“I know you’re a model and all, but seriously, you are absolute perfection.” Tori spins me around so she can fiddle with my veil from the front.She and Emzee are in fabulous dresses of nude and dusty rose; my only requirement for the bridesmaids was that they wear warm neutrals.
“Thank you,” I say, feeling unexpectedly emotional.
My inner well is full. Despite everything, there’s joy in there, and it’s surreal that I have Tori and Emzee here to fuss over me, just like real sisters would. I’ve been complacent and quiet, letting them primp and fix and fluff to their hearts’ content. They’re genuinely happy to see Luka getting married—something I can’t quite wrap my head around, considering this is all a sham. Maybe they’re hoping this will really turn into something and Luka will finally have a little family of his own to love. Maybe…he’ll finally have that intimate connection with someone in the way he never did when he was growing up. I know that I want those things for him.
But can I really be that person?
“We’re just so lucky to have you!” Emzee grins and gives me a tentative hug, careful not to muss my dress. I squeeze her back. She was the one who had my garter custom-made with a tiny blue bow stitched to it, to make sure I’d have my “something blue” for the wedding.
“Remember, you guys promised not to say anything that would make me cry,” I say. “Five-hundred-dollar makeup over here.” I point to my face, trying to keep things lighthearted.
My mom just left the room a few minutes ago to take her seat. Meanwhile my dad is waiting outside to walk me down the aisle, and I’ve been reminding myself over and over not to cry the moment I see him. This wedding isn’t real. It’snot. I have to remember that, or I’ll never get through it dry-eyed.
“I wonder if Luka’s as nervous as I am,” I say.
“I’m sure he is,” Tori says. “But you shouldn’t be. It’s going to go by so fast you won’t have time to feel nervous. Trust me. My wedding was a total blur.”
Despite Tori’s kind words, I doubt my fake fiancé is feeling much of anything. There’s no way he’s as caught up in the excitement of the day as I am.
My impending nuptials aren’t the only reason I’m anxious, though. When Emzee and Tori whisked me away from the rehearsal dinner last night, I didn’t get a chance to tell Luka what was on my mind—the Elite contract. To avoid the lingering guilt, I turn my thoughts to imagining him standing there waiting at the other end of the aisle. He’s already breathtaking, and I’m eagerly anticipating the sight of him decked to the nines in all his wedding glory.
“I bet he looks amazing,” I say with a sigh. “Have either of you seen him in his tux?”
“Sure,” Emzee says with one of her signature eye-rolls. “And he looks just as plain and unattractive as ever.”
I can’t help laughing, even as Tori tsks her sister-in-law.
They both comes close to stand next to me, and the three of us look into the mirror. “He looks great,” Tori says. “And I’ve honestly never seen him so excited.”
Excited?
Luka’s family has taken this sham wedding in stride and elevated their acceptance of it by actually embracing it as if it’s real. Planning everything has definitely had its perks and moments of excitement for me, even though I’ve kept the end game forefront in my mind. Luka hadn’t seemed excited over any of it. He’d simply gone through the motions, letting me handle the decisions. But he’d been different at the rehearsal dinner last night, enjoying himself like a true groom might.
“Are you sure?” I ask. “Maybe he’s just trying to talk himself out of backing out.”
“He’s not going to back out!” Emzee gives my bare shoulder a little squeeze and I cover her hand with mine. We share a smile in the mirror and then she slips out of the room for a moment, then comes back to crack the door and wave at me.
Beside me, Tori’s shoulders bunch around her ears with excitement. “It’s time! Ready?”
She hands me my bouquet, a custom creation I chose made of huge blush-colored peonies, exotic succulents, and fragrant hydrangeas. I can only nod.
Suddenly, I’m whisked out of the dressing room and into the hall of the nineteenth century mansion we rented for the ceremony and the reception. My one ask in regard to the venue was that we be married someplace that had “history,” and our wedding planner hadn’t disappointed. The Esmoor Estate rarely allows weddings as large as ours, but they had been happy to make an exception for the Zorics, of course, and the wedding planner spared no expense or detail in creating the ultimate fairy tale out of the place.
Above my head, sparkling chandeliers hang between drapes of sheer fabric. The polished marble of the hallway floor is dusted with pale pink rose petals. The hem of my dress swishes against them as I take my father’s arm.
“My little girl’s all grown up,” he chokes out. He lowers my veil and wipes his eyes and I have to look away so I don’t start to cry, too.
Then he leads me to the yawning ballroom where the ceiling above us is hung with arrangements of rose branches, lush ferns, and creamy wisteria in abundant groupings intermixed with garlands of crystal drops hanging delicately between the blooms. An ivory runner lines the walk between rows of chairs. The soft prelude music flutters to silence as everyone rises.
I grip my father’s arm tightly as we pause at the end of the aisle. Tori and Emzee are standing beside the pastor, lined up beside Mateo, my “maid of honor,” in his dashing pale pink Dolce & Gabbana suit. I’d told him that beige was fine, but he’d wanted to go all out.
And then I spy Luka on the other side, just as I imagined, waiting for me beneath the elegant arch covered in greenery and tiny fairy lights. My chest hitches, my mind suddenly whirling. I force myself to focus on the music. The wedding march will start any second—
Suddenly, there’s a musical beat, then another…then another, and I immediately recognize the song. My dad looks at me with surprise that probably mirrors my own, and I can’t hold back a shocked gasp. Billy Joel’sShe’s Got A Waybegins to softly play in all its musical glory.
I can’t believe Luka remembered!
I look at him and wish he was closer so I could fully see his expression. I’d once mentioned to him that this song had been a favorite of mine and my dad’s, kind of “our song” since we danced to it at my middle school winter festival dance. Luka had seemed a bit shocked when I told him but wouldn’t explain why, until I finally got it out of him that the song was special to him, too. A housekeeper had taught him to slow dance to it so he could impress a girl in fifth grade. It was something we shared that unified us with the people who’d helped us grow.
