“Fuck them, think of today as the beginning, not the end, okay?” she says as I turn back to her. “We will get you out of here.”
I give her a weak smile and go to the shower.
The morning passes by so fast that I can’t keep my head straight. I’m shoved in a chair and primed and fluffed; I’m in a silk robe sitting in the chair facing the mirror and watching the hairdresser and my mother get into an argument about whether my hair should be up or down.
To me, it doesn’t really matter. It’s not going to make a difference. I twist my fingers together.
The closer I get to marrying him, the more my stomach turns.
The hairdresser tosses the brush onto the vanity, facing my mother. “I have specific instructions from Mr. Russo that the bride’s hair must be up.” She puts her hands on her hips and glares at my mother.
They banter back and forth, tugging my hair up and tossing it down.
“Down,” I say. But no one hears me. I clear my throat.
“I’d like it down, please,” I say loudly.
They both stop immediately and look at me in the mirror. My mother breaks out into a patronizing smile and looks at the hairdresser.
If Alexander wants it up, I’m going to wear it down.
An hour later, I’m in my dress, my hair cascading down my back in a fishtail braid beautifully threaded with pearls and baby breath, and my veil trailing down my back.
The flower bouquet of white roses and orchids shakes in my hand as I stand in front of the door, staring at it. Anna and I are the last ones in the room. She has her hand on the small of my back.
“Let’s do this shit, baby.” She hugs my shoulder, and we head out together to face my impending future.
We arrived at the church. I get out and Anna holds my hand as we make our way to the church doors. His mother kisses my cheeks and takes me into the side room, where we all take a seat and wait. My sister smiles at me. My mother is actually being nice, fixing my veil and swiping at imaginary wrinkles.
The door opens and my heart drops. My father is standing there with a smile on his face. “It’s time, Isabella.” He crosses the room and takes me by the shoulders as I stand on shaking legs. “You look beautiful.” He kisses both my cheeks.
My mind spins; this is so weird, my father hates me. Again, another man putting on a show. I follow his lead as he takes my arm and puts it on his forearm as he leads me from the room. Anna and Rebekah are waiting by the double doors.
Anna sends me the “You got this girl” look, and I smile at her. The music starts and the doors open. The girls proceed in and my stomach drops. Oh god, I think I’m going to throw up. I clutch my stomach.
My father grips my chin in a tight grasp, his teeth are clenched together and he snarls. “You fucken smile, keep your head up and don’t trip. Don’t fuck this up this close to the end, Isabella.” He lets go of my chin and flips my veil over my face. He takes my arm and we head to the entrance.
My hands start to shake as I take tentative, careful steps towards the front of the church, where I know Alexander stands, his broad shoulders back, hands clasped in front of him, standing straight with his brothers at his side.
I quickly glance around the room; hundreds of eyes look at meand I die inside. We reach the front, and Alexander steps up to take the hand my father offers him. My father lifts the veil and kisses my cheeks before leaving to go sit with my mother.
Alexander holds my hand tight in his warm palm, leans down and kisses my cheek, his vanilla musk assaulting my nostrils.
“You look beautiful, Isabella.” I still can’t bring myself to look at him. He leads me to the altar and we face the priest. I pull my hand from his and hold my flowers, doing my best to stop them from shaking. Alexander gives me a brooding look and faces the priest once again.
Words are spoken, but I zone out. I can’t think straight except for the fact that I am standing here, going through with this, all the while planning my escape. Alexander is talking, and he turns me to face him. But I can’t look him in the eyes; I don’t want to give myself away, so I stare at his lapels, at the beautiful white rose boutonnière pinned to his tux.
“Isabella!” Alexander growls low, tugging my hand slightly. I bring myself out of the fog I was in and glance down. He has my hand in his, and a huge diamond ring is now on my finger.
My chest constricts, and I can feel the sting starting in the back of my eyes. I had hoped that one day, if I was lucky, a ring on my finger would mean I had found someone to truly love me, protect me, and be mine forever.
As I look at it, it feels more like an anchor on my hand weighing me down, a tiny glittering handcuff ending all those hopes and dreams.
Alexander drops my hand; Anna reaches around me and takes my flowers. Alexander places his left hand in mine and passes me a large platinum ring. I take it from him and look up at the priest; I say the words he asks me to say, never once looking at Alexander. With trembling fingers, I push the ring on his left finger; his strong tanned hand clasps mine softly once it’s on.
A tear escapes down my cheek as I look down at his finger. Thatshould have meant something, would have meant something to me with the right man.
Alexander wipes it away, gathering me in his arms to kiss his new bride. I turn my head, finally looking into those cold gray eyes. Another tear falls, and he leans towards me to kiss me. I turn faintly and kiss the corner of his mouth slightly, backing away, and putting my head down.
