"What the hell?" I rub the back of my neck. "You are no help, at all."
"God helps those who helps themselves."
I slow blink. "Right, then," I roll my shoulders, "guess the only thing that's going to help me get through the night is drinking heavily."
54
Karina
"How do I look?" I glance at my reflection in the mirror. The simply-cut dress has a high lace neck, the pattern continuing down my arms to end just above my wrists. The front dips in a sweetheart neckline, only to cinch in at the waist, before flowing down to my feet. It's understated and elegant. Demure and sexy. While it's clearly a wedding gown, it's tasteful enough that I could wear it to a party. Not that I have any intention of doing so. I am getting married only once. At least, I have to believe that. He will come for me. He has to, right?
"Well?" I meet Isla's gaze in the mirror. "Why are you so quiet?"
"You look," she shakes her head, "you look—"
I twist my fingers in front of me. "Say it, already. It's all wrong, isn't it? Maybe I should have chosen another color?"
"You look incredible."
"Oh." I swallow, then stare at my flushed face in the mirror. Why the hell am I so nervous? "You sure?"
"If he doesn't lose his composure and sweep you off your feet when he sees you, I swear, I'll throttle him myself."
I laugh. "Join the queue. He can be such a stubborn dickhead, you know?" I draw in a breath. "That's assuming he shows up today."
"Of course, he will."
"I wish I could be that confident," I mutter.
"Since when have you, Ms. Self-assurance, herself, turned this doubtful?"
"Since..." Mr. Arpad f'ing Beauchamp came into my life. It's weird to think that, before him, I was ready to live life on my own terms, to have a child by myself, to think I didn't need anything or anyone else to complete me. Until I really got to know him. Does that make me any less independent? No.
Does it mean I am giving up all of my notions of making it on my own? No.
Does it mean I become less because I want him, want to lean on him? No.
For the first time in my life, I want someone to take care of me... I want to be with him, want him to be mine, want to have his child. My cheeks heat. Jesus, I've never felt like this about anyone else.
Is that why I’m here? Wearing a wedding gown, headed to City Hall, to get married, confident—or rather, not at all confident, right now—that he'll turn up. And if he doesn't? Well, then I’ll know that he never did want me the way I want a man to want me. The way I want Arpad alphahole to want me. OMFG, I am doing my head in right now.
I squeeze my eyes shut. There's a touch on my shoulder, "You okay, doll?" Isla asks.
Yeah.
I’d called up my father and told him that I was marrying Arpad. Surprisingly, he’d told me I didn’t have to do it. That they wouldn’t cajole me into getting married again. But knowing my father… It’s only a matter of time before he thrusts another man of his choosing at me.
I’d told him this is my decision, that I am going through with it. I’d invited him down to City Hall for the wedding, and though he’d disconnected the phone without confirming, I hope that he’ll be there, along with my brother.
Everything is set. Now I just have to go through with this.
I blow out a breath, then turn to her and paste a smile on my face. "Let's do this."
Half an hour later, our car pulls up in front of City Hall. Sinclair and Summer loaned me their car and chauffeur, for which I am grateful. Not to mention, Isla has pulled through, as always, orchestrating this wedding and the reception afterwards for me, in double quick time. Yeah, she is getting really good at it. What the hell is she going to do now that five of the Seven will be married? Hopefully.
I see the short flight of steps leading up to the imposing neo-classical façade of the building.
Isla turns to me, "I need to go ahead and see to the arrangements but Peter," she gestures to our driver, "he'll help you out." She gets out of the car.
