Page 3 of Legally Yours

CASSANDRA

Standing in front of the mirror, I see a woman dressed elegantly, looking beautiful, and yet something is missing. Because someone who is about to get married should be radiant. There should be a sparkle in their eyes, and a smile dressing their face. Even if it is a nervous one.

Yet all that’s looking back at me is a woman veiled by sadness. A sadness that’s been caused by the deepest of betrayals. And the feeling that I’m the stupidest person to walk the earth.

But for some reason unknown to me, I’ve still decided to go ahead with this wedding. I’ve not mentioned anything to David or Emma about what I saw or heard. What they’ve done is still sinking in, honestly. The thought of even saying the words out loud makes me feel nauseous, because then it would make it real.

The last sickening words of my so-called best friend ring through my mind, about how David won’t be marrying me and how this is all one big joke to her. It still feels like a nightmare that I’m about to wake up from any minute now.

But that hasn’t happened yet.

“Get it together, Cassandra,” I murmur to myself in the mirror, blinking away the white-hot pricks of tears that have begun to gather at the corners of my eyes.

I smooth over my dress. It’s simple yet still beautiful, what I thought would be perfect for the understated, intimate Vegas wedding that I planned for David and I. Standing here now after everything that’s happened, I’m glad that he chose this type of service and not the huge, dream wedding.

The thought of having to perform in front of hundreds of guests would have brought me to my knees. There’s just no way I would have been able to pull that off with all of the emotions tumbling through me.

For now, I decide to just go through with this and hope that David turns up. I make my way downstairs, crossing the impressive foyer and heading to the chapel where we’ll say our vows.

I smile, though it tugs at my broken heart, to see a couple emerging, their faces beaming. The bride shrieks as her new husband gathers her in his arms. “Congratulations,” I say as they pass me.

“Thanks! And you, too,” she cries. “You look beautiful.”

I smile, but as soon as I turn away from them, it crumbles. There’s no sign of David yet, and anxiety begins to nibble at my stomach. I wait for what seems like hours, but it looks like Emma was right. He’s not coming, and he won’t be marrying me.

But, as much as I hate myself for it, I still hold out hope, because I just can’t give up now. If he just knew how much love I have for him, how willing I am to try and work on things and to forgive him for everything he’s done. I’ve sacrificed so many things so we can be together and build the life he said he wanted.

Besides, what would my family and friends say if I returned without that ring on my finger? I wince at the thought of being made such a fool in front of the people I care about, though maybe some of them were right – I’m too trusting and stupid when it comes to love.

A while later, when I’ve lost all hope inside this stupid waiting room, my phone rings.

“I'm sorry, honey. I can't attend our wedding today. There's an important meeting that I need to settle," David says.

The sadness in his voice doesn’t sound sincere. In fact, I doubt anything about him is sincere anymore. But even now, after everything I know, the pain he leaves behind is real, and right now it’s the only real thing I have.

“It's okay." That’s all I can say. The mixture of raw pain and numbness has me in its grip like a vice, and it’s not letting go.

"Thank you, honey. Let's postpone it today and reschedule for next week." Without another word, the phone goes dead. It’s as if he’s just canceled an inconsequential meeting at work and not his wedding!

I can’t even cry. It’s as if every tear I have already shed has been enough on this piece of work, and my body refuses to expend any more energy on him. Taking a deep breath, I straighten myself up to leave.

When I head from the waiting room into the corridor, I see a white man looking like I feel, sitting on the bench. “Bad day, too?” I ask, noticing how utterly gorgeous he is.

“Could say that,” he replies, offering a handsome, if somewhat flat, smile.

“Didn’t get the girl?” I ask, wondering.

“Didn’t turn up,” he says.

I brace myself to say it. “Same here.”

He looks down at me, a confused look in his eyes when he takes me in. “Well, he’s a fool.”

“He’s more than that, he’s acheatingfool.” A sudden flare of anger surges inside me. “Actually, he’s a cheating-with-my-best-friend kind of… fool,” I finish, not wanting to curse in front of a stranger, though lord knows I think I’ve earned the right.

“The worst kind,” he replies, smirking.

I have to admit, whatever woman left this guy standing at the altar must be crazy. Tall, handsome, built like a Greek god, and with emerald eyes to die for, he looks like he’s just stepped off the catwalk – and I’ve seen plenty of those types. He knocks spots off all of them.

---