Chapter Ninety-Two
‘Nervous?’
Niamh eyes me through the mirror as the stylist makes a last minute adjustment to my hair.
I smile back at her reflection. ‘I thought I would be, but... no.’ Apart from the fact that I defy anyone to feel anything but blissful after a day of pampering at a five-star spa, I just feel, well, blissful. ‘I feel pretty bloody awesome, actually.’
Paula, the hairstylist eyes me sceptically through the mirror, before her gaze slides to Niamh’s. ‘Valium?’ Niamh shakes her head. ‘Xanax?’
‘Don’t look at me. If she’s had stuff, she hasn’t gotten it from me,’ she replies, plumping the cleavage almost hidden in the cowl neck of her gold gown. She looks gorgeous; tan and dappled with freckles, her auburn locks swept elegantly to one side of her head.
‘Well, you’ve got to be the most chilled out bride I’ve ever seen.’
‘That’s because I’m marrying my prince!’
Paula mouths, ‘Cute’, while laughing, and Niamh mimes vomit-inducing fingers.
‘Ah, go away. You’ll make us all puke!’
‘You’d better not puke anywhere near this dress.’ And that’s my cue for the three of us to take a moment to appreciate the perfection of my gown: Lace, handmade, figure-hugging with a gentle flare as it draws to the floor—didn’t want to tempt fate there—a small train and long sleeves to counteract my bare collar-bones, and scattered with hundreds of tiny seed-pearls.Well, Kai does like me covered in pearls...
‘You look beaut, darl,’ says Geoff from behind us.
The parentals have descended on the suite; mine, and Kai’s mum, that is. Still no Faris. I’m guessing his is a silent protest.I’m pleased Mishael has tagged along, as it seems to help Mum hang onto her sense of decorum. She doesn’t shedtoomany tears, and she doesn’t touch my hair and dress more than she can help it, though she clutches Geoff’s arm an awful lot.
Before long, it’s time to leave.
‘By the time you come back into the room, you’ll be Mrs. Khalfan,’ says Mum, all teary eyed. There’s no point telling her I already am; she wouldn’t understand. ‘My baby, a married woman.’
‘Ah, don’t worry, Mrs. S, she’ll still be the same daft stumbling, bumbling Kate.’
Yes, because my life is a series of graceless moments.
We must make a bit of a sight, the group of us all dolled up. Mum seems to have been shopping because the navy evening dress she wears isn’t what she’d planned to wear in Aus. Mishael looks gorgeous, as usual, and has opted for another gown of plum. Even Geoff seems to have splashed some cash, ‘cos I don’t think you can hire a tux of that quality anywhere in the world.
Phillippemeets us at the ground floor; his assistant handing me my bouquet of ivory roses. These, at least I chose. He directs us around the corner to a door; a nearby silver plaque declaring itThe Courtyard.To my dismay, Faris stands just inside the door. Fuck a duck. My heart contracts at the sight of him standing there as cool as all get out. I almost stumble; my palm catching the wall.
‘Steady on, Katie.’ Geoff grasps my elbow, while Mum tells me I should’ve chosen more sensible shoes.
Faris takes Mishael in his arms, grazing his lips against her cheek, causing my expression to twist. I can’t help it—can’t hide how it makes me feel. Why would such a lovely, genuine woman—a very beautiful and desirable woman—tie herself to such a man? A man who would take another wife and manipulate his only son. Like acid, the thoughts burn me from within, my cheeks heating with indignation... and turning instantly to shame. Wasn’t this the very reason I left Dubai? Mistaken or not, I left to protect myself from hurt, knowing if I stayed, I risked losing myself along with my heart.
I physically rouse myself from these thoughts as Mishael pulls away and facilitates introductions while Faris tries his damndest to not catch my eye.
The last time we met, Faris tried to buy me off, determined to break us apart, to decide who Kai married, and yet here I stand.Ironic, really.Every inch the model of propriety, he takes Mishael’s hand into the crook of his arm.
Phillippehands out instructions on who’s going when, and then the double doors open to the oncoming dusk, allowing the melodic notes of a string orchestra playing Pachelbel’s Canon in D major to drift in. Kai’s parents lead the procession, arm in arm, followed a beat later by my misty-eyed olds. Niamh gives me a quick thumbs up, and grabbing her own bouquet, makes her progress through the door.
‘Remember, my little koala bear, step-together-step-together.’ Phillippe’s directions come with a short two-step demo and complaints at our lack of a rehearsal. ‘Now, none of this galloping down the aisle to get to your man. I know it’ll be tempting. Especially when you clap eyes on that handsome devil at the end of this bit of shag-pile.’ With a suggestively raised brow, he shoots me a grin. ‘That man’s sexy and he knows it.’
LMFAO. Not. Just what I need to have playing in my head right now.
‘Ready, my little Australasian chicken?’
‘Wigglewigglewigglewiggle.’ I inhale, letting the breath out slowly. ‘Yeah.’
Cheesy music for the win.
Phillippe presses a finger to his ear, tapping an intercom fastened to his waistband. ‘Shanaz. We have a code red.’ He looks a little panic-stricken. ‘I repeat, a code red. Bring me the hipflask—she’s gone into shock.’
