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requests the presence of
Rebecca Alison Kennedy
for our wedding
Don’t be late. Our forever starts at 11.00 a.m.
I read the writing on the invitation four or five times until a knock on the door breaks me out of my thoughts. “Come in,” I call.
The door opens and in walks Thelma, carrying a garment bag over her shoulder.
“Good morning, Miss Kennedy. Will you be accepting Mr. Black’s invitation?” Her lips curve up in a small smile. This moment is reminiscent of when Thelma first offered me the jewelry box and asked if I was going to stay with him. At that time, I said no. This time, however, it will be a completely different response.
I smile widely back at her. “Of course I will. Is that what I hope it is?” I ask, praying that it is something worthy of being worn today. My sundresses and bikinis won’t work for my wedding.
“It is. Mr. Black chose it for you. Come, we must get you ready. Your wedding is in less than two hours.” Thelma beckons me to her. I slide out of bed quickly and go to stand next to her. She hangs the garment bag over the closet door and starts to unzip it. Once the zipper is all the way down, she moves back to the top to retrieve the hanger. As she peels the bag away, I get my first look at my dress.
A beautiful white, one-shouldered, A-line gown, with Swarovski crystals sewn into the overskirt. I recognize the design immediately. It’s the same dress I wore that night Alexander and I first met. The night my parents gave me to him as payment for a debt. I may have worn black that night, and I may have been given to this man without my permission, but today I will wear the same dress and give myself to him freely.
I know he chose this dress for that exact reason. To show exactly how far we have come in the short amount of time we have known each other. I may have been attracted to him that first night I saw him, but those feelings morphed over time into love. Incredibly deep love and devotion. “Do you like the dress, Miss Kennedy?” I look away from the dress to Thelma.
“I do, Thelma. I love it. Now let’s get my hair and makeup done so I can get to my wedding.” Thelma leads me to the bathroom and sits me in front of the inbuilt vanity where all my cosmetics are laid out in front of us.
“I’ll work on your hair, and you do your makeup. We will have you ready in no time.” Her fingers are already pulling through my hair.
“But first you must shower, and I will be back in ten minutes.” She squeezes my shoulders gently, her smiling face reflecting at me in the mirror, before backing out of the room and closing the door.
I quickly shower, making sure to scrub myself clean everywhere. When a knock sounds at the door I know Thelma has been counting the ten minutes on her watch, ensuring that we use every minute we have perfectly. I hear her knock once more and I know it’s time to get out. I turn off the taps and hop out of the shower, grab the towel from its hook and begin to dry myself off. Once I’m dry, I wrap the towel around me and pull open the door and step back into the bedroom.
“Okay, here are your undergarments. Pop them on along with the silk robe so you will be comfortable whilst we get you ready.” She stares at me, waiting for me to do as she says.
“Thelma, I know you have seen me at my worst, and I thank you for all of the care you gave me whilst I was recovering, however, I’m not getting naked in front of you.” My voice comes out small. She turns around and I quickly drop the towel and get dressed, shrugging the robe on, and just as I’m tying the sash, she turns back around to face me.
“We only have a short time to get you ready. Come! Let’s get you all glamorous.” I follow her back into the bathroom where I sit at the vanity and begin to apply my makeup, while Thelma curls my hair with a curling iron. As I’m applying my blush, she’s pinning curls up around my head. And as I apply the last lashings of mascara, Thelma places a large white rose into the back of my hair.
I take a good look at myself in the mirror and I’m overwhelmed at the person smiling back at me. Gone is the woman who six months ago was scared to see the scars staring back at her, and in her place is a woman once again completely comfortable in her own skin. I lift my hands to my ears as a large red crushed velvet box is reflected in the mirror. I lift out of the chair and spin to face Thelma.
“These are for you, Miss Kennedy, from Mr. Black. Gifts for your wedding.”
I take the box from her hand and open it carefully. Inside is a beautiful teardrop necklace, in Alexander’s preferred jewel, a dark blue diamond. Beside the incredible piece are two matching diamond stud earrings. At least two carats each. “I swear my soon-to-be husband must own a blue diamond mine,” I whisper. Thelma just smiles sweetly at me.
“May I put them on for you?” she asks. I nod. Thelma carefully retrieves the necklace from its cushioned place in the box and places it around my neck, securing it at the back. The teardrop sits perfectly at the base of my throat. High enough that the top of my gown will sit underneath. I pull the earrings out and place them through my ears and once again stare at myself in the mirror. All that is needed now is my gown.
Back in the bedroom, Thelma unhooks the straps of my gown from the hanger, unzipping the top of the dress and holding it out. I step into it and slide my arms through as she carefully pulls it up. Once I am enveloped in my gown, she zips me up and begins to smooth the fabric down. I look at myself in the full-length mirror, loving what I see.
“Oh no, what about shoes?” I ask.
“Here, Miss Kennedy. Mr. Black ordered you these too.” She opens the lid, revealing a beautiful pair of white lace-covered high heels, with tiny crystals on the heel that shimmer as they catch the light. I slip my feet into them with the help of Thelma and I’m completely ready. “You look lovely.”
“Thank you, Thelma.”
“Wait here for a few minutes, I will be back in a moment,” she says as she disappears from my room. I continue to stare at myself in the mirror, turning every which way to see what I look like from all angles. About ten minutes later, a knock sounds at the door.
“Come in,” I call. The door opens and reveals Harold. “Hey, what are you doing here?” I ask.
He steps into the room, looking very distinguished in a tuxedo. “Well, I was wondering, well hoping—”
“Spit it out, Harold! Say whatever it is you want to say to me,” I say as slight embarrassment begins creeping onto his cheeks.
