I swallow, a lump forming in my throat. “What time are we getting married?”
He checks his watch. “In exactly four hours.”
Great...The blood drains to my feet. I grab a water bottle from the fridge, not caring if it's overpriced, and drink half in one go.
“I know how you feel.”
I look up at him, taking in his relaxed posture as he leans against the wall, and mumble, “I doubt that.”
“I’m serious. Do you think I was thinking about getting married any time soon?” He runs a hand over his jaw.
I shrug. “I don’t know. We don’t really hang out for me to know much about you.”
“Well, you will now.”
Heat rises to my cheeks. I look around. If he went to all this trouble, I can’t imagine what the wedding will look like. I walk to the cream fabric sofa, ready to relax and watch TV when there’s a knock on the door. “Are you expecting someone?” I ask. He's messing around on his phone.
“Yes,” he says, but doesn’t elaborate as he answers the door. My ears prick up when I hear female voices.
What is this? More wedding preparations? Hotel staff?
Who knows with Oliver. I smooth my clothes nervously.
“Oh, you must be Karley,” one of the two women who’ve walked in says like we’re old friends.
“Uh, yeah,” I reply, giving her a tight smile.
Who is she? I hope he’s not expecting her to be my bridesmaid. I would've told him to fly Evelyn out if I had known.
“We’re here to get you ready,” she says with a sympathetic smile. Obviously reading my confused expression.
“Get me ready?” I ask, trying to understand why he’s going to all this trouble for a fake marriage.
Oliver steps in front of me, placing his hands on my shoulders. “They’re here to help with your hair, makeup, and dress.”
I exhale. “I’ve never had my makeup professionally done before.”
“Well, enjoy. I’ll meet you downstairs.”
“Okay,” I say, a little shakily. “But where will you get ready?”
“I’ve planned to meet Cora.”
“Where is she staying?”
“She chose the Mandala Bay for her kids. It’s more family-friendly.”
His hands drop from my body, and I want to protest. His touch had been comforting in all this craziness. Then he strides to the door and leaves the penthouse suite. As soon as the door clicks shut, the women immediately start telling me what to do, including urging me to have an everything shower. They instruct me to exfoliate, shave, and moisturize.
This preparation seems like a lot for a wedding night that won’t exist. I know that they don’t know about our arrangement, so I just follow their instructions.
After I’ve prepared every part of my body and come out in a robe, the hair and makeup artists get to work. The makeup artist adds bronze shadows to make my eyes pop, and then finishes with a rosy lip stain to keep my request of a natural but polished look. Meanwhile, the hairstylist transforms my usual messy hair into a classy bun.
“Will he like it?” I ask before I can stop myself. Why should I care what Oliver thinks? This isn’t real. Yet I find myself anxious for his approval anyway.
When I turn to the mirror, I gasp, barely recognizing myself. I’m amazed at how pretty I look. It’s me, but flawless.
The makeup artist hands me a lacy baby blue lingerie set. They told me it was for the something blue aspect of getting married. Which is a sweet gesture, regardless of this being a fake marriage.