But she decided that might only frighten him more.
It was a decision she would never forgive herself for … and the regret began with a new dress …
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Can I Squeeze Your Butt?
IRINA
Ismoothed down the fabric of the brand new, totally-not-my-usual-style dress as I waited out the front of my apartment building for my ride. I tried to tell myself it was the cool morning that had me shivering, as I wrapped my cardigan tighter around my shoulders. But I knew, deep down, that it was nerves.
Thank fuck Kat was so preoccupied with freaking out over Sir Daddy Dom to notice how off the planet I’d been the last few days. Still, I’d avoided her as much as possible, afraid that she would somehow rat out my plans for the Easter weekend. Plans she needed to not know about for her own good.
I’d gotten home late Thursday night, after she’d already gone to bed. I’d been out at Bondi Eastmeadow, trying on dress after dress, searching for one that felt right.
I’d settled on a white sundress with a pretty, floral pattern in yellows and greens. Nothing about this ‘wedding’ was traditional, but for some reason, I felt like I needed to wear white, even if it was tempered with a pattern.
I’m getting married today …
This morning, I’d woken early and snuck into the bathroom whileKat was making the most of her Good Friday with a sleep-in. I’d washed my hair, had tried to use my straightener to wave it, then decided I really shouldn’t have attempted that without Kat’s help to do the back parts, so I’d redone the entire thing until it fell straight and glossy down my back.
I’d slipped my feet into a pair of Kat’s sandals that I’d borrowed from her wardrobe without her knowledge. The dress was new, and around my wrist I wore a tarnished silver bangle—one of the only things I had of my mother’s, kept in a box with the few things I’d brought from home with me. Things that I wanted to remember about Romania. Things that I couldn’t ever let myself forget …
My bra-and-panty set was a pale, eggshell blue.
I was well and trulynebunescwith all this superstitious nonsense. But I really needed this marriage to work, to fool the authorities long enough for me to make myself permanently safe from my past.
And maybe a tiny little part of me was excited to be marrying Henry. I mean, he was adorable. And hot. And so much fun to tease. And clever … And he was doing me a massive favour by offering to marry me.
Holy shit. I’m getting married today!
Were my armpits sweating?La dracu, did I forget to put on deodorant? I surreptitiously sniffed at my armpits as a bulked-up guy in a puffer jacket and an Eastern Sydney Cockerels cap walked past, fists stuffed in his jacket. He did a double-take, his eyes locked on my nose in my pit.
“What’re you looking at,gaoaza? Never seen anyone check their BO before?” I snarked. The man frowned, heading further along the street before plonking himself down on the bus stop bench.
His eyes remained on me like two little prickling points of heat, even from a distance. I tugged my phone out of my bag to check my Tickle notifications, hoping I had an ETA on the car Henry was sending for me. I sighed. Nothing new.
And the jerk in the football team baseball cap was still staring at me. I glanced out of the corner of my eye, not wanting him to know that I knew he was watching me.
La naiba, was he photographing me? He had his phone out andpointed in my direction. Fuck, maybe he’d recognised me from Tickle. And here I was, standing outside my apartment building, which was big and ugly and wouldn’t be all that hard for anyone with half a brain and Google maps to determine my location.
Ru_Snack_XXXplores: Where is this driver of yours?
Ru_Snack_XXXplores: There’s some creeper taking photographs of me in my wedding dress …
M_Jay: I’m tracking his location. He should be there any second.
M_Jay: He’s around the corner, thirty seconds tops.
I glanced up, turning my head into the breeze—in the creeper’s direction. I hoped it looked like I was just trying to get my hair to blow out of my face, but I needed to know what he was up to.
Shit. He had his phone to his ear, and he was back on his feet. His eyes found mine, and he muttered something into the phone, walking purposefully back towards me.
Fuck. What if he wasn’t some Tickle weirdo? What if he was an undercover cop, who was about to arrest me?
My heart slammed against my ribcage. Frozen to the spot with indecision, I could do nothing but watch as he strode ever closer. If I ran, wouldn’t that just make me look guilty? But if I didn’t run, and he caught me …
I was screwed no matter what.
