Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
And so it begins.
The lying, the deceit, the stories.
No one has coached me on what I’m supposed to say. It would be nice to sync up my version of events with Emmett’s so we don’t sound like fools. Hell, for all I know, he’s being totally forthcoming with the truth. Collette might already know the engagement is a sham.
I open my mouth to answer her, but the words get lodged in my throat.
Her expression softens, and she holds out her hands as if trying to calm a wild animal. “Listen, I for one think it totally works. He’s always been a little dark and mysterious, and you have that misunderstood side to you too. At first, I was shocked, but now I get it. Of course, I want all the details…when you’re ready to share them. Like what is he like behind closed doors? I don’t think I’ve ever had a proper conversation with the guy.”
I force a laugh.
“It’s…unexpected,” I say, deciding the best course of action for now is to keep it vague.
“Well if you’re happy, I’m happy. And naturally I’ll be there tonight.”
I smile and nod then set my purse behind the counter.
“Good. Now put me to work.”
I distract myself at Morgan’s until half past 4 o’clock, at which point my grandmother and Margaret insist I need to get home so I can start getting ready for the party. The house is no less crowded when I walk into the foyer. If anything, the madness has only ratcheted up tenfold. Fortunately for me, Margaret has directed my hair and makeup team up to my room so I miss most of the last-minute frenzy.
I sit at my vanity, letting the professionals work. They sense I’m in a quiet mood and don’t press me for small talk. I’m immensely grateful because my nerves have set in. Even resting on my lap, my hands still shake. I try to clench my fists to disguise it, but I worry everyone still notices.
When I’m done with makeup and they’re putting the finishing touches on my hair, Margaret knocks and enters. “Here, dear. It’s lavender honey tea with a little something to take the edge off.”
When I take a sip, it’s so delicious I hardly taste the vodka.
She winks and steps back to sit down on my bed. While they untwist my hair from the curlers, she smiles approvingly but says nothing else. I love that about her—her ability to offer silent support. Just her presence is a comfort.
“Your dress is stunning. Do you like it?”
It’s a white silk draped gown that will hug my figure and dip low in the back, a classic style that would look good on anyone. There’s nothing not to like.
I smile and nod, knowing Margaret had a hand in selecting it for me.
“It’s lovely. Thank you. Help me put it on?”
The others pack up their things—the makeup palettes and brushes and hair pins and hair spray—and then they vacate the room so it’s just Margaret and me as I slip into the gown and stand in front of the mirror. She zips it up then drops her hands to my shoulders.
“Look at you. I can’t imagine a more beautiful bride.”
I hate that tears spring to my eyes.
She squeezes my shoulders and then moves away, giving me a moment to gather myself before reaching for my shoes.
By the time I make my grand entrance, the party is in full swing, just like my grandmother intended. It’s a real princess moment as I walk down the steps and smile for everyone. An official event photographer snaps photos of me from the bottom of the stairs, and I make sure to smile and appear as happy as a real bride-to-be.
My grandmother waits for me as I descend, and I’m grateful to have her at my side as she parades me through the party, ensuring I greet everyone, from current acquaintances to people I haven’t seen in years. The crowd skews slightly older, which doesn’t surprise me. This party is as much for her as it is for me.
I’ve lost count of how many people I’ve shaken hands with, smiled at, pretended for when there’s a sudden commotion in the front foyer.
Jacobs appears in the tall arched opening of the living room holding a piece of stationery.
There’s no need for him to collect everybody’s attention. The gasps coming from the entryway have done his job for him.
Still, he clears his throat and offers me a kind smile before reading aloud.
“Your soon-to-be father-in-law is heartbroken that he couldn’t make it for tonight’s celebration, but he wanted to send his well wishes to the happy couple and formally welcome Elaine into the Mercier family.”
At this, he steps back to allow a perfectly synchronized line of men dressed in black suits to waltz into the living room carrying artfully arranged bouquets of flowers. Their arms are each bent at precisely the same angle. Their steps are perfectly timed. Each one carries a bouquet filled with different flowers: garden roses, peonies, orchids, proteas, ranunculus, lilies, tulips, gardenias, hydrangeas…