Page 3 of D’Vaughn and Kris Plan a Wedding

Facing the direction from which the noise level came, I hesitated, causing Kevin to chuckle.

“I promise you that no one in there will bite you.”

Lifting a brow, I turned to him with pursed lips. “How can you be so sure?”

“We ran extensive background checks on each of you,” he informed me, a somber look on his face. “No one was a biter back in elementary school.”

Throwing my head back, I busted out laughing and he shot me a wink. In five short minutes, Kevin had managed to eradicate more than half of the nerves plaguing me, and I suddenly felt more at ease than I had all day. It was almost enough for me to forget about the man standing seven feet away, capturing our entire exchange.

“Okay,” I conceded with a nod of my head. “I’ll take your word for it.”

He nodded toward the hall and, without saying another word, I took a deep breath, smoothed my hands down the front of my dress, and headed toward the noise. The sound of laughter erupted just before I entered the living room of the condo and I was grateful that just about everyone’s attention was focused on the teller of the joke instead of the doorway that I had walked through.

The great room of the condo was divided in half, with a sleek, chrome-filled kitchen to the left, and a sunken living room decorated with a stylish leather sectional on the right. Cameras on tripods sat beneath boxed lights in each corner of the room, and two people dressed in all black circled the space while carrying cameras with furry microphones mounted on top on their shoulders. In the living room were six people standing in a semicircle, deep in conversation. They stood against one side of the room, next to one of the three large windows that overlooked the busy streets below, with the lit baseball stadium towering over residential and commercial buildings just a few blocks away. Nearly everyone in the group held a glass in their hands, and I decided that was a smart move. Holding a drink would not only occupy my hands, but it would give me a reason to speak as little as possible.

There was an island in the kitchen with an under-mount sink and an eye-catching graphite countertop that currently doubled as a wet bar. It was covered with a cluster of glassware, an assortment of alcohol, a bucket full of ice, and several mixers and accompaniments. Shooting a cursory glance at the group of people on my right, I noticed one of the cameras swing toward me and hooked a mean left, heading straight for the island, and filled a ten-ounce tumbler with Jameson, chilled ginger ale, and a couple cubes of ice. I forced myself not to look up.

“Remember to act natural,” Cinta had reminded me as she helped me get ready for tonight. It was so much easier said than done.

Clutching the edge of the counter, I took a fortifying sip from my lowball glass, allowing the crisp bubbles from the soda to coat my throat before I deigned to face the other people in the room. According to the paperwork I’d received, there would be a total of five couples this season, so it was likely that one of the six people already present would be my fiancée for the next six weeks. It probably wouldn’t do me any good for my first impression to be that of a wallflower. Taking a breath, I girded my loins and moved across the room, being careful when descending the short flight of stairs into the living room. The absolute last thing I needed was to face-plant onto the gorgeous cherrywood floors.

I approached the group at a snail’s pace, feigning as if I didn’t want to spill my drink, but stalling until the last possible second. With my eyes over the rim of my glass, I observed the group. All eyes seemed to be on one woman who looked to be thriving under the attention. She was tall, with long pink hair that looked like it grew out of her scalp as it framed her mahogany-toned face and hung down to her waist. Cinta would have drooled over a wig so beautiful. A white bodycon dress molded to her substantial curves, curves that put mine to shame and made my heart flutter with joy at the same time. I’d fully expected to be the biggest person on the show this year, but whoever this woman was blew that theory into the stratosphere. Seeing another undeniably fat woman warmed my soul and made me tip an invisible hat to this season’s producers.

The woman tossed her hair over her shoulder and lifted the wine goblet she held into the air. “We need to toast to Instant I Do finally gaying up the show!”

The group burst out laughing, and everyone raised their drinks into the air, knocking their glasses against one another in a ripple of clinks. Lifting my glass to my mouth, I giggled softly. I agreed wholeheartedly with her sentiment, and had said as much in my audition video. To my surprise, her eyes flitted over to me and she pursed her artfully painted lips, a playful look in her brown eyes, which were framed by thick lashes.

“Oh, no, ma’am! There is no way you’re going to hide your gorgeous self over there, honey.” Breaking the circle, she crossed the living room, her six-inch heels clacking elegantly against the hardwood floors as she made a beeline for me. Wrapping a hand around my wrist, she tugged me over into the circle.

All eyes were on me, and I knew without looking that at least one camera was likely zooming in on my face which was quickly growing hot with embarrassment. The last thing I’d expected was to have the attention of everyone present. In fact, it was something I had planned to actively avoid.

“Everyone,” the woman announced to the small crowd, “we have a new arrival.”

Lifting my drink in lieu of waving, I smiled and offered a lame “Hi.”

The pink-haired woman turned to me. “What’s your name, honey?”

“D’Vaughn.”

“Nice to meet you, D’Vaughn. I’m Diamond.”

“Hi, Diamond,” I responded, a smile creeping onto my face. Diamond’s energy was so infectious that it seemed impossible to not smile when around her.

Glancing around the circle, I found nothing but friendly faces smiling back at me. I received waves and greetings in return, continuing the job of putting me at ease that Kevin’s friendliness had started. By the time we were all introduced, I felt immensely more relaxed.

“Miss D’Vaughn,” Diamond began, stepping back to eye me from head to toe. “I gotta say, you are wearing this mint-green dress, honey!”

Smiling, I dipped my head and murmured, “Thank you.”

A couple of people chimed in to agree, and my face warmed all over again. The short-sleeved, A-line dress with sweetheart neckline cinched at my waist before flaring out down to my knees. Cinta had made it for me as a celebration gift after I submitted my audition video, and when I’d tried it on there hadn’t been a doubt in either of our minds that it accentuated my best assets. I took a sip of my drink, trying to think of a way to shift the conversation away from me, but before I finished my thought, loud speaking interrupted me.

“Aye! Party over here!”

Following the shout, we all turned toward the entryway as two people appeared. As I laid eyes on them, I involuntarily sucked in a breath, swallowing liquid down the wrong hole. Of course, I began coughing, bringing everyone’s attention right back to me. I could have melted into the floorboards.

“I’m fine,” I wheezed, waving everyone off as I tottered back into the kitchen to grab a handful of napkins.

Turning my back on the rest of the room, I tried—and failed—to clear my throat as quietly as possible. I was wondering how much worse things could get when a hand came to my back just as a cold bottle of water was pressed against my left palm. Gratefully, I closed my eyes and sipped from the bottle, sighing with relief when my cough slowly ebbed away. When I felt like I could breathe without choking, I sighed and turned to the kind soul who’d helped me, thanks already forming on my lips. The words died, however, when I found the very person who’d caused me to start choking in the first place.