It was white because I might not be a virgin but I was stilla good girl and I reckoned I’d earned white, one way or another.
The bodice was a V-neck that went low (I might be goingromantic for my Marcus but I was still Daisy, so if cleavage could be had, andI was a woman who could have a lot of it, it washad—anditwas).
The whole top was made of lace, but the part from thebuilt-in bustier over my shoulders, the lace was see-through.I had arhinestone belt that was thin and pretty and made my waist look teeny-tiny.Andthe skirt flowed down in huge, soft, angelic, slanted vertical gossamer ruffleswith a nice train at the back.
My wedding flowers (you could probably guess) were big creamgerbera daisies with little black buttons in the middle mixed with some creamroses, and subtle pretty pink velvet ribbons were bunched under the petals ofthe blooms so you could just catch a touch of their color.
I had the diamond earrings Marcus gave me the night Iofficially moved in with him in my ears.They looked like a passel of daises,so big they had to drop down in loop after loop.I also had the diamondbracelet on my wrist he gave me just because.
And of course, I had on the huge-ass diamond solitaire ringhe gave me when he asked me to marry him.
He’d gone ostentatious with the engagement ring.
My man knew me well.
I’d picked a fluffy, wide, lacy blue garter for my blue andit was already on my thigh.
The dress and shoes (platform pumps with peek-a-boo toescovered in lace, with lace crawling up the back of my heel, a lace rosette atthe toe with rhinestones in the middle, and high heels covered indiamanté—again, I wasDaisy) were my new.
I had a lacy handkerchief thatLaTeeshahad given me stuffed in my cleavage that had been her grandmother’s.That wasmy old.
And my borrowed I’d been in a panic about until I saw thepearly pink fingernail polish that Michelle brought and had shown me thatmorning.I’d loved it so I immediately replaced the one I’d picked because herswas way more perfect.
I was set.
Like I said.
Perfect.
“You can’t see her,” I heard Michelle say at the door.
“Honey, I’m walking her down to the restaurant,” Marcusreplied and I craned my neck to see down the hall in an effort to catch aglimpse of my man.
But Michelle had the door mostly closed, her rounded body inits pretty, pink bridesmaid dress wedged in the part that wasn’t.
“You’re meeting her at the door and walking herin,”Michelle returned.
“Will you just let me see my wife?”Marcus asked on a sigh.
His wife.
Oh my.
“She isn’t your wife yet and seeing her before the ceremonyis bad luck!Heck, walking hertothe ceremony is bad luck even if itstarts at the restaurant doors!I don’t know how I agreed to this.Like I toldyou two dozen times, you should let Doug give her away.”
Michelle was freaking out.
And she was super sweet, if right now acting a little crazy.I’d thought that (except the crazy part) since I’d first laid eyes on her(okay, maybe the crazy part too).
I shouldn’t have been surprised she’d be sweet.But sincethe day I met her months ago, I’d thought the same.
Partly because she took one look at me, burst into tears,and shouted, “You’re perfect!”
But mostly because she helped make my man all the man hewas.
And that man was a lot.
“We’ve had enough bad luck, every one of us,” Marcusgrowled, and I watched him push in the door, doing this looking down at hissister who had his hair, but she had warm brown eyes.“No god there is wouldgive a single one of us more.”
