Staring at the piles of lace and chiffon confections thrown across the couch and dressing room racks, Lauren shrugged and shook her head. Whatever foolish dreams she'd had as a little girl about her dream wedding bore no resemblance whatsoever to the nightmare in which she was currently entangled. There was no frame of reference that she could even access. "This one... seems nice," she finally offered, touching the silk bodice and missing the look of pity in her wedding planner's eyes.
Twenty days became fifteen, then ten. Macie kept calling for lunch, a drink after rehearsal, and a couple of texts that simply read, "What the fuck is up with you, girl?" Lauren excused her pale face and the growing dark circles under her eyes as "Not feeling well, some kind of bug," and explaining she was heading home to sleep. Then five days, and she obediently returned to the bridal salon for her final fitting. The seamstress clucked her tongue disapprovingly.
"You didn't need to lose weight, dear! Why must you girls starve yourself before the wedding? The dress fit perfectly! I'll need to do some alterations..." Lauren was confused about the woman's disapproval until she looked in the mirror. She'd always been proud of her strong body, lean muscles earned from Lacrosse and running. Her ribs were showing through her skin, and it wasn't particularly attractive. Jessica walked behind her, looking at Lauren's reflection over her shoulder. The girl refused to look at her. She hated pity. She hated seeing it in the redhead's eyes.
Clearing her throat, the planner returned to her iPad, tapping in some notes. "I'll have some high-protein, high-calorie drinks delivered to your flat," she said calmly, "many of my brides get too excited or anxious to eat. Let's see if we can get you better-nourished before the big day, all right?" Waiting until Lauren forced herself to nod, Jessica continued in a light tone, chattering about the details they needed to attend to in the next couple of days.
By the time Lauren dragged herself home, she couldn't think of anything but a glass of cheap wine and a hot bath.God,she thought,I really hope there's hot water. Please, Mother Mary and all the Saints, let there be hot water.So consumed with her dream of soaking in a tub and maybe slipping down until the water went over her head and drowned her, Lauren didn't see her angry friend sitting on the stairs in front of her flat until she nearly tripped over her.
"Well, what the hell do we have here?" Macie was pissed, and she wasn't shy about showing it. "It's my best fucking friend. You know, the one where we had slumber parties and talked about our hopes and dreams and shit? And the one who's getting married and never fucking told me?"
Lauren rubbed her throbbing forehead. "What?"
Macie held up a newspaper accusingly, and it took Lauren a moment to realize it was a copy ofThe Times,open to the wedding announcements page. Taking it from her friend, she read it slowly.
Forthcoming Marriages:
Mr. T.W. Williams and Miss L.M. Marsh
The engagement is announced between Thomas, son of the late James and Diana Williams of London, and Lauren, daughter of Frank and the late Aurelia Marsh of New York City.
"Congratulations," Macie said sarcastically, "they usually don't do wedding announcements for anyone but celebrities and royalty. Like, fucking Benedict Cumberbatch announced his nuptials here. You're so upper crust."
Lauren sat down next to her furious friend on the stairs. "Maze... It's not what you think..."
She couldn't even look at Macie, knowing there were tears in her warm brown eyes and not wanting to feel even lower than she did already.
"Girl, are you kidding me right now? You're fucking engaged to someone I don't even know and you've only been here like two months and you're getting married and- shit! I've never heard of him?" Yep, there were tears because Macie angrily brushed them away. "Who ARE you? What the hell happened to my best girlfriend Lauren? You really were never going to tell me you were gettingmarried?Are you shitting me?"
Macie leaned in to look at Lauren's face, staring at the worn riser. "You're not even going to tell me what's going on here?"
If she gets hurt, it will be because of me.It was all Lauren could think of, and she forced herself to concentrate.
"You... He's a friend of my father's, his company bought Frank's company and we met up here-"
"I know who he is, idiot! You were meeting him that day after our coffee date! What I don't know is how he went from a potential gig to your fiancé!"
Fury rose up in Lauren, usually the nice girl, usually the one who worked to make everyone feel at ease. "Goddamnit Macie! Back the fuck off! You really don't think I have enough shit right now that-"
Fuck,she thought bitterly,shut up, you idiot!
Macie's fury melted into concern. "What's going on? This isn't you. You look sick, honey, and I've never seen you like-"
"Look, Macie, I'm just really stressed over the wedding, okay? And it's really small, and it's just like... my Dad's friends and Thomas's and it's not really-"
She didn't have to see her friend's face to see the hurt there. "You were never going to tell me. Holy shit. You were going to get married and act like nothing ever happened like you didn't have a husband and a whole other life." Macie drew in a shuddering breath. "Are you ashamed of me?"
Lauren's soul curled like it had been set on fire. Macie was always acutely miserable because of her background, from a mother who was more interested in her career and a non-existent father. "No! Jesus, honey, no! Not at all! I can't-" the blonde drew in a shuddering breath. "You took care of me when my dad threw me out. You've always been there for me. But I am begging you to listen to me!" Turning, she grabbed Macie's hands, squeezing them. "Please trust me. There is a reason-" she groaned, what could she possibly say?
"What?" snapped Macie, "then what the hell is the reason?" Her eyes narrowed when her friend's teary-eyed violet ones met hers. "You're not going to give me one, are you?" Pulling her hands away, she stood up and dropped the paper on the stairs. "Well, okay. Congratulations, and all that shit. See you later."
Listening to her only friend here in London furiously clomp down the stairs and slam the door shut, Lauren started crying again. Somehow, this was even worse than the realization that there was nothing she could do to escape Thomas's horrific "proposal."
And then, just to make things as depressing as humanly possible, the invitation came from Arabella Kingston and Clara something - another vice president's fiancée? - to a Hen's Night. Staring at the invitation, Lauren chuckled mirthlessly. Of course. Who else was going to celebrate her upcoming hell, aside from other Corporation wives? Did they know what their men did for a living? So, as the moving men sent from Thomas relentlessly packed up the meager belongings of her flat, Lauren sat down to email the women back, politely thanking them for their invitation.
"Have a drink, honey! It's your last night as a free woman!" Clara missed the actual cringe Lauren gave as she raised her glass of champagne, but Number One's wife did not. The three drank a toast, and Lauren carefully smiled as she refused to let the other girl stick a tiara on her head that read: "Fuck me! I'm the Bride!" when Clara trotted off to the loo, Arabella eyed the hollow-eyed blonde keenly.
"I should have been here for you sooner. I'm sorry."
