I let out a small laugh, nodding. "Alright. I'll try to keep that in mind," I said. Personally, I thought it was mean that everyone knew it but no one told her anything. Won’t she be offended when she realises no one has touched her food?
But I couldn’t talk. I was a horrible cook.
I rubbed my eyes, leaning back in my chair as the chef came out with the food and served it on the table. I grimaced. He noticed my face and sent me an apologetic look.
"I can make o-"
"It's fine, don't worry," I assured him trying, to put on a strong face. He had made all this food and I didn’t want him to make more. He nodded and left and Darius came in and I stared at my plate in shock.
Seafood.
If there was one thing I hated, it was seafood. Great. Just perfect.
I stared at my plate longer and pushed the edible pieces to the side, which happened to be the vegetables in the sauce. The smell of the fish and prawns was overpowering and I tried not to show that I was sick.
I looked up and saw Darius staring and quickly grabbed a spoonful and shoved it in my mouth chewing. As soon as he looked away, I grabbed the napkin and placed it near my mouth, spitting whatever it was out.
It probably tasted good but for as long as I knew, I disliked the taste of seafood. There was a bowl of bread rolls and I grabbed one, taking a bite out of it. At least this was edible.
Margaret came into the room and looked around to see how things were going and then saw my plate and her eyes widened.
"Oh, Ivory, Charles has come. Would you like to go now or in a while?"
"Now's fine," I said quickly before she finished and shot up, a bit too soon, and threw my roll into my plate. I sent a quick smile around the room and rushed out with Margaret hot on my tails.
The moment I was in my bedroom, I rushed to the bathroom and brushed my teeth again, trying not to vomit.
"Oh, I am so sorry. I completely forgot you don’t eat seafood."
"Its fine," I said with a mouthful of toothpaste, probably something my mother would kill me and have a heart attack for. So very unlady like, she would say, this is not how I raised you! Well, she never did raise me. My nanny did and she did a terrible job.
I walked back into my bedroom and froze, looking at the new dresses on the bed and silently groaning.
Let the trials begin.
If I thought dinner and lunch times were awkward, sharing a limousine ride with this man would probably be worse.
Seated opposite each other, both of us stared out the window, not even a word of conversation. Did my parents even know who they married me to?
I finally gave a cheer of happiness when I saw the place but it soon died out when I saw how many people were going in. A lot.
Most of them were more lavishly dressed than me with jewelry and some of the weirdest dresses I had ever seen. I, on the other hand, was in a simple deep blue ink dress that make my skin look bright and glowing, and it wasn’t from the anger inside.
Margaret had pinned my hair up into an elegant bun with braids and decorated pearl clips that held up my thick wavy black hair that even I couldn’t tame.
Seeing all the makeup the ladies had on, I was suddenly feeling under—made with only lipstick on.
The door opened and I struggled to get up elegantly and winced as I got out, pretty sure something stabbed my foot. Darius followed. Whoever invented dresses definitely didn’t try getting out of a limo in one. I looked around taking in the view as I followed him to the entry. As soon as we were in the crowd, I felt his arm on my back and I bit my lip to keep from telling him to take it off. So now he wanted to act like the perfect husband?
He placed a hand on my lower back and I reached behind to move it higher, trying not to giggle. He looked down at me, confused, his eyebrows knotting.
"I'm ticklish!" I said. He ignored me and moved his hand in that exact spot and I shook my head, right like he would care. I walked a tiny bit faster, trying to maintain distance so he wouldn’t have any excuse, but a camera flashed in my face, making me halt.
There were cameras?
"How does it feel being married at-"
There were more flashes and I felt myself being pushed through a crowd to get in and I really hoped I didn’t look like a goldfish. All I saw were black suits and flashes before finally I saw decorated lights and a ballroom.
I squinted, trying to get my eyes used to the natural bright light in here. This didn’t look like a normal ballroom. Instead, it looked like a kid’s birthday party, a ten-year–old’s, in fact. Maybe this was what people meant when they said Miss Alvin was an odd one in the bunch, but for me it reminded me of being a kid, and that made me smile.
Darius led me to our table and pulled my chair out. I sat down looking over my shoulder at the stairs where a lady was dressed in a massive gold dress with what I think were card symbols sewed all over her bottom half.
Quite a dress.