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“Like you have to try.”
She gives me an appreciative wink and raises a hand towards the saleswoman who, bless her soul, has spent the last three hours catering to Bee’s every whim, of which there have been many, ranging from champagne and strawberries to a tiny silk robe for her to wear between fittings.
“Lemme try the lace veil again, Tanya.” She weaves it onto the top of her head and turns to me. “Well?”
“Very pretty. Very traditional.”
“Ew. Just say you hate it, okay?” Bee pulls the veil off and hands it back to Tanya. “Give us a moment, Tan. I need a breather.”
After I’ve helped her out of the dress, she collapses onto the plush white sofa that faces the array of floor-length mirrors.
“Another glass of champagne?” I ask.
“Honestly, just give me the bottle.”
I hand her the bottle and she takes a big glug straight from it, then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and settles back again. “Being pregnant must suck.”
“Because I can’t drink champagne?” I ask, crossing my legs and leaning into the armchair.
“Well, that, obviously. And because, you know… there’s an alien growing inside your body.”
I pick up my glass of sparkling apple juice. “So I’m guessing you don’t actually want to be a mother.”
“Oh, hell no,” she says adamantly. “I never wanted to get married, either. And yet here I am, trying on dresses like I’m some sort of Disney princess.”
“You’re not enjoying this even a little?”
Bee throws me a glare. “I like playing dress-up. Just not when it involves the shrinking of my life.” She takes another mouthful of champagne and puts the bottle down. “Shit, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m being ungrateful.”
“I don’t think so. You’re being forced into a marriage that you don’t want. To a man, no less. I’d say you have the right to feel… well, at the very least, uncomfortable.”
“I’m not uncomfortable so much as angry,” she corrects with a little sigh. “I guess a part of me never really thought it would get this far.”
I hesitate before I speak up again. “Can I ask you a serious question?”
“Shoot.”
“Why not just… run away?”
Bee smiles wryly. “It’s not like I haven’t thought about it. But my father would never just let me go. He’d track me down and, trust me, he’d find me.” She leans back against the sofa and kicks her bare feet up. Those fuchsia toenails of hers stand out against the bright whiteness that’s literally everywhere in this bridal shop. “And if he found me, he’d kill me.”
A shudder runs down my back. “Would he really…?”
She doesn’t even hesitate before she nods. “He’s tried in the past. He walked in on me with one of the maids years ago. He forced me to strip naked before he whipped me—in front of all his vors.”
My hands fly to my slack-jawed mouth. “No.”
“Oh, yes. I was out of commission for weeks after that beating. When Dmitri bullied his way into the mansion, I was practically catatonic, staring off into space like a ghost.”
I blink back the tears in my eyes. “Bee…”
“Oh, stop it. Stop that right now. Don’t you dare feel sorry for me. If there’s one thing I hate more than tears, it’s pity. I’m no victim.” Her voice is curt. “You know who told me that?”
“Who?”
“Dmitri, obviously.” I smile and she returns to take another pull from the champagne bottle. “Is this hard for you? Seeing me trying on wedding dresses to marry the man you have feelings for?”
I squirm in place. “Are you always so blunt?”
