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Thirty-Two
Rick
The door to the dining room burst open and Astrid strode in. She looked out of breath but determined. Uncle Hubert looked at her, confused. I wasn’t sure what to say. I knew she was about to read me the riot act. She stood at the head of the table and banged her fist as if she was about to call us to order with a gavel. For such a little thing, she terrified me. Neither of us dared utter a word.
“There is a wedding emergency—anemergency—and you are needed urgently, Rick!” Astrid said.
“What?” I asked, confused. “You were just here?—”
“I was. We were. Come with me,” Astrid said.
I excused myself, following the princess into the hallway. Again, she outclassed me by walking a million miles an hour. My brain couldn’t function with my feet moving so fast.
“Astrid, slow down. What is happening?”
Astrid stopped, turned, and glared with hands on her hips.
“Alex needs you. Terribly. The least you could do?—”
“Alexandra does not want my help.”
“She may not want it—at least not openly—but she needs it.”
“The bitch signed the papers. You all are safe,” I said. “I was there to ensure?—”
“And I am grateful for that, but this isn’t about freedom. This is about Alexandra’s happiness and self-esteem. This isn’t strategic. This is because I know you love her and want to help her be happy. She is in a puddle of tears. This is me giving you an olive branch. It is your job to help and not fuck it up.”
“What?”
“Her dress is a disaster. I am not sure what we can do. It’s your chance to hold the cunt accountable for her actions, okay? Be the white knight. That’s what Alexandra needs right now. I find it insufferable, but she craves it. She’ll never say it.”
“I don’t want to poke the bear.”
“Do you want a happy bride? A happy wife? A happy life?”
“Of course.”
“Then bloody well grow a pair, Prickard!”
I snickered. “Okay, okay. Go easy on me. I am trying to figure it out. What is the issue?”
“The dress is all wrong. Celeste interfered. She says she looks like a nun. Even the colour is wrong. It’s arctic white. She wanted ivory.”
“Fuck! Wait, does she look nunnish? Is that even a word?”
Astrid rolled her eyes. “I don’t bloody well know! And… never tell my beautiful sister, but yes. She’s understandably and justifiably broken right now.”
“What can I do? I’m no seamstress,” I said, annoyed and confused. “I know nothing about women’s fashion apart from what I find attractive.”
Which was certainly not bridal gowns. Those held no appeal to me. No matter what Alexandra wore, it would be fine, but I’d rather have her in tight jeans or a short skirt any day of the week.
“Maybe, fight for her? For the both of you? She’s still hurt and livid. I also think you strangely love her. She loves you. Where there are challenges, there are opportunities. Be the knight in shining armour and fix it. At least try. Stand up for her. Make her realise how much you care.”
Astrid was emotional. Tears welled. She wanted us to succeed, too. She’d been my biggest concern. She was her sister’s best friend and strongest protector. The key to getting back with Alexandra was to take this olive branch. I had to fight like hell for Alexandra if I wanted her. Astrid was helping me.
“Of course I love her! I mean that. I promised to wait.”
“Stop waiting and burn it all down for her. Go get your wife, okay?” Astrid said. “She lives for grand, romantic gestures regardless of what she tells you.”
