Go ed, girl. Love you x
It’s happening. I’m going to go tell Carys that I love her.
I’m ready.
Except, it’s exactly that moment I realise I’m still in my towelling robe. ‘Fuck, what do I wear?’
Warren appears from the bedroom holding my dress. ‘It’s a wedding day after all. May as well show up looking the part.’
Chapter Thirty-SixCarys
Transcript of a video from Reality TV content creator @missgoss
Possible breaking news, Blissfuls. I just got wind that one of the final five couples cancelled their wedding venue. Do we have an elopement, a breakup, or a secret third thing on the cards?
I hated sleeping alone so much I made my sisters come share my king-size bed with me. It’s not like it’s the last night I’ll spend in a bed on my own – Patrick and I are going to have to do long distance for a while yet.
If I say yes.
I wake up when the birds sing. Out in the countryside, the dawn chorus actually happens at dawn, rather than at night when there’s less traffic like in the city. But, with the lull of sleep nipping at my heels and the exhaustion of the last few weeks deep in my bones, I fall back asleep, nestled between my sisters.
We wake to a knock at the door as the hair and makeup team arrive to get us prepped. They seem pretty narked that we’re not showered yet, so I jump in while my sisters wash in their own room.
Our wedding ceremony starts at midday, so I have a while to eat a croissant and neck an espresso brought up by roomservice. The coffee is so strong I could stand a spoon in it, and it burns through my veins.
Probably not the best choice because I become deeply aware of the possibility I might need to fart, as the makeup lady does my brows.
My sisters come back in just as the hairdresser begins styling my long hair into soft waterfalling curls.
‘Can we put some music on? Let’s get in the mood,’ Ang says.
‘I did make a playlist for the occasion,’ says Del.
Ang sighs, and sits down on the end of the bed. ‘I am not listening to “2 Become 1” by the Spice Girls on repeat for three hours, no matter how much effort you put into adding it a million times.’
‘Spoilsport. Caz, do you have something you want to listen to? Bride gets to be DJ.’
I pick up my phone to open my music app, and see a text from Bridget.
‘Carys?’ Ang asks.
‘What?’ I startle, knocking the hairdresser so that the hot curling iron burns the back of my ear. ‘Ow fuck. Sorry! Oh shitting hell.’
The nice hairdresser gets a cool flannel and presses it against my ear.
‘Why were you staring at your phone like that?’ asks Del quietly.
I thrust the phone into her hand. ‘Can you read it out for me? I can’t handle it.’
Del clears her throat. ‘?“Hi Carys. Deal’s off. I won’t speak a word. Go marry Patrick. Sorry for being such a cunt. Kiss kiss.” Well, it’s two xs but you know what I mean.’
‘What was she being a cunt about?’ Ang asks.
The biggest panic attack of my life crashes through my bodylike a wave. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe and I am about to claw out of my skin.
The hairdresser sensibly leaps out of the way and turns off the hot instruments at the wall. I hear Del usher her out the room for a break.
‘Carys? It’s okay, Carys,’ Ang whispers as she kneels in front of me.
