“Momma, please,” Mom says, smiling into the mirror. “Don’t make Mindy laugh in the dress. She’s barely got room to breathe as it is. I can see why you skipped breakfast.”
Anxiety is twisting my stomach tighter. I want to say something, but instead, I just turn away from the mirror and put on my high heels. Mom need not worry about me laughing. I haven’t been able to so much as crack a smile since I woke up this morning from a fitful hour of sleep. Since last night, my emotions have been running rampant. The hot, angry sex with Oliver last night was amazing. I came deeper and harder than I could have ever imagined. If just a few things would have been different, I’d be smiling and joking just as much as my family is.
But now I know that for Oliver, it meant nothing. He was repaying a debt, and the sex was just his little way to put his own twist on the whole thing. The kind words, the cuddles, the laughter. All of it was just him getting into his role. He never loved me. Hell, last night, he probably fucked me so hard because he wanted it to hurt, to show me just how angry he was.
This whole thing is one big fucking fraud. And Oliver’s right—I’m just a liar.
“Are you okay?” Mom asks me, seeing the tears that are threatening to fall from my eyes.
I flash her a weak smile, forcing at least my lips to turn upward some. “Yeah. Just nervous, Mom.”
“Oh, baby,” she says, giving me a hug. “I understand. I was so nervous yesterday. And the day that your father and I got married, I was so worked up I got sick. But there’s nothing to be nervous about. This is your special day. Be happy. Rejoice in it. All of your family is here to see you except for Grandpa Johnny.”
“But he’s watching from heaven,” Grandma says. “You can be sure of it.”
Their words are supposed to make me feel better. I know that, but they only succeed in making me feel worse. Grandpa was old school, one of those men who always talked straight. He never told a lie that I knew of, even when it might have saved him a lot of pain. He never would have done what I’ve done, and if he’s looking down on me, he’s not proud of me.
“Thank you both,” I reply, forcing the words out. “I’m so glad you’re both here to see my special day.”
I try to make conviction ring true in my words, but they sound false even to me. Still, they chalk it up to my pre-wedding jitters and come over, giving me a kiss.
“We’re both so proud of you!” Mom says, patting me on the cheek.
I do my best not to break down into tears as they leave the room to find their seats in the chapel hall, and I take a minute to try and compose myself before I leave. Outside in the hallway, I see Roxy waiting for me. She’s my maid of honor, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a maid of honor so giddy that she’s hopping from side to side like a boxer getting ready for a fight.
“Girl, you look so beautiful,” Roxy says with a smile. She’s wearing the same gown from yesterday because it compliments my gown just right. She’s added a few flowers in her hair, weaving them into the curls the hairdresser did. She’s a vision.
“Thank you. You look gorgeous too,” I reply, trying to just keep myself from breaking down. My sister is more beautiful than she’s ever looked in her entire life . . . and it’s for a lie. How is she supposed to ever believe in love after this?
“What’s wrong, bae? You don’t look happy like you should be,” Roxy says, stopping her bouncing and stepping close, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Are you feeling all right?”
I flash another weak smile. By the time the day is over, my cheeks are gonna be sore from flashing fake smiles all the time. Each one feels like I’m lifting a half ton with hooks driven through my cheeks. I’m exhausted already, and I’ve got hours of this to still look forward to.
“Just nervous,” I tell her. “You know how it is.”
“Yeah, right. Honey, if I had a man like Oliver, I’d be like let's get this shit over with and bring on the consummation!” She giggles.
I fidget with my gown. Even Roxy’s normal humor isn’t enough to get a laugh out of me, and Roxy notices. She takes my other shoulder, squaring up and looking me in the eyes. “I know. Every wedding is a performance. And if I know anything, I know how it is to be nervous before performing. And I know you’re doing this as much for Mom, Grandma, and me as for you. So thank you. It will be okay though. I don’t say it enough, but you kick ass.”
“Thanks,” I say, though I feel dead inside. Kick ass? I can’t even man up about a fake wedding. I don’t kick ass. I suck it. “It really means a lot to me that you’re here.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for all the world,” Roxy says before stopping. “Oh, wait!”
“What?” I ask, and Roxy smiles, rooting around in the cups of her gown for something before pulling out a small packet. “What’s that?”
“An old button, a blue Tic-tac, and a penny I borrowed from Aunt Rita. All wrapped in a new handkerchief,” Roxy says, tucking it inside the left cup of my gown. “There, all the bases covered. Time to do your damn thing.”
We walk to the back of the chapel, waiting for my moment. We’re doing it a little different than Mom’s yesterday, and Oliver’s going to meet me by the altar. I’m the only one getting the big entrance, the total star of the show. It makes me want to puke, and as I hear the warmup music and then the minister’s opening remarks, I’m nearly shitting bricks.
“It’s time,” Roxy says softly as The Wedding March starts. “Ready?”
Ready? No chance in hell. My anxiety is through the roof, my heart is hammering in my chest like a Dubstep concert, and I feel like I’m sweating this damn gown through. I’m far from ready. But I have no choice. “Let’s go.”
The doors open, and for a moment, I feel stalled. Dread is a force field, keeping me from taking the first step through the doorway. I feel myself start to lean back, ready to run, but Roxy gives me a gentle push and we walk into the room.
As the sound system plays, we begin our slow walk down the aisle. The room is filled with almost as much family as yesterday. Familiar faces are all around, cousins and family friends. All those damn eyes staring at me above wide smiles. Fraud! they seem to scream. I tear my eyes away from them, staring straight ahead. My legs feel weak, and I’m glad Roxy’s walking me down. I think I’d stumble otherwise.
Even in my frazzled state, I see how beautiful the place is. They even put more decorations up than Mom had and changed the theme. Instead of being a sort of airy elegance, it’s almost totally over the top. There’s finery everywhere, gilt-edged curtains and bunting all around the hall. There are flowers all over. I don’t even want to know just how many flower shops John emptied out on this. They even redid the altar, making it sparkle and shine even more than before.
It’s a wedding chapel worthy of a Disney movie. It’s a room that a real Princess would walk down the aisle in. Except it’s not fucking real.
I blink to clear my vision, and my breath catches in my throat when I see Oliver. He’s waiting up ahead at the altar. Standing by himself except for the priest, he’s the perfect groom. He’s wearing a tailed waistcoat, his hair slicked and styled just right, his hands in front of him respectfully. Every inch of him screams poise and strength, and he’s fucking gorgeous. But my heart does a weird twist, and with each step, the blackness that’s threatened to overwhelm me all day grows.
I should’ve known someone like him was too good to be true. I should’ve known that getting involved too deeply would end in heartbreak.
I should have . . . and now it’s too late.
By the time we reach the altar, I’m a mess. My breathing is ragged and I’m trying to do my best to control my arms from shaking. Roxy even has to help me up the first step before she lets go and peels off to take her seat.
Oliver’s eyes are on mine, but they are carefully neutral, his emotions hidden behind a mask. I can't read what he’s thinking.