Page 2 of Something Blue

I stand up and hurry over to Dalila, who has unhooked my dress from the cupboard where it was hanging. She slides the hanger out from the high halter neck and drapes the dress over her arm. “You ready to tango yourself into this thing?” She laughs.

Trying on the dress was a nightmare. It’s so fitted around the bodice and up over my chest and theystill tailored it even tighter to fit more snuggly against my body - it’s like a corset on steroids. But it is beautiful. Like ridiculously beautiful. Personally, I would have chosen a low-cut neck line, but my father wants pristine elegance, and apparently cleavage isn’t allowed. For a dress ‘within the rules’ I am super excited to wear this one.

I wish the excitement wasn’t tainted by so much stress.

I slide the white silk gown off my shoulders. The little ‘bride’ embroiled label with my name beneath it makes me frown. I catch a glimpse of myself in the long hotel room mirror. All white lace lingerie - looking super hot for my wedding night - but where is the groom?

“He’ll be here.” She says, noticing my face.

“I have a bad feeling.” I mutter, stepping into the dress while Dalila holds it open for me. She starts to tug it up over my hips while I do little hops and breathe in a lot until it’s up over my chest and she has hooked the halter section around my neck.

“Ok, now for the hard part.” She laughs, tugging at the braided cord that pulls it even tighter.

“Ugh.” I gasp and hold on to one of the bed posts.

“Breathe in.” She giggles, tugging again.

“Iam breathing in.”I pack up laughing as she literally has to throw me around to get the dress on properly.

Fifteen minutes later we are both laughing and I’m gently dabbing perspiration off my forehead and hoping I haven’t messed up my make up - again.

“You are fuckinggorgeous.” Dalila says with a massive smile.

A knock at the hotel room door has us both turning towards it.

“Come in.” I say, hoping like hell that someone is here to tell me Damion has arrived.

My father walks into the room with Luke following close behind, head to toe dapper in their black tuxedos with pale olive green pocket squares. I didn’t choose olive green as my wedding accent color. The wedding planner did - she said it was the most appealing color for media coverage. Voted the top color on some social media poll. Whatever. Green it is.

“My angel, my sweetheart, you look absolutely perfect.” My father says, walking towards us with his arms out. There that word is again.

Perfect.

“Is Damion here?” I ask tensely.

Luke stands near the door looking like security instead of my brother.

“Don’t you even worry about it. He’ll be here.” My father says, but I can see how stressed he is. Not that there is ever a time when he isn’t stressed.

“Dad.” I complain, but he holds his hand in the air to cut me off.

“He’ll be here. You are going to carry on, do your part, and by the time the music plays, hewill be here.” He says sternly. I nod tightly. I don’t have the same confidence. Something is wrong.

My father places his finger beneath my chin and turns my face from side to side to look at me.

“Perfect.” He says. “Now remember, keep your held high. Don’t look at the floor when you walk. Walk slowly and elegantly, no marching down theaisle. Speak clearly and loudly, but don’t shout when you say your vows. Always make sure your body is tilted towards a camera, like they showed you in PR training.”

“Dad.” I huff. “Please, I’m stressed enough as it is.”

He glares at me, and I bite my lip. No one talks back to my father. Especially not me.

“There will be a reporter sitting with a cameraman in the front row. That news site has exclusive rights to the first interview after the wedding, so always favor them when you face the crowd.” He says.

I nod.

I can’t believe that even on my wedding day, I don’t get to relax and enjoy it. Never mind the fact that my husband to be is a no show so far - I have to think about how I stand, how I walk, where I look - I can’t enjoy myself.

My father glances at his watch.

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