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“Good,” Vinny agrees. “And what time can you marry us today?”
“I can prepare a Mass for this evening. The ceremony will begin at four.”
Heart hammering against my ribs, I fight to swallow the ball of emotion constricting my throat. This is really happening.
And suddenly, I’m terrified that it might come to light that I am, in fact, already married. If Vinny finds out after the ceremony that I tricked him into breaking Catholic law, I’m as good as dead. Or worse.
“That’ll give us just enough time,” Vinny agrees. Then his eyes rake down my body. “It seems, my love, that you’re in need of a wedding dress.”
A shiver runs down my spine at the way his lips curl into a greedy smile.
“Don’t worry. I know just the place.”
Carrie McCree’s is a beautiful little wedding boutique right off of Charles Street on the north side of Boston Common. I’ve never gone in before, but I’ve passed by the front window on more than one occasion and admired the eloquent dresses.
And the striking artistry of them—the beautiful detail that goes into each one—combined with the boutique’s bright, happy atmosphere contrasts starkly with the garish reason for why we’re here, the black turmoil writhing inside me.
As I stand on the small platform, surrounded by a three-way mirror, an icy ball of dread settles in my stomach.
“That’s the one,” Carrie says, beaming as she stands back to admire me.
Despite the fact that it feels like she’s dressing me in my funeral shroud, I find it impossible to dislike the rosy-cheeked redhead. Every inch of her radiates cheery optimism, which I suspect is partly why she hasn’t noticed I’ve said all of two words since we entered her store.
It’s all I can do to hold myself together. Because anytime I try to face my situation head-on, I feel like I might just unravel at the seams. How quickly can a person lose their sanity? Because I think it might be the quickest relief from the devastation that overwhelms me.
“You look positively stunning, dear,” she adds when I look down to smooth the pristine white fabric of my corset-style dress. Because I don’t dare to check my reflection. “Don’t you think, Vinny?”
Vinny looks up from the black suit her tailor is hemming for him on the spot. His gaze is lascivious as he takes me in, and he licks his lips with such pointed suggestion, it makes me want to vomit. “That’s the one,” he agrees. “Can you have it ready in time?”
“I only brought out the dresses in her size,” Carrie says. “And she fits them all perfectly, of course. You could be a model, honey, with how well you wear my dresses.”
She gives me another warm smile, and I attempt to return it. But I probably just look like I’m in pain because she clears her throat and turns back to Vinny.
“We just have to hem it,” she says, more businesslike. “We’ll be cutting it close, but honestly, since most of the skirt is tulle, I’ll only need to finish off the stitching on the top layer… Yeah, we should have enough time.” She nods as if to reinforce her confidence.
“Perfect,” he says, flashing a charming smile. Vinny seems utterly tickled that everything is falling into place.
Meanwhile, I silently will the universe to provide me with some small delay—anything that might give me one more day, even one more hour, of freedom.
“How long do you want the train, dear?” Carrie asks as Vinny goes back to speaking with the tailor.
I glance down at her, and she has a pair of fabric sheers in her hand, ready to make the cut as soon as I give the word.
“Oh, um… whatever you think best,” I murmur around the hard lump in my throat.
She nods and gets to work, bending over the skirt to make long, sure, precise cuts.
And though I dread it, I know it’s better to get this over with now.
So slowly, I force my gaze up to the mirrors before me.
Pain slices through my chest as I see the opulent wedding dress. So different from the sweet, simple white one Silvia loaned me. Every line of this gauzy white work of art screams money and elegance. I know from the price tag that it’s worth more money than I would make in four months at Pearl’s. And though that horrifies me, I can also see why.
It’s beautiful.
With thin, off-the-shoulder cap sleeves, its overlapping, pleated tulle bodice forms a low heart-shaped neckline before gathering at the cinched, corseted waist. The shape puts my collarbones on full display and cups my breasts, lifting them to reveal an impressive amount of flesh above the fabric. The tapered waist makes me look skinnier than I already am. But the gauzy, flowing skirt flares out to make my hips look quite impressive.
It’s the most flattering piece of clothing I’ve ever worn. And the striking cloud-white color contrasts with my skin until I almost glow with golden warmth. My hair is still loose around my shoulders, and somehow, that makes the dress look closer to lingerie than I would like.
