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Before she can say anything else, I hang up.
It takes me ten long breaths until I can ease the trembling in my fingers.
By the time I do, the door opens and Nikita walks in. She’s wearing a long, navy lace dress that makes her look like Morticia Addams. She takes one look at me and her eyes go wide. “You certainly look like a bride.”
I turn to the full-length mirror positioned in the corner of the room. My dress is custom-made, thanks to Nessa. No designer would have taken our quick turnaround time without a serious payout, but she refused to tell me how much it cost so I could reimburse her.
The dress is strapless with a delicate, blush-colored lace overlay. The corset sits comfortably over my belly so it’s both comfortable and flattering.
Despite the two marriage ceremonies I’ve had, if they can even be called that, this is the first time I’ve worn a wedding dress. I’d say the third time’s the charm, but today feels anything but charmed. It feels cursed. I shouldn’t have called Mom. I shouldn’t have said yes to Misha. I should have taken the baby in my womb and run off to anywhere that would let me hide and breathe and live without fear of what will happen when my own demons tear me apart from the inside.
I force myself to breathe and shake my head. Today’s ceremony is supposed to be for show, but it feels all the more real now that I’m really looking at myself.
“Nikita…”
Her expression turns to concern when she meets my eyes. I open my mouth, but I don’t know how to express what I’m feeling. I feel my legs give way. Suddenly, Nikita is by my side, trying to hold me up.
“Take small steps backwards,” she tells me calmly. It’s the same tone her brother uses when he’s taking control of a situation. “I’m going to help you sit down.”
I follow her instructions and end up on a white cushioned ottoman.
“Breathe,” she orders.
I try, but I don’t let go of her arms. She doesn’t seem keen to let go, either. She keeps a solid hold on me and breathes right alongside me.
I feel a tear slip down my cheek, but I don’t release Nikita long enough to wipe it away. At this point, I don’t even care about my makeup. Let it run. Let it smudge. None of this matters, anyway.
“Paige. Hey. Look at me.”
I look at her. Why does she have to look so much like her brother? I hate her for it with a hot, vicious lash of vitriol that’s over and gone as soon as it appeared.
“What do you need right now?” she asks.
Your brother.That’s the first thing that pops into my head. I need Misha. And that raw, unvarnished realization makes me feel completely vulnerable and utterly broken.
Despite everything, he is still my first instinct. Somehow, despite my best efforts, I’ve managed to fall in love with the man I’m married to. The man I promised myself I would not fall for. A man who can never love me the way I love him.
“I… Nikita… This is a mistake. I can’t do this.”
“Paige,” she says again in a voice that’s so soothing it’s almost maternal, “you’ve already done this. You and Misha are already married. The wedding is just ceremonial. Empty ceremony for the spectacle.”
“I can’t be his wife,” I clarify. “He doesn’t want what I want. He… he…”
“You’re in love with him.”
I stare at her, feeling like a complete and utter failure. This marriage was supposed to be different. I got married the first time for love, and look at how that turned out.
This time was meant to be about security and safety. But of course I’ve gone and ruined everything. I made the mistake of hoping. Of believing in a miracle.
“Please don’t tell him,” I plead.
“Oh, Paige, sweetheart.” It’s the first time I see her walls of distrust and suspicion come down.
She wasn’t sure about me. Not until this exact moment.
There’s nothing quite like a pathetic breakdown to force you to see that the person in front of you has no ulterior motives. Just a lot of naïveté.
She hugs me, and I melt right into her arms, clinging to her like I would have clung to Clara if she were here.
