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I’m relieved when Lilliana comes to pick me up—ten a.m. on the dot as promised—for the day of shopping. Even though it’s going to involve looking for my wedding dress—which I’m not at all excited about—I’m glad to get out of the house. I’ve been dodging Adrik for two days now, hiding in my room, pleading a migraine, and ringing for food to be sent up to me. I don’t know how much longer I can ignore him before he insists on checking on me.
It’s like having a live-in boyfriend who sleeps in a different room.I’m under no illusions that Adrik and I have a strange, unconventional relationship, one that I don’t fully understand or know what the boundaries of it are. Thanks to my impending marriage, we won’t be able to figure it out anytime soon.
I’m going to have to decide how to break that to him, and after thinking about that for half a day, itdidgive me a migraine.
Lilliana looks fresh and bright in a yellow floaty skirt and button-down white top tied just above the waist, her stomach still smooth and flat. “I can’t believe I haven’t hadanymorning sickness,” she tells me as I slip into the backseat of the car. “The doctor says I’m the luckiest mother-to-be she’s ever met. I was worried it meant something was wrong, but the last appointment was fine. I just won the lottery with this, I guess. Which probably means the next one will be miserable,” she adds, as she leans over to get the fixings for a mimosa for me and a bottle of sparkling water for herself.
It’s so reminiscent of the trip I took her on when she was panicking about Nikolai that I can’t help but laugh at the irony of it—that now I’m the one staring down the barrel of an unwanted marriage while she talks about her second baby with him before the first is even showing. I’m happy for her—I wanted nothing more than for her and my brother to find some way to make their marriage work—but it’s hard, knowing that mine doesn’t have that same kind of future to hope for.
Not that Iwantthat. I don’t want any part of a future where I’m in love with Theo McNeil.
“I made an appointment at the same bridal salon we went to for me,” Lilliana says, handing me the mimosa glass. “I thought it might be nice. Nostalgia and all of that.” She smirks at me, and I laugh, a startled sound, as I realize she’s making a joke. A dark one—but the humor relaxes me a little.
“I really do appreciate you doing all of this,” I tell her, swirling the mimosa in the champagne flute. “You didn’t have to put so much work into making me feel better.”
“Of course I do,” Lilliana says firmly. “You’re my sister-in-law, Marika—mysister. I never had one, and I always wanted a sister, even though I would never have wished my father on anyone else. You helped me when I was going through a hard time, and I’m going to do the same for you.” She reaches out, squeezing my hand.
“I’m meeting him tomorrow.” I take a long sip of the mimosa, hoping the champagne will help blur the edges of my nerves a little bit. “It’s all happening so fast. Did you know Nikolai told me to get on birth control?” I laugh, the sound coming out a little off-kilter. “So there’s no chance of me getting pregnant during this. It really is all a ruse. And if Theo finds out—”
“He won’t,” Lilliana says firmly. “He has no reason to think it is, and Nikolai would never put you in danger if he thought there was a chance of that happening. You’re going to be fine, Marika.”
I nod, sucking in a breath and downing the rest of the mimosa. I hand the glass back to Lilliana, and she starts to fix me another one. “I’m going to have to fake my virginity,” I tell her anxiously. “Fake blood, or something. He’s going to expect to see it.”
Lilliana shrugs. “Prick your finger. It doesn’t have to be a lot. Just something to reassure him. Just find some moment when he’s not paying attention, before you get out of bed, and bleed a little.”
“You really were, weren’t you?” I look at her curiously. “You didn’t have to worry about it, with Nikolai.”
She laughs. “I don’t think it’s possible to be more of a virgin than I was when I met your brother. So no, I didn’t have to worry about it. But we had—other problems.”
I don’t ask her what those were. I know a little of it, and I know that if she wanted to tell me more, she would.
“They resolved themselves,” Lilliana says firmly. “Or we worked them out. Yours will work out, too. I’m sure of it.”
The car pulls up in front of the bridal salon, and the driver comes around to open the door. I can feel my palms sweating, and I wipe them on the thighs of my jeans, feeling my pulse pick up nervously as I follow Lilliana into the salon.Oh, how the tables turn,I think wryly as I see Lilliana talk to the woman at the front desk, who nods, motioning us both back to the curtained dressing room with the velvet chairs and gilded bar cart full of petit fours and mimosas that is standard for bridal appointments here.
The attendant helping us is a sweet blonde woman named Sara, who eagerly pulls a selection of dresses for me. I have a small moment of regret for not being as understanding of Lilliana as I should have been—I can’t begin to think of what kind of dress I wouldwant. What I want is to not have to go through with a marriage at all.
Still, I can’t be completely disinterested in it. My stomach is in knots thinking about meeting Theo, so I can’t really enjoy any of the tiny pastries on the tea stand one of the attendants set out, but I do take a glass of champagne, nervously sipping at it as Sara brings a pile of lacy, silky dresses into the changing room and hangs them up one by one.
The first one I try on is similar to what Lilliana picked—a sleek silk dress with straps and a fitted bodice that flows out from my hips. It’s pretty enough, but it feels too much like what she wore. “I should pick something different, right?” I ask her as I look in the mirror, smoothing my hands over the skirt. “It’s nice—but I should try to pick something unique.”
“Sure.” Lilliana shrugs. “Nikolai and I are happy now, but my wedding day wasn’t exactly the best day of my life. Pick whatever feels good. I won’t mind if it looks like mine.”
I try on two more, much more princess-y styles, and none of those feel good, either. I feel swallowed up by them, too petite to wear a full skirt, and the strapless ones make me feel too exposed.
“What about this?” Sara holds up a dress that’s all lace—capped sleeves and a trumpet skirt, tiny pearls sewn onto the lace flowers. “I think this would look lovely on you.”
She’s right, of course. Itdoeslook lovely—the sweetheart neckline gives me a bit more cleavage than I’m accustomed to, and the fitted silhouette gives me curves that I don’t normally have. Paired with a fingertip veil with a matching lace edge, I look like a picture-perfect bride. I could be an ad in a magazine.
“This one,” I tell Sara decisively, and Lilliana bites her lip.
“It’s beautiful on you,” she says. “But do you want to think about it? Maybe go get lunch and then make a decision?”
I shake my head. “I’d rather just have it done,” I tell Lilliana quietly, turning away from Sara so she can’t hear me as well. “I like the dress. I think that’s the best I can hope for in this situation.”
Lilliana gives me a sympathetic look. “I can understand that,” she says quietly. “And itisbeautiful.”
“It’s perfect,” I say as decisively as I can. Itisperfect in every way that matters—not too sexy to wear for a wedding in a cathedral, but still flattering, and the type of dress that I think I would have chosen if Iwantedto be picking out a wedding dress right now. As Sara helps me out of it, I’m even a little sad to be taking it off, if only because itdidlook beautiful.
