The thought of trying to shop for my wedding night made me want to throw up, but I forced myself to make plans for my security to escort me downtown two days before the wedding anyway. I need something to wear. Something that might make him look at me with something other than cold disdain. Something that might make him… gentle.
In the meantime, I tried to distract myself in between calls from Meredith with questions about the wedding that I truly don’t remember my answers to. I have no idea what I picked for the catering menu or the cake flavor, no idea what color the flowers will be, or what my bouquet will consist of.
Now, there’s nothing but to go into the boutique in front of me, a pretty, upscale lingerie shop that looks to be all pink and baby blue velvet inside, with gold accents and gauzy curtains in the front window framing female mannequins draped in silk and ribbon and lace.
It’s almost empty, which I’m grateful for. A pretty, waifish blonde approaches me as I walk in, and I see “Cassidy” on her name tag.
“Can I help you?” she asks brightly, and I feel my face flush tomato red. She smiles at me, seeing my reaction. “Not used to shopping for intimates?”
“You could say that,” I croak, wondering if I can still simply flee. But I feel rooted to the spot, entirely unable to either leave or avoid making a fool of myself in front of this helpful woman.
“Well, let’s start simple.” She motions for me to follow her to the side of the store, far away from the other singular customer shopping for lingerie on a Thursday afternoon before lunchtime. “What’s the occasion?”
“My—” I swallow hard, trying not to sound like a strangled frog. “My wedding night,” I manage, and her eyes widen.
“Congratulations!” Her gaze flicks to my left hand, and I fight the urge to hide it. There’s no ring on my finger, and I can’t help but think that she’s going to think I’m lying, which makes me feel even more awkward.
“It’s getting sized.” I blurt out the lie, and she nods.
“Oh, I hope it’s ready in time. Well, did you have some idea of what you might want?”
I swallow again, shaking my head. “I really don’t,” I admit. “Something not too… over the top? But still… sexy?” The last word sticks on my tongue. I’ve never thought about being sexy. I know what the act entails, but I don’t know anything about seduction or turning a man on. In all the Gothic and historical romances I like to read, the men tend to simply… take. Which, inhindsight, I suppose might have prepared me quite well for my current situation.
I definitely don’t have any idea of how to make Sean more amenable to this whole situation, though.
“I can give you some suggestions, if you like—” Cassidy begins, then giggles when I nod instantly. “Perfect. Why don’t I take you to this dressing room, get you a glass of champagne, and I’ll bring you some options?”
I relax slightly once I’m ensconced in the pink and white dressing room, a glass of alcohol firmly in my hand. I’ve rarely ever drunk, except for a glass of wine at meals now and then, but I down the drink in a few sips, desperate for something to make me feel more at ease.
Cassidy comes in a few minutes later with an armful of options—delicate lace and silk in whites and creams and pale pinks. "This would be lovely on you," she says, holding up a white silk nightgown edged in fragile eyelash lace. It's beautiful—delicate and feminine, with a plunging neckline and a hem that would barely reach mid-thigh. "Very bridal."
I take a deep breath and take it out of her hand. A few minutes later, I’m facing my reflection, trying to come to terms with what I’m wearing.
In the mirror, wearing the white lace, I barely recognize myself. I look older. Sophisticated. Pretty, even, though my face is too pale and my eyes too shadowed from sleepless nights.
Would Sean think I was pretty? Would he care?
I don't know why it matters. Why I want him to find me attractive when he's made it clear he doesn't want this marriage. But some desperate, foolish part of me thinks that if he's attracted to me, maybe he'll be kinder. Maybe the wedding night won't be as terrifying as I'm imagining.
I try on a few more of the items Cassidy brought in, holding others up in front of me to try to see how they look. We’ll haveto have sex more than once, based on Sean’s insistence to Father McCleary that he’s been ordered to get me pregnant—a thought that frightens me so much that the champagne nearly comes back up. Should I get more than just wedding night lingerie?
I’m in the dressing room for so long going back and forth that Cassidy eventually comes back to check on me, her voice a little worried. I finally settle on the white nightgown and a delicate silk robe that goes over it, along with a pale pink set that's less bridal but makes me feel slightly less exposed, with a longer hem and higher neckline. Cassidy rings me up, and for the first time in my life, I make a purchase on my own with the credit card that Connor left for me after dinner. I don’t know if it’s attached to my own family accounts or Sean’s or some other account belonging to the Irish Council, but I suppose it doesn’t really matter, aside from the embarrassment I feel at the thought of one of those old men looking at a line item for my lingerie.
When I leave the boutique with my discreet shopping bag a few minutes later, I’m so focused on getting back to the car waiting for me at the curb that I’m not looking. I take two steps and collide with someone on the sidewalk—a broad chest that smells like cedar and nearly bruises my nose from how hard I bang into it.
"Sorry, I—" The words die in my throat.
I take one step back and see Sean standing in front of me, his green eyes sharp and assessing. He's wearing his usual jeans and a leather jacket, looking dark and dangerous against the backdrop of the elegant shops. His gaze drops to my shopping bag, and I can’t read his expression.
"Shopping," he observes flatly.
"Yes." I clutch the bag tighter, hoping that he has no idea what’s inside. It’s a matte pale pink bag with no logo—not that I would expect him to recognize a lingerie shop’s branding. "I needed... things."
"Things." His tone is unreadable. His eyes meet mine, and for the first time, I see something other than cold anger in them. There’s something else, something I don’t recognize, but it looks dark and hot… and frightens me. A cold shiver runs down my spine at the same time that the strange feeling I get around him slithers through me again, making me feel slightly unsteady.
Then it's gone, and he's stepping around me. "I'll see you at the wedding."
He walks away, and I stand frozen on the sidewalk, my face burning and my heart racing. Did he know what was in the bag? Did he care?
