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“I wish I had someone here that knew me,” I whisper, mostly for myself.
“You invited Rowan,” she points out weakly.
I pull back and shake my head. “Rowan’s lovely. But she doesn’t know the real me. I have no family, Nikita. They’re all gone.”
She takes my hand and squeezes it hard. “We’re your family now, Paige. Me and Nessa and Cyrille and Ilya and Konstantin. We’re your family.”
I notice she doesn’t mention her brother. I wonder if that’s intentional or not. I decide not to ask.
“You don’t have to hide any part of your past from us,” she continues. “We’re not going to judge you for it.”
“If you knew everything in my past, then you would see what I see.” I glance towards the mirror. “I may look the part, but I don’t belong here. I’m an imposter.”
“We’re all imposters in some aspects of our lives,” she sighs. “Half the time, I feel like I’m just playing the part of the confident, independent sister. But there are days when I feel so terrible I don’t want to get out of bed.”
“You and me both,” I mumble.
She smiles and touches my cheek tenderly. “See? We’re more alike than you think.” I laugh through my tears and she gives me a reassuring smile. “This is just a little pre-wedding jitters. It happens to the best of us.”
These aren’t jitters; this is an emotional earthquake of the highest magnitude. I can feel the world around me crumbling and there is nowhere to run.
“I’m scared, Nikita.”
She brushes my hair over my shoulder and shifts behind me in the mirror, smiling sympathetically at our reflection. “Of course you are. Who isn’t?”
80
MISHA
She looks like a dream wrapped in a fantasy.
Being who she is, I’m not surprised she picked a simple silhouette. But the material falls gracefully around her every curve as she walks down the aisle towards me.
Her bouquet is large white roses with a sprinkling of baby’s breath. I wonder if that’s meant to be symbolic.
Her veil covers her face and shoulders behind a wall of delicate lace. I can see the outlines of her, but the details are obscured.
What is she thinking? Is she smiling? Is she happy?
Can I make her happy?
I wait impatiently until the wedding march comes to a close and she reaches the end of the aisle. Konstantin is by my side as the best man. In the corner of my vision, I can see my family seated in the first two rows.
But my eyes are fixed on Paige.
She moves forward and I meet her, instantly grabbing the veil and lifting it up and over. At long last, I see her.
She doesn’t look at me. Her eyes stay trained on the ground, her head lowered as if she’s about to pray.
Nerves, I tell myself.
But Paige refuses to look at me throughout the entire ceremony.
Even when the officiant finally asks us to exchange our vows, her voice is strong and sure, but she looks anywhere but at me.
“I now pronounce you man and wife,” the officiant proclaims. “You may kiss the bride.”
Cheers erupt through the crowd, and I give Paige a quick, sexless kiss on the lips. Her mouth is firm and set. She doesn’t yield to my lips. When I pull away, her gaze is tossed over my shoulder.
