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Aella sighed, realizing they were moving back into dangerous territory. “That’s not what I’m saying, Braxton.”
“Okay, because your father lied to her about his home life. She didn’t have anything to do with it. So—”
“Hi, again,” the one voice Aella never wanted to hear again found its way to her ears. “It’s Aella, right?”
She looked up to see Zelina standing there, sporting a sickeningly sweet smile.
“Zebra, I’m really not in the fuckin’ mood right now.”
“It’s Zelina,” she corrected, never dropping her smile. “And I just wanted to say congratulations on the wedding. My invitation must have gotten lost in the mail. I’ve been in Cassius’ life entirely too long for him to leave me out of his special day.”
“Bit—” Aella started to speak, but to her surprise, Braxton beat her to the punch.
“I know you’re not standing here making an ass out of yourself over a man who chose someone else,” she said, folding her hands while looking Zelina up and down. “And from the looks of things, chose up at that.”
“I’m sorry,” Zelina’s face dropped. “Who are you?”
Braxton stood with no hesitation. “I’m the bitch who’s going to be the reason you need a plastic surgeon if you don’t get the fuck out of my sister’s face.”
“Brax,” Aella clamored to her feet, easing herself between the two. “Stop. There’s no need to take it there,” she held up her left hand to flash her ring. “I don’t argue with a loser when I’ve already won.”
Chuckling darkly, Zelina shook her head. “I’m so tired of people underestimating me. Have a good wedding day, Aella.”
“Trust me, I will.”
“Who the fuck is that?” Braxton demanded, snatching the proposal from the table.
“The ex from hell,” Aella rolled her eyes, before processing what had just happened. “You know you didn’t have to do that.”
“What? Defend you?” Braxton inquired.
Aella nodded.
“I did, actually. Like you said, whether I like it or not, you’re my sister, Elle. The only person allowed to come at you crazily is me. I’ll look over the proposal and get back to you, but I can’t be a part of your wedding. It’s just too much right now.”
It was progress. More progress than Aella thought they would make when she arrived.
“I get it. Everything you need is in the folder, and I’m here if you have any questions.”
“Thanks. I’ll talk to you soon, Aella.”
“Later, Braxton.”
Aella sat before the tall vanity, the gilded frame reflecting her face in shards of light from the morning sun. The soft hum of string instruments floated through the grand hall as the stylists moved around her, adjusting the lace at her shoulders, pinning loose curls, and brushing her lips with the faintest rose tint. She let her hands rest on her lap, gripping the bouquet of deep red roses and white lilies.
“Elle, you look so beautiful,” Illaria gushed. “I cannot believe my sister is getting married.”
Aella could hardly believe it as well.
“Breathe, Elle,” their mother chuckled. “Getting to the altar is the hard part. Everything after that will be a breeze.”
Aella glanced at herself again in the mirror. The gown was vintage-inspired, ivory silk with intricate lace sleeves that clung to her arms like a second skin. The dress seemed to shimmer in the sunlight, catching the fine gold threads sewn into the bodice.
There was a firm knock against the door before the wedding coordinator stuck her head inside.
“Victoria, and Ilaria, we’re ready to begin the processional.”
Ilaria straightened immediately, smoothing her dress as their mother rose, already adjusting the line of her sleeves out of habit more than necessity.
