Page 23 of Sins of Bliss

“Your hair and makeup look stunning. Was today your test run of them?”

“Yes,” I say as I unzip my summer dress and slip the sleeves down my shoulders. My tone is clipped, and while I feel slightly guilty—it’s not this woman’s fault I’m filled with dread—I still can’t find it in me to pretend to ooze happiness like I know is expected of me. Holding the dress against my breasts, I give her a weak smile. “May I have some privacy? I can get into the gown myself and will shout if I need help.”

The woman’s face falls, but she nods. “Of course, Ms. Paladino. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

“Thank you,” I say as she slips past the curtain.

As I pull my wedding dress from the hanger, I hear her making conversation with my mother, asking her if she’s excited about my ‘big day’.

Holding open the dress, I step into the sea of tulle and pull it up to my waist, twisting it slightly to get a good grasp on the zipper. I zip it as much as I can before twisting it back and stuffing my arms into the sleeves.

Once the gown is on, I reach my arm behind my back, gritting my teeth as I push past the discomfort and pull the zipper up the rest of the way.

Then I take a moment to look at myself in the mirror.

My reflection shows me a picture-perfect depiction of a bride, ready in every way for her wedding day. She’s lovely, the woman in the mirror. Her gown fits perfectly, her hair and makeup complementing the aura of the dress.

But on the inside, the woman in the mirror is dying. Her death is slow, but little by little, she’s fading away. Not only is she mourning the loss of a relationship she barely got to nurture, but she’s saying goodbye to the vibrant, happy woman she once was.

The Vincenza Paladino I grew to become is slipping through my fingers faster than I can comprehend. I miss the woman Ionce was. The woman I was before August forced me to become his bride, threatening to destroy the man I love if I were to resist.

What should be the happiest day of my life—the happiest time of my life—is a death sentence to my soul.

Swallowing thickly, I turn away from the mirror and pull the curtain open. My mother immediately begins to tear up, something that she’s done every time she’s seen me in the dress.

“I’m sorry!” she exclaims, dabbing the corner of her eyes with a crumpled-up tissue. “You’re just so stunning, sweetheart. I can’t wait for your father to see his little girl.”

The corners of my mouth turn upward, but I know my smile doesn’t meet my eyes. Stepping onto the pedestal, I fluff the skirt of the gown and run my hands down the front.

“How does everything feel?” Veronica asks, cocking her head to the side as she inspects the dress from behind me.

“Great. The last round of alterations was perfect.”

“Wonderful!” She claps her hands together. “Do you have the headpiece you planned on wearing to try on today?”

“I left it at home,” my mother supplies. “I completely forgot about Vinnie’s hair and makeup appointment prior. That was my mistake.”

“It’s fine, Mother, don’t worry.”

“Not a problem! I’ll leave you two to admire the gown for a moment while I have my colleague settle the remaining paperwork. I’ll just be a few minutes.”

“Take your time,” my mother says through a smile. She stands and comes over to me, brushing the hair away from my shoulder. “Are you okay, Vinnie darling? You seem off. Sad, almost.”

Knots twist in my stomach. Concern shines through my mother's dove-colored eyes, and it kills me that she’s picking up on the emotions I’m obviously failing to conceal.

“I’m fine,” I lie. “Just tired. I actually feel like I’m coming down with something.”

She gasps. “Oh, no! Let's get you out of this dress and home so you can relax. You can’t get sick—we have such a busy week ahead with the rehearsal and then, of course, the wedding. This would be the worst time for you to catch something.”

She shoos me off the pedestal, pressing her hand against my lower back to turn me in the direction of the fitting room.

My dress drags elegantly behind me as I walk, the fabric making a soft swishing sound.

Following me into the room, she starts to unzip the back of my gown.

“No!” I shout as I turn quickly to pull away from her. I don’t think—I just react, which startles us both.

Her eyes widen, her soft features scrunching in confusion, but she takes a step away from me. “I’m sorry, I?—”

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