Page 278 of Naughty Nelle

How does she know? Hook doesn’t count.

“Elz is right,” says Winnie, the relationship guru. “Don’t let him go.”

Don’t let him go.The words whirl around in my head and cloud my thoughts. Only one thing is clear. If Gallant were mine, I could never live with myself knowing what I did to Snow White. Never. A greater force has conquered my desire. My conscience.

Remembering Marcella’s gown, I leap up from the table without saying good-bye to my friends. Or thanking them for their advice. This time, girlfriends and chocolate did not have magical powers.

With tears storming down my face, I stagger about the mall, unsure if I’ll make it to The Ballgown Emporium. I hate Marcella but hate myself more. So much more.

Armando’s Ballgown Emporium is pure mayhem. It’s packed with last minute shoppers, buying gowns for the ball. As I stumble into the store, I bump smack into The Queen of Hearts. Folded over her blubbery arm is an extravagant heart-print gown.

Trying to stay calm, I hastily curtsey before her. I keep my head bowed, hoping she won’t notice my tear-soaked face. She doesn’t.

“My dear, are you here to pick up your gown for the ball too?”

She actually thinks I’m going to the ball? Me? The woman whose head she wanted for the attempted murder of her late daughter-in-law?

My lips quiver. “Um, I’m actually here to pick up Marcella’s gown.”

“I understand she and Gallant are making a very important announcement tonight.”

I fight back tears. Of course. Their engagement before the entire kingdom.

“Ta-ta,” says The Queen with a dainty little wave. “See you at the ball.”

Aided by a swarm of sprightly pixies, Armando is crazy busy with last minute alterations. He has a tape measure around his neck; a pair of shiny scissors in one hand and, in the other, a felt cushion filled with pins and colorfully threaded needles. Oh God! Why does the pincushion have to be a big red apple with bright green leaves? And remind me of Snow White?

As I’m verging on another onslaught of tears, The Emperor spots me. He sashays up to me, planting his signature kiss on both cheeks.

“Dahling, what’s wrong?” he asks. “You look like you’ve lost the love of your life.”

I have lost the love of my life. How did he know that? I catch a glimpse of myself in one of the mirrored walls. With my swollen red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks, I look beyond terrible. This is all too much for me.

“I’m here to pick up Marcella’s gown,” I say feebly, averting his question.

“I just finished it!” He orders his pixie assistants to retrieve it.

With a thumbs up, the tiny fairies zip off. In seconds, they’re back with the red satin gown. It takes more than a dozen of them to hold up the twenty-foot train, their wings drooping from the sheer weight of it. The Emperor relieves them of their burden.

“Isn’t it to die for!” he gushes.

Totally. It’s a work of art! Marcella will indeed be the belle of the ball. And how fabulous she’ll look on Gallant’s arm. Tears flood my eyes yet again.

The Emperor carefully places the gown inside a long, protective muslin bag and folds it over my arm. It’s almost as heavy as my heart.

“Dahling, I must go.” He gives me a big hug. “I’ll see you later.”

Later?He must mean when Marcella shows up tomorrow to order her custom wedding gown. My blood churns.

“And dahling, please don’t cry. It’s so bad for your complexion,” he shouts out as he rushes off to help a princess in distress.

Dragging the gown, I slump out of the store. A flurry of pixies surrounds me.

“Lalalala!” they sing in perfect harmony. “You’ve just won our Be Our Guest sweepstakes.” One of them hands me a flyer.

HOORAY FOR YOU!

Be our complimentary guest at The Enchanted Spa.

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