be,” he says as he squeezes my hand gently.
“You have always been a part of this family. Like the daughter Beth and I never had. I am not sure exactly what has passed between you and Tyson, but it was hard not to observe the hurt in your eyes during the game yesterday.” I had forgotten that Gary and Beth were watching our basketball game.
“You don’t have to tell me anything. I know how different Tyson is from the rest of us. If you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.” His offer hit deep, and I can feel the heat from my emotions rising to my face.
I squeeze his hand back, whispering a thankful appreciation just as Beth and Tyson approach our row. “Oh Nora, I am so happy you are sitting with us,” Beth gushes as she sits next to Gary, and pulls Tyson down to sit next to her on her other side.
A few more moments pass before the music changes, and the wedding party starts to walk down the aisle. Liam is joined up front by Zahir, and three groomsmen. Eliza’s bridal party includes her maid of honor, and five additional bridesmaids. And after the flower girls, and ring bearer have their turns walking down the aisle, we all stand and watch as Eliza is escorted by her father down the aisle to Liam.
Liam’s emotions are already spilling out of him by the time she reaches him. I feel genuine happiness for the both of them as their obvious love for each other is displayed during the entire ceremony. I can’t help but wonder if I will ever experience the same kind of true love and connection.
∞∞∞
I check my reflection in the glass of the elevator wall one last time while descending. I switched my hair from the braid I wore to the ceremony to a classic bun for the reception. I added a bit more eye liner, but left the rest of my face more natural. My green eyes are practically glowing in this dress.
His dress—fits me like a glove. I have never worn anything like it ever before. The texture is so buttery soft against my skin. I am self conscious on a good day, but now it's made worse by the fact that I had no choice, but to not wear a bra with this backless design.
The thin spaghetti straps are the only things holding this dress onto my body. I can see just the top of my cleavage, thankful the front doesn’t plummet like the back does. My barely C cups are hidden enough. The length of the dress rests right at my ankles. Probably hitting up on the calf on most other women, especially if they wore heels.
I just couldn’t make myself doubly uncomfortable with both no bra, and heels. Far too much for me to endure right now. I settled with a pair of gold sandals that tied up around my ankle. They went perfectly with the simple gold, dangle, earrings I was wearing. I didn’t even bother with a clutch, leaving my phone and wallet behind in the room.
The elevator chimed, and the doors opened. This is it. I can do this. I walk, with as much grace as I can muster, into the grand ballroom. It is absolutely extravagant. Dimly lit golden chandeliers light the entire room. Everything is positioned around the spacious dance floor in the center of the room.
At one end is the long table for the wedding party, and at the opposite end is the extensive bar. Shelves lined with the finest liquors. The other two longer sides of the dance floor are lined with round tables for guests to sit at. I can’t help searching for Sayid as the other guests are being led to their tables.
I wasn’t sure who he would be sitting with since the VIP section was technically the wedding party’s table in this venue. And since Zahir is part of the wedding party, I’m guessing he didn’t exactly know anyone else he would be comfortable joining. I still didn’t spot him before being sat at my own table.
Having pre-selected my beverage and food choices, I am thankful my cocktail is waiting for me at the table. Already sitting there are two of Liam’s former classmates from our home town, and their wives who also went to school with us. Looked like they didn’t get very far from home.
At least their greetings are friendly. We are quickly joined by another couple Liam went to college with, the woman looks like she is in her third trimester of pregnancy. And the last spot at our table is taken by a guy named Clay, who also went to our high school. I am thankful for the fact that Clay is very openly gay, and no one else at the table was about to try and match us together.
I finish the last bit of my first drink as our first course is being served. A server quickly brings me a replacement. I take my time with this one and it lasts throughout the other two courses. So far this dinner, and mini reunion, is going much better than I anticipated. I finish my second drink just in time for the champagne being served before the toasts begin.
When Zahir clinks his glass to get everyone’s attention, I take the moment to turn a bit more. It is then—out the corner of my eye—that I see him sitting directly across the dance floor behind me. A new comfort courses through me finally knowing where he is.
I don’t turn enough to make eye contact with him, but I can feel the heat of his gaze on me now. Sayid is sitting at a table with both Liam’s and Eliza’s parents. There is an empty seat at their table and I am sure it was meant for Tyson. I look over to the bar, and there he is—staring right at me.
I roll my eyes and turn my attention back towards Zahir. We go through the formalities and the motions with each toast given. Then we watch as Liam and Eliza share their first dance. It’s sweet, tender, and filled with love just like their ceremony.
As their dance finishes, more upbeat music starts to play, and others stand and join them on the dance floor. Most of the guests have left their tables and are now either dancing, or watching bordering off the dance floor. I finish my glass of champagne, and feel enough of the liquid courage to join them—watching that is.
The song shifts into something much slower, and I am suddenly aware of a warm presence behind me. “Dance with me.” It is not a request, but a gentle command. And I would not refuse him. I turn to see his hand open, waiting for mine. I look up into his intense eyes, and place my hand in his without a spoken reply.
Our connection sends a jolt throughout my body. He guides me onto the dance floor in one fluid motion. I admire his perfectly tailored suit, a deep navy. And as he spins me to face him, I see his emerald pocket square in his jacket. Perfectly matching the color of my dress, instantly connecting us together in a deeper way than just this dance.
He draws me closer to him, keeping my hand in his, while his other hand settles firmly on my lower back. Fingers pressing into the fabric, and I can’t help but feel the power of his precise control. It doesn’t feel unwelcome in the slightest. It feels—needed.
My free hand moves to his upper back, and I feel the depth of his rigid muscles. Damn. He is as hard as steel. I am familiar with the more formal posture he is holding me in. I start to count the beat, and he effortlessly leads us into a Waltz. I take in his unmistakable scent. It’s sharp, not overpowering, but absolutely intoxicating.
At this moment, I am nowhere else, but in his arms. And then, his head lowers nearer to mine, his breath warm against my ear .
“ You are absolutely stunning.”
He says it in a way that leaves me with no hesitation . I swallow, overwhelmed with his intensity.
“The moment you walked into this room, everything else became background noise. The music, the people, the petty whispers–they mean nothing.” His fingers press slightly further into my back—more possessive. “It is only you.”
My breath catches. The way he speaks, the way he looks at me—it is as if I was, something sacred to him. “Do you not see what I see?” He tilts his head, his thumb brushing ever so slightly against my side. “You outshine every woman in this room without even trying. Any man would be lucky to have you—but they don’t deserve you.”
I would usually try to deny any sort of compliment that is given to me. But his words—they are not flattery. I can feel the weight of them, and the truth behind it. To him, they are facts.