Page 45 of Reign
“I like this one.” O holds up one of the bridesmaids’ dresses, and I smile.
“If you and the other girls can agree on a dress, or better yet, it doesn't matter. If you love that, then it’s yours. As long as it’s black, I’m not picky about style,” I tell her, and she heads for the fitting room. I continue to walk around and Cynthia comes back with a tray holding wine glasses. She hands me one, and I take a sip, groaning at the sweet, floral taste.
“This is so good,” I say and her smile widens.
“Perfect. It’s the wine that will be served with dinner at your reception. Mr. Jameson will be pleased,” she says, and I cock a brow.
“Word to the wise, my dear, don’t call him mister. Call him ‘Sir’. He likes that better,” I tell her, and she nods, making me giggle. Everyone is so afraid of Jamie. He’s such a big teddy bear, but when he’s in front of others, he exudes power and money.
“Hey, Fal. What do you think of this for me?” Lucille yells out, and I whip around, seeing her holding a deep green dress with a low neckline with a lace sleeve covered in intricate beadwork.My eyes widen.
“It’s gorgeous. Go try it on. Let me see,” I tell her, and she takes off for the dressing room. Taking another sip, I groan again at how good the wine tastes as O steps out of the changing room. I gasp at how gorgeous she looks in her long, black, mermaid-style, off-the-shoulder, lace dress with spots of cream shining through.
“I love it. I really, really love it,” she says, and I smile.
“Is Hayden coming to the wedding?” I ask, and she rolls her eyes.
“If he knows what’s good for him, he fucking better,” she says sternly, and I laugh.
“Thatta girl, you tell him,” I say, and she giggles, taking a sip of her wine.
“This really is damn good,” she says, and I nod, continuing to look through racks and racks of dresses. Cynthia clears her throat, and I look over at her.
“Are you ready to try some of the things that your husbands picked out?” she asks, and my eyes widen.
“They picked out dresses? Of fucking course they did,” I say, and the girls laugh from the dressing room. “Sure, let's do this.”
Hours later, and a million and one dresses later, I think I found the one. Presley and Giovanna arrived just a bit ago and have already chosen their bridesmaids' dresses. But here I am sulking in the mirror, hating everything I’ve tried on. I don’t know what it is. I don’t know if it's just a me thing or I just really wish my mom was here. Zipping the dress, Cynthia turns me towards the mirror, and I gasp as she places the black veil over my face.
“You look amazing in this one. The perfect Bride of Death,” she says, and I roll my eyes.
“How much have you spoken to my husband, Jameson? I think he’s rubbing off on you.” I laugh, and she follows right along with me.
“A lot. He’s a very demanding man, but let's go show the others,” she says, and I take another sip of my wine, emptying the third glass. If I don’t choose a fucking dress in the next hour, I will be forced to get married in a band tee and some leggings because I am over it.
Stepping out of the room, I take a deep breath and look up at my friends and family. Lucille has tears in her eyes, and the others are just shaking their heads with wide eyes.
“Sooo…” I trail off, doing a little spin. “What do we think?” I ask, and Lucille gets up from the couch, walking over to me.
“This is the dress, Fallon. Don’t second guess, this is it. I know I’m not your mom, and I know you wish she were here with us. She is. Trust me, she is in spirit. She’d never miss this for the world, and everything in my body is telling me, this is the dress.” She hiccups, wiping the tears from her eyes.
“Okay, okay.” I turn and look at myself as I stand on the podium, lifting the veil over my face. I get a good look at how perfectly this dress fits my body, and all the red beadwork that I assume are diamonds because my husbands wouldn’t have it any other way. My heart pounds in my chest as a tear drops from mycheek, but the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. Something is not right.
“Did anyone bring a gun with them today?” I ask once again, feeling fucking stupid for not coming prepared. O shakes her head as Giovanna and Lucille take pistols out of their purses and Presley just looks like a deer in headlights. I laugh, shaking my head.
“It got oddly quiet in here, and my gut is telling me something is wrong. Someone get me out of this dress. I am not staining it just yet.” I panic as the girls get to work taking it off me. Giovanna hands me her pistol, and I cock it with a smirk.
“Your brother taught you well, I see.” But she doesn't reply, just winks at me. Once out of the dress and in nothing but a red lingerie negligee the guys picked, I kick off the heels and head for the door. Just as I go to open it, it swings back at me, forcing me to take a few steps back. I roll my eyes, lift my gun, and point it at her head.
“Teagan, what can I fucking do for you?” I ask as she holds a gun to Cynthia’s head. The poor girl is shaking and crying. She’s clearly never encountered people like us before, and it shows loud and proud.
“Since your brother and Zayn can’t complete the job. I’m here to do it for them!” she spits, and I laugh as Lucille steps in front of me, pointing her gun at my aunt as well.
“Let Cynthia go, T. This isn’t the time or place for your crazy talk,” she warns.
“Still Theresa’s lapdog, I see,” she spits, and I growl.
“Give it up; you will never be your twin. You will never have the life she had. Grow up and fucking deal,” Lucille yells, and my eyes widen. Hell yeah. You tell the bitch.
