They’re not listening. They don’t see me at all, only here to carry out whatever instructions Philip has clearly given them. “I can’t- take it off—,”
I can’t breathe. My hands reach up to wrestle with the veil, trying to pull it off. My words grow louder, more pleading, as I tangle with the material.
Take it off.
Take it off.
Take it off.
There’s a tearing sound as blissful, cool air fills my lungs. My body folds, but I can’t even bend over in this gown.
Horrified murmurs burst around me, and I glance down. Dread curdles my stomach at the large tear in the veil. “I didn’t mean – I couldn’t breathe.”
I still can’t.
Silence. The quiet curse from the seamstress echoes my own thoughts. “Mrs Fitzherbert will not be happy about this.”
It almost sounds like a warning.
Sighing, I glance at myself in the mirror again. “No, she won’t.”
***
“I understand there was an issue at the fitting.”
My father studies me as I push the chicken around my plate. I can feel his disapproval from the other end of the long table. “You’ll need to call to apologize.”
“I already have.” Doreen Fitzherbert isnothappy with me. But the guilt I feel is genuine. “It was an accident. The seamstress is repairing it.”
As if it never happened.
“Good.”
I set my fork down. “I know you want me to be comfortable, Papa. But does it matter to you if I’m happy?”
My father doesn’t respond for a moment. “Happiness is subjective, Briar. Safety, and security – that is what truly matters. I struggle to see how anyone can find happiness without it. If someone does not feel safe, how can they possibly be happy? Philip is offering both of those things. Happiness will follow.”
I consider his words as he continues eating. My father is referring to materialistic things. That’s how he views it – as he has always viewed it. The house around me has always mattered more in his mind than what was inside it.
Not everyone sees safety in the same way.
His last sentence echoes in my head.
If someone does not feel safe, how can they possibly be happy?
I glance at the clock. It’s still early evening.
And it’s Wednesday.
My lips tilt up at the edges. I have an invitation this evening. From a small, possibly psychotic but rather sweet bartender who might get me horrifically drunk.
Maybe I haven’t heard from Jenson.
But that doesn’t have to stop me visiting Mystic.
Jenson
“Good takings tonight.” River slips into the empty seat beside me. I’ve commandeered a table close to the ring. All the better to glare disapprovingly at Kai. “It’s busy.”
