Roza flitted around the room like a fairy on speed. “You look perfect,” she cooed and tugged at my dress. “Oh, my god Cassie. I wasn’t sure about you, but yes, you’re incredible.”
“Thanks, I think?” I frowned as she adjusted my veil, then tried to fluff up my boobs. I swatted her hands away. “It’s fine, stop fussing.”
“Fine? Fine?” She glared at me. “This is your wedding day, girly. You’d better be into more than fine.”
I sighed and looked at myself in the floor-length mirror. It was vintage, like everything else in the room—vintage dresser, vintage bed, ancient rugs and ancient wall art.
Roman chose the venue. We were on the outskirts of Atlanta in an old refurbished hotel from the 20s. It was converted into an events space with some of the rooms reserved for guests. The building was gorgeous: white-washed stone with vines growing up one side, the place dripping with southern decadence and beauty. Silver railings, bronze doorknobs, intricate tile work on the floors and hardwood that must’ve been straight off the Mayflower.
And none of it mattered to me. I had no say in any of the details—Roza took care of all that. Even the flowers were her choice, although I had to admit, they were very pretty, a mix of wild and domesticated, understated but still colorful and charming. Roza had amazing taste, and I was lucky that she put this all together.
But it wasn’t me. None of it was me.
And that had to be fine, because I wasn’t here to fulfill some lifelong dream.
“Alright, you’re looking depressed. Either tell me what’s going on or I’m getting champagne.”
I tugged at my dress. It was gorgeous and perfectly tailored to my body, the bust revealing just the right amount of cleavage, my chest covered in delicate lace, the beading understated yet elegant, the train short and easy to walk in. I looked like a goddess, like a character from a TV show—
And I never would’ve picked it out in a million years.
“You know the cliché? About all girls wanting a wedding and stuff?”
Roza nodded and leaned against my arm. She stared into the mirror and put her head on my shoulder. “I know this isn’t what you pictured. But it’s pretty nice, right?”
“It’s amazing. Seriously Roza, you did such a good job. If I had planned everything, it wouldn’t be half so nice.”
“Thank you. I’m amazing.”
“But it’s not me, you know? None of it is me.”
“I’m sorry, sweetie. If it helps at all, it won’t matter for very long.”
I shook my head. It didn’t help, but she was right anyway. “I’ll get over it. Just having a little moment of melancholy, that’s all.”
“Well, here, I have a surprise for you.” Roza walked over to her purse and fished out a phone. She dangled it in the air, unlocked it, then tossed it to me.
I caught it, but barely. “Hey, careful. I’m not exactly athletic.”
“No shock there. Open the phone app.”
I did as instructed—and sucked in a breath.
Winter’s number was programmed in and ready to go. I looked up and beamed at Roza.
“How’d you know?”
“I figured you’d want to at least talk to her before walking down the aisle.”
“Think she’ll answer? She might be working.”
“She’s home. I checked.”
“You think of everything.”
“Like I said, I’m amazing.” She stretched and cracked her neck like a boxer warming up for a fight. “Now I’ve got to get downstairs and make sure the caterers aren’t fucking up. You talk to your friend and I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”
“Okay. Roza, seriously, thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, darling. Just doing my job.” She blew a kiss and left.
I hit the call button and put the phone on speaker. It rang twice before Winter picked up.
“Cassie! Girl I thought you might be dead! Why haven’t you called me in like three days? Not a text, not an email, no communication from you at all, and meanwhile you’re running around with that rich new man of yours getting into god knows what trouble and I’m stuck here worried sick in Sea Isle—“
“Winter,” I said, cutting her off before she could spiral further.
“Right, sorry, hey. It’s really good to hear your voice.”
The knot in my stomach unclenched and I walked over to sit down on a big velvet chair that looked like it cost almost as much as the absurdly gorgeous dress I was wearing.
“Same to you. How are things back home?”
“Things are fine here, you know how it is. Where are you right now?”
“Atlanta. I’m about to get married.”
She laughed loudly and let out a shuddering breath. “God, what a weird situation. Are you okay?”
“I think so. I wasn’t for a little bit, but talking to you helps.”
“What’s wrong?”
So I told her, leaving out the details about what we were actually doing at this place. She listened like she always did, without interrupting her adding her own judgements or ideas, and when I finished she let out a long sigh.
“Girl, I can’t even imagine. You’re about to walk into someone else’s wedding.”
“But it’s my own.”
“Are you okay with that? I mean, are you safe?”
“I’m okay with it and I’m safe, just having a moment.”
“I hear you. Look, you know I love and support you no matter what, right? I feel like I should ask, are you sure about this? Is this guy Roman worth all this trouble?”
I closed my eyes and thought back over the events of the last few days.
“Yes, I think he is.”
“And is this wedding about more than, I don’t know, business or whatever it is?”
“I think so, yeah.”
“Then walk down that aisle with your head held high and kiss that man on the lips. Slip him a little tongue too, remind him why he’s there.”
“You make it sound so gross.”
“Trust me, it’s not gross when I do it. Well, a little, but in a good way.”
“I really miss you. You know that, right?”
“I know it.” She laughed but it sounded hollow and strained. “If I could be there, I would.”
I curled my legs under me, tucking the dress in so it didn’t hang on the ground. “Tell me everything that’s going on back there. The tourist are showing up, right?”
“Tons of them. You should’ve seen this crew that rolled into the Lobster last night. Biker shirts, torn denim jeans, that sort of crap, and they ordered the silliest pink drinks and thought it was hilarious. Great tippers too.” She went on about the other employees and about the manager, and the more she talked, the more homesick I felt. I wished I could go back there and curl up Winter’s couch and listen to her chatter on and on for hours. I missed laughing with her, missed feeling more confident when she was around.
But Roza poked her head into the room. “We need you in five.”
I nodded at her and waved.
“Winter, I have to get going.”
A short pause on her end. “You sure about this?”
“I’m sure. I love you. I’ll come see you when this is all over, I promise.”
“You better. Make that man bring you to me. I want to visit that house of his.”
“You’ll love it. Private beach. Stupidly luxurious.”
“Sounds like I’m moving in.”
“I’ll make it happen. Talk to you soon, okay?”
“Break a leg or whatever people say to a bride.”
I hung up the phone before I got emotional and ruined my makeup. Roza spent an hour making me look like a model and I didn’t want to mess up her hard work. I had to take deep breaths to pull myself together.
Roza appeared again. “Showtime, darling. You ready for your man?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
I followed her into the hall and down the steps.
