Part I
1
Late September… Maeve’s wedding.
I HAVEN’T ALWAYS LIKEDmy reflection. Growing up, I felt so different. I suppose it wouldn’t have been a big deal if I had grown up in a large city, surrounded by diversity. But in the small fishing town where I came of age, my family and I definitely stood out.
Over the years, I’ve received countless compliments… beautiful, unique, stunning, exotic… Yet, there has always been a small part of me who wished I looked like everyone else.
I used to hate the smattering of freckles on my nose and cheeks, but now they remind me of my dad, as do the red highlights in my hair. He’s still with us, through me. I’ve worn my hair up; pretty curls frame my face and little white flowers hide the intricate twists of my locks. The hairdresser did an amazing job – it’s almost a shame to hide it all under my veil.
I draw a long breath, and study the curve of my body in my gown. As I study the dress; a sheer chiffon gown with delicate embroidery and a bustier top, it dawns on me that the dress I’ve chosen to wear on my wedding day is very similar to my prom dress – the prom from hell. My prom dress was a soft pink, and the skirt was a little shorter, but the styles and materials are very similar.
Well, hopefully this day will go better.
“God, you look gorgeous,” Corrie says. She doesn’t look too bad herself – the bridesmaid dress I picked out looks fantastic on her.
Marilyn toys with my hair again, pulls at the curls framing my face. I swat her hand away. “Enough.”
“What? It’s a big sister’s job to fuss,” she says with a smirk. “I love your hair curly.”
“I know you do.” Marilyn wears her crazy curls proudly, always has. I, on the other hand, struggle to tame them, as if I’m ashamed of them. I’m really not. I just love to wear my hair straight, just like I prefer my clothes pressed, my nails painted, and my shoes shiny. I’m a bit of a prissy gal, if truth be told.
“The stylist did an amazing job,” Mandy chimes in. “I like your hair up like that.”
I stare at our reflection in the vanity table mirror. Every time I look at her, I see her brother. She and Blake share those big almond shaped brown eyes; dark melted chocolate eyes. I can’t help but think about him today. I know he won’t be here, and if he dared to show up, I think I just might kill him. Mandy is here with her friend, Jessie, today. I know Jessie, but not too well.
Mandy fusses with my veil. “Tell Jessie the story of how Peter proposed again. I never get tired of hearing it.”
I smile. Mandy is such a small town girl – she loves my modern-day Cinderella story. I grin playfully. “Well, it goes like this…” I start. I know everyone has already heard it; my bridesmaids Corrie, Kayla and Gabbie, my three best friends. I’m lucky to be surrounded by my favorite six women in the whole world; my four best friends, my big sis, and my mom.
“He drove me, blindfolded, to a secret location…”
Mandy smiles mischievously. “A red silk scarf… veryFifty Shades.”
The room breaks into laughter. “The drive seemed to take forever, and I was so curious, begging him to tell me where we were going. Then finally, he pulled me out of the car, and had me standing in the cold. When he peeled off the scarf, I saw a fabulous private jet. Two pilots in white uniforms and pilot caps.”
Jessie’s mouth is hanging. “Wow. Where did you go?”
“Where else?” I say. “New York.”
“What did you do?” Jessie asks, riveted.
I feel like a princess. I feel special. Peter has always made me feel that way. “We did a little shopping, caught a few shows, ate at some nice restaurants, stayed at the Edison… and made love every night,” I add with a shy smile.
“So how did he ask?”
I smile at the memory of that beautiful autumn day – it was perfection. “We took a stroll in Central Park, and he pulled me over to a bench, shot me the most wicked smile, and got down on one knee.”
“Wow,” she says again. “I’m sure you were happy with the ring… that rock is the biggest I’ve ever seen.”
I gaze down at my hand. Yes, the ring is a little much, but that’s Peter for you. He always needs to go big. Everything is a grand production, but I kind of like that about him.
Jessie seems enthralled with my small-town-girl-makes-good story. “So, does Peter have a private jet?”
I laugh. “No, it was his boss’s. It was a favor.”
Mandy chuckles. “Nice boss.”
