“It’s controlling, Mila. I specifically told him I want to buy my own dress.”
“So, shall we leave and head to Goodwill, then?”
I scowl at my friend. “I don’t want to rely on the Sullivans for anything. You know our history.”
“Trust me, I get that. But also, Ronan is literally offering you the opportunity to buy the wedding dress of your dreams.”
“Maybe we should just buy the most hideous dress we can find to spite him.”
“Or you can take this opportunity and just go for it. I mean, maybe you can keep it and reuse it if things fall apartbetween the two of you.” Mila nudges me with her elbow. “Come on, Ciara. I know you and Ronan have a complicated history, but this is a great chance to have fun, stick it to him, and get something amazing out of it.”
“But—”
“Butnothing. Look, you committed to this, so you’re going to have to find a way to tolerate him. Otherwise, the next fifty years of your life are going to be miserable. Just… try.”
I roll my eyes as I take another sip of my champagne. “Fine.”
But the truth is I have absolutely no intention of being married to Ronan for anywhere near that long. Our marriage will last just long enough for Ronan to receive the justice he deserves.
Two hoursand eight dresses later, I’m no closer to finding the one. That is, until Mila appears holding up an off-white, almost pearlescent silk dress with a lace overlay. The neckline dips in a way that’s daring but not vulgar, and the back is completely open aside from the few delicate buttons trailing down the lower spine.
It’s perfect, and from the way Mila’s eyes sparkle as she grins at me, she knows it too.
“Try it.”
“I hate you,” I mutter as I take the dress, knowing without even trying it on that it will fit me like a glove.
“You’re welcome.”
In the fitting room, I get undressed yet again and toss my clothes into the corner before stepping into the dress.
The material slides over my skin, and as expected, fits me perfectly.
The moment I finish zipping up the side, I look up and glimpse my reflection in the mirror, and my breath catches in my throat.
I look like a bride, and a thrill courses through me. Then I frown and shake my head. “No, Ciara. You are not allowed to be excited about this.”
“Ciara? Do you need help?” Mila calls from the other side of the curtain.
Ignoring the butterflies swirling in my stomach, I peel back the curtain and step out into the dressing room.
“Oh, my god! Ciara, you look like a princess!”
I run my hands over the dress as my cheeks flood with color. “Do you think so?”
She nods. “This is it. This is the one. Youhaveto get it.”
I glance at myself in the mirror again, and my throat thickens.
Getting married should be the happiest day of my life. I used to dream about my da walking me down the aisle, tears in his eyes as he gives me away to the man I love while he simultaneously threatens him not to break my heart.
Joke’s on me, I guess. My wedding day is here, and not only is my father dead, I don’t even like the man I’m marrying.
Da should be here so I could live my dream. Instead, he’s buried six feet under, and I’m left to pick up the pieces by marrying a man who played a part in destroying my family.
Mila must notice a shift in me as she appears by my side and places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “You okay?”
“No. But I will be.”
