Page 61 of The Proposal


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"So bloodthirsty." I peer into her face. "These are the hands of a killer, baby."

"Or of someone who did what had to be done to survive. If you think this is going to make me look at you differently, you’re wrong."

I hold her gaze, and in them, I see a resolve. She’s not upset about what I did to survive. She’s not repulsed by what happened to me. "There’s one more thing you need to know."

She pushes the hair off my forehead. "What is it?"

"There are some scars I carry from the experience that you can’t see. Scars which still affect me. Scars which are now part of me. Indeed, I don’t believe I can do without them."

"Where… where are these scars?"

"If I show them to you, you might not be so understanding."

She lowers her forehead to mine. "If you think that scares me, you’re wrong."

"Even if I told you that it’d affect how we can be together?"

26

Isla

Before Liam could tell me anything more, Zara knocked on the door of Liam’s bedroom. She’d gone searching for me, and when she didn’t find me in my room, she came to Liam’s. I told Liam I wanted to leave, and he said the conversation wasn’t over. In a way, I’m glad Zara interrupted us. I’m not sure I want to know whatever it is Liam wanted to tell me next. My head is already reeling with what he divulged. Somehow, I’m not sure I can also digest whatever it is that he hasn’t yet told me. We’ll have enough time for that after we’re married. Enough time for me to tell him my own secrets.

After how he trusted me, I should be able to share my own scars with him, right? I bite the inside of my cheek. It’s not just about trust. It’s about… Believing in myself enough to share something so intimate and know I’ll survive. Do I have the courage to do that? Am I strong enough? Do I want to?

I glance at my reflection and ask, "How do I look?" I meet Zara and Summer’s eyes in the mirror in my bedroom.

Both stand behind me already dressed in their bridesmaid’s, or as Z prefers to call them, bridesbabe’s dresses. True to her word, Karma made sure each of their looks was distinctive.

Zara wears a simple sheath-like dress in a dark purple which brings out the gorgeous color of her skin. She’s painted her lips the same color. Her only ornament is a silver pendant. She looks sexy, yet understated.

Summer wears a dress in pink that tightens over her belly to celebrate her pregnancy and flows out behind her as she walks. She also wears a scarf around her neck, and somehow, manages to pull off the look without looking too hippie-ish.

Amelie’s dressed in a dark red concoction, with an off-the-shoulder neckline with delicate sleeves. The bodice is decorated with sparkling beads and sequins while the skirt is made of multi-layer tulle. It’s a romantic dress which suits her personality to a T.

As for me? I wear a white, mermaid wedding dress made with Chantilly lace and embroidered cotton lace, stretch satin and organza. The dress hugs my curves and the neckline at the front hints at the cleavage. At the back it dips down to reveal my lower back. The skirt flares below the knee, creating a mermaid-like tail that is utterly elegant. The dress boasts mother of pearl sequins and its pièce de résistance is the dramatic train that extends seven feet from the waist.

I had eschewed the idea of bringing in a hair and make-up team, and had opted to wear my hair down, as always, with very little make up.

"Jesus Christ, woman, you look like a million bucks," Zara exclaims.

"If that doesn’t render Liam speechless, I don’t know what will," Summer agrees.

I glance between them. "I can’t believe Karma managed to create this dress in such a short period of time. In fact," —I swallow the ball of emotion in my throat— "I still can’t believe I’m standing here all dressed up."It’s a fake wedding—a fake wedding—remember? So why doesn’t it feel that way?

Zara holds out her arms. "I’d hug you, but I don’t want to spoil the dress."

"Bullshit, woman." I hold out my arms. "I need to squeeze the hell out of all you right now."

They dutifully oblige, and we hold onto each other for a few minutes.

Zara sniffles. "You’re going to make me cry. That’s not allowed. No tears on this occasion.”

I manage to smile. "Not sure I’ll be able to oblige, but I’ll try."

"Not enough, lady." She blinks away her tears and scowls at me. "You’re not going to go out there with swollen eyes.”

"Yes, Mom." I chuckle.

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