I don’t even know where he’s been all day.
The clingy material of the dress hugs every curve I have. The high waist complements my slim figure and large breasts. I turn slightly so I can see my ass in the mirror.
“You’re a beautiful bride, Angel.”
“Thank you.” I choke up, a ball of emotions caught in my throat.
I wait as Belle adds the final touches to my appearance. She pins a barrette decorated with fresh white roses in my hair and then attaches the gold choker around my neck. Finally, I slip into the silver four-inch heels. With a last look at myself, I reach for the remains of my fourth margarita.
“Be right back,” Belle says, and rushes from the bedroom.
If she doesn’t get back soon, I’m going to wear a hole in the carpet. I breathe a sigh of relief when she returns with a lovely bouquet of white roses, violets, and baby’s breath, held together by colorful ribbons.
“I hope you approve?” she asks, as she reaches in the closet and takes a pink dress off a hanger.
“Of the flowers or your dress?”
She chuckles as she strips out of her jeans and blouse. I’ve never seen Belle in a dress. She’s a jeans-and-boots kind of girl. But once the silky garment is on her, I can’t help admiring her. She’s covered in tats, the most prominent on her left arm—PROPERTY OF TONSILS AND THE IRON NORSEMEN. Thorny vines snake around her shoulder and down her arm, all the way to her fingers. The occasional blossom, done in yellow and green, breaks up the bold black of her ink. Thor’s hammer covers her belly,NORWEGIAN-BORNin fancy script crowns the pagan symbol.
“Am I pretty in pink?” she asks, stepping in front of the mirror.
“Sure are.” Belle could wear anything and look beautiful to me. “I haven’t officially asked you to be my matron of honor yet.”
She turns around. “No need to. I know what you want, baby girl.”
We leave the bedroom together after she puts her sandals on, and wait in the hallway as the violin rendition of the wedding march starts.
