Since we’re getting married here at the house, Brant’s bedroom and master bath have been transformed into a bridal suite. The bed he left me alone in this morning is neatly made, with garments and handbags scattered across the soft surface. My sister and my niece are in the bedroom primping at a makeshift vanity Amber set up on the window seat, and Brant’s sisters are helping me get ready in the bathroom.
“Time to get this pretty dress on,” Bri says brightly as she takes my lovely lace fit-n-flare gown off the hanger.
I feel like I’m going to be sick.
I peel off the white satin robe I wore while we did my hair and makeup. Underneath is my bridal lingerie: white lace panties with sexy garters and sheer white thigh-highs along with a delicate corset tied loosely so it doesn’t hurt the baby. My stomach is still mostly flat; I’m not showing noticeably yet, but there’s a faint curve and thickness that I can feel since it’s my own body that has changed.
My wedding dress is mostly backless, so before we put it on, we have to take off the corset. I’m not self-conscious about being topless in front of other women until I glance over at Bri and catch her looking at me with an almost wistful look on her face. It strikes me as odd and causes me to frown. When her gaze catches mine, she appears almost guilty, like I caught her doing something wrong, then she flashes me a smile and says, “My brother’s a lucky man.”
Crista laughs, tossing a look my way and saying casually, “No kidding. What I wouldn’t give to have the body of an 18-year-old again.”
Even though their words are flattering, I flush with embarrassment and yearn to hide my body.
I get to before long, but as I step into the beautiful white wedding dress I was so in love with when I picked it out, it just feels wrong.
I was supposed to wear this dress down the aisle to a man who adored me, a man whose breath would be ripped straight from his lungs at the sight of his lovely bride.
That’s not going to happen today, and I know it. Brant is too unhappy, and it’s all my fault.
I know the dress isn’t too tight, but as Bri and her sister pull the fabric together and fasten it up the back, I suddenly can’t breathe.
“I can’t,” I say, grabbing hold of the back of a nearby chair and struggling to draw enough air into my lungs.
Bri’s eyes widen as they meet mine in the mirror across from me. “What?”
“I can’t do this. I can’t…”
“The dress? Is it too tight?” she asks, only mildly alarmed as she reaches down to undo the buttons trailing down my lower back.
“It’s not the dress,” I say, pulling away before she gets any undone. “It’s the wedding. I can’t do the… the marrying. I can’t marry him. I can’t do this.”
“Oh, God,” Crista says, horrified, as she lowers the veil she was just about to put on me.
Bri’s jaw falls open, then her gaze darts from her sister to mine in the other room. “Uh… can you guys give us a minute?”
Nobody wants to leave, least of all Crista, but Bri shoos everyone else out of both rooms so only we remain.
Cautiously, Bri approaches me, lifting her gaze to my face. “What do you mean, you can’t do this?”
Shaking my head, all the blood in my body rushing to my face and overheating me, I tell her, “I’m so sorry. I just can’t marry him.”
“You can’t abandon him at the altar, Alyssa. You will break my brother’s heart,” she states, her gaze unwavering.
“You’re the one who told me not to do this in the first place.”
“Yes,” she says, her eyes widening. “I warned you months ago when you still had time to back out. This is your wedding day, and it’s too goddamn late to change your mind. You were able to overlook murder, so what could possibly be the issue now?” Taking a deep breath and attempting a more peaceable tone, she tells me, “This is just cold feet, that’s all. Everyone gets like this right before the wedding. It doesn’t mean anything.”
I shake my head. “No, Bri, that’s not what this is. He doesn’t really want to marry me. He’s only marrying me because I’m pregnant, and that’s not—I can’t—that’s not a good enough reason. I trapped him. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want to be with me. I made him.”
With a sympathetic smile, Bri reaches forward and squeezes my shoulder. “Honey, nobody makes Brant do anything. He wants to marry you.”
Miserably, I sink back into the chair I was sitting in a moment ago. “He doesn’t. He doesn’t even like me anymore, but I can’t explain why. I’m sorry, Bri, I just can’t talk to you about this.”