Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 105615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 422(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 422(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
The bitch.
Her outfit was a flowing kaftan that dipped way down in the front, showing the delicate gold harness she wore underneath it along with many gold necklaces. Huge slits showed off her shapely legs, and straps from her shoes climbed up her legs. Spike heeled Jimmy Choo sandals that she’d had custom made.
Custom made Jimmy Choo.
Something, before now, I could’ve only dreamed of.
Only now, I didn’t have to dream of it because I was wearing a pair of my very own. Not hot pink like Wren’s. White, like the rest of my outfit. The one that she’d convinced me to let her choose.
“You make your livelihood out of dressing up other people, and you are damn good at it,” she’d told me months ago when the idea of the party was first broached. “How about you let someone else take the reins for a change? I promise I’ll make you look even better than I do.”
I’d snorted at that, because such a thing was impossible. But, without sounding completely and totally vain, she’d done it.
White was my theme. First, the custom made Choos. I’d had my foot fucking measured. They were ‘Stella size’. That’s literally what it said where the size would normally me.
My. Fucking. Name.
And they were so me.
Delicate straps crisscrossing over my feet. A chain of crystals wrapping around my ankles. Heels high enough to give me another six inches, yet Somehow the most comfortable shoes I’d ever worn.
My wings were a masterpiece in their simplicity. They were made completely and only from white feathers. But the structure of them was so genius that they actually looked like they’d sprouted from my back and were a part of me. They even looked like they flapped ever so slightly in the wind.
My dress was Alexander McQueen. Also custom fucking made. I’d actually met Sara Burton. Died a little inside.
It was simple. Silk. Bias cut. Empire waist. Dipped way low in the chest, hugging my breasts perfectly before skimming over the rest of my body in a way that looked like it was liquid. The dress finished just at my ankles, in order to show off the sheer beauty of my shoes.
I’d had my hair curled into tiny little ringlets that sprung wildly around my face and fell to my bra strap. My makeup was light too. Shades of soft pink on my cheeks and lips, muted shadow on my eyes and false lashes that seemed to make my eyes look much larger.
I’d never felt more beautiful in my life. And I was not dressed up for any man, not trying to impress or seduce. It was me dressing up for me. It was my best friend giving me a gift that was completely and utterly selfless and something I’d treasure forever.
The three of us looked good. Better than good. Fucking great. We had the dark warrior fairy—Zoe. We had the golden, auburn queen—Yasmin. We had the bohemian, glamorous princess—Wren.
And me.
I didn’t know how to describe what I looked like. Maybe the vision of myself I’d wished to dress up as when I was six years old? A white fairy who didn’t have worries about illnesses creeping up, taking over her mind. A fairy who had the magic to fight off darkness, not invite it in.
Wren had, of course, arranged to have a professional photographer come before the party began to take photos of us.
“I need a badass queen photo for the great room,” she’d explained. “There’re too many old white guys in there.”
Needless to say, we’d done as we were told, and I was sure that the photos would be absolutely phenomenal and precious, capturing this moment in our lives.
“I’m so lucky to have you all,” I uttered, my voice rough.
Zoe and Yasmin put away their phones, giving me their full attention. Wren held her finger up. “This sounds like the start of a really cute and heartfelt speech that’s going to end in a toast, so I need ...” she leaned over and snagged three glasses from a passing waiter.
I happily took the martini, my favorite drink.
“Continue,” Wren advised.
I smiled at her. “I don’t know how I would’ve survived in this city, this industry, without you three,” I forced a smiled. “Seriously. I would not be standing right here, in these fucking fabulous shoes, with you fucking fabulous women if I didn’t have your support. I always dreamed of a man, of him making my life better, of love changing my life.” I looked around my circle. “And it has. Love has changed my life. As a little girl, I hadn’t realized that instead of wishing for my prince charming, I should’ve been wishing for you queens. Lucky I got you all anyway.”
A tear rolled down my check. Wren had been bawling since I started talking again, Yasmin wiped at her eye and even Zoe’s eyes were shimmering with emotion.