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But most of all, she’s wrong about the very last thing she said.
Idowant to go down this road with Kolya. I want everything he’s sworn he’ll never be able to give me for real.
That’s the scariest part of all.
40
JUNE
I pinch my nose to keep the sneeze from blowing through the entire room. But everywhere I turn, there’s another huge arrangement of flowers.
I manage to avoid sneezing on the roses and carnations, only to spray a display of purple orchids that just happened to be my favorite.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!”
The florist just shoots me a polite smile. “Not to worry, dear.” I’m fairly certain her tolerance is a direct result of the fat check Kolya is cutting her and her colleagues for this pre-wedding presentation.
Of course, I’m just guessing here. I haven’t seen Kolya in almost three days. Not since he dropped the bomb on me and then casually strolled out of my room.
A gentleman would have given me some time to process the information and let it sink in. But Kolya proceeded to inundate me with wedding decisions that needed to be made post haste… because the wedding would be taking place in three weeks.
Three. Weeks. Three freaking weeks!
In that time, I have to decide between a dozen different venues and half a dozen different prix fixe menus. I have to pick between a harpist and a string quartet, I have to choose place settings, themes, lighting.
And of course, flowers.
Which brings us back to the sneezing.
This might be a fake wedding, but it sure as hell feels real.
“June? Have you made a decision yet?”
I turn to Anette, our wedding planner. For as much as I’ve seen her versus Kolya in the last three days, you’d think she was the one I’m marrying.
“The orchids,” I say, eyeing the purple bouquet with regret. “They might have to be sanitized, though.”
She nods briskly and marks her clipboard. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her without it in hand. I’m genuinely concerned her skin is fusing to it.
“Perfect,” she says. “Great choice.”
Not that I can take her word as gospel. She’s given me seventeen “good choices” so far. I stopped believing her somewhere around number six.
“We should really get going,” she says. “Cake tasting in an hour, and crosstown traffic can be such a nightmare.”
“That’s today?” I’m desperate to get off my feet, although the idea of cake makes my stomach growl with hunger. I haven’t eaten since this morning, and even then, I only managed two pieces of dry toast. My appetite hasn’t been what it was, ever since Kolya’s visit.
“Yes,” replies Anette. “There’s a car waiting out front for you. Text me your decision once the tasting is over, and I’ll organize everything with the baker.”
“Wait—you’re not coming with me?”
“Not this time,” she says, marching towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, darling.”
I sigh and slump forward. I’m exhausted in a way I didn’t know it was possible to be. I feel like a conceited bitch for being worn out by discussions of tulle versus silk, but there’s no mistaking the bone-deep weariness that’s dragging me down to the earth.
But when I feel eyes burning a hole in the side of my head, I jump and yelp with a sudden shot of adrenaline.
“Dammit, Milana!”
