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“Vera Wang was never meant to be worn with a belly!”
Bee has a legitimate point. The gorgeous, strapless Vera Wang gown hangs off the back of the walk-in closet’s door. The seams have been taken out at the waist for the sake of her fake pregnancy and the dress has a sad, deflated look to it now, like a wrinkled balloon with all the air sucked out.
“You’re still gonna look beautiful,” I insist.
My comfort is lost on her. She tosses the huge prosthetic stomach onto the bed and sinks onto the carpeted floor. “This sucks. It totally freaking sucks!”
I join her on the floor and take both her hands. “Is this about the dress or is this about the fact that you’re marrying a man you’re not in love with?”
“It’s both!” she pouts. “Also, it’s about marrying a man, period. It goes against my principles, Wren!”
I bite my lip, wondering how on earth I’m supposed to help her here. I’m way out of my depth and the one person who can maybe help is the one person I want to avoid at all costs. Especially since his move with the swing, which has made it extremely hard to hate him in the last few days.
Goddamn him for that.
Goddamn him for everything.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Bee whispers, looking directly into my eyes. “I’m being a selfish bitch, aren’t I?”
“What? No, of course?—”
“Here I am, complaining about my fancy wedding, while you have to deal with watching me marry the man you’re in love with.”
I drop her hands like they’re on fire. Pretty sure my cheeks are on fire, too. “I… That is… I am not in love with him!”
Bee wrinkles her nose with embarrassment. “Shit. Sorry. That slipped out. I’m on a roll here, apparently.”
“Do you really think I’m in love with Dmitri?” I demand.
The nose scrunching only gets worse. “Well, aren’t you?”
“No!” I practically scream. “He killed my sister and my brother in law. He basically kidnapped me and kept me prisoner in his home for months. He… he…”
He cooked meals for me. And massaged my swollen feet. And bought me my very own apartment.
And tracked down a silly childhood swing just because I told him it meant something to me.
Goddamn him for all of that, too.
“Oh, God,” I explode, trying to scramble up to my feet so that I can breathe a little better. “You’re getting in my head,” I accuse Bee. “You’re trying to confuse me!”
“Oh, honey…” She gets to her feet, too, although far more gracefully than I did. “If you’re confused, it’s not because of me.”
“I’m not in love with him, Bee. I’m just not.”
She nods calmly. “Okay. You’re not.”
I frown. She’s just placating me, telling me what I want to hear. My stomach twists as I try to put my finger on exactly why I feel so damn horrible right now. Because I have to admit: I felt horrible before Bee mentioned anything about my definitely-not-feelings for Dmitri.
It’s hard to put a finger on anything when I can’t get some air in my lungs, though. I’m wrapped in a thin silk robe but I may as well be wearing a cinched corset, based on the way my breath keeps getting stuck in my chest. “Urgh…”
I’m pacing back and forth when Bee steps in front of me and grabs me by the shoulders. She looks me in the eye and gives me a little shake that snaps me out of my panic. “Listen to me, Wrenny. You don’t have to feel guilty.”
“Guilty? Guilty about what?”
“About loving the man who killed your sister.”
Shiiiiit.
