Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 133138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
“Is she gone?” Molly whispers, peeking in from the bathroom.
When I nod, Molly comes in, followed by the rest of the Fab Five. We’ve gotten closer over the last few months, even with being spread all over the globe.
“I thought she’d never leave. No offense, babe, but your mom is a bit of a Momzilla,” Molly informs me.
I laugh. “She’s not that bad.”
Molly tilts her head, glaring at me. “She asked Brittanie, the director of the orphanage, if she could pop into the chapel to see if the stained-glass windows would be a good backdrop for the ceremony.”
“Are they?” I ask, not seeing the issue.
“It was Sunday morning!” Molly shouts and then shrinks, looking at the door like Mom might come back in, find her, and put her to work.
“Oh.”
Molly waves her hand. “Okay, that aside, I have something for you.” She holds up a small bag with tissue paper sticking out the top.
“Should I be worried? It doesn’t buzz, does it?” I ask as I hold it out at arm’s length.
Molly’s laugh does nothing to reassure me. “Open it and find out.”
I dig into the tissue and find a beautiful, delicate circle of blue lace. “Oh, it’s gorgeous. Thank you, Molly.” I sit down, slipping my heel off to pull the garter up my thigh.
“Ooh, la-la,” Beatrice coos. She’s quieter than she used to be, at least around me. But I think the whole competition thing changed her, making her see her own weaknesses. She’s working hard at House Corbin, though, making the most of the opportunity she’s been given and learning from Jacqueline. I’m truly happy for her.
The thick band of blue lace is stark on my pale thigh, and as I slip my heel back on and drop my skirt once more, I feel a bit like I have a sexy secret.
“I want that to stay on through round one, you hear me?” Molly demands.
I feel my cheeks flush, the heat rising even though I’m not exactly embarrassed. I mean, everyone knows what wedding night activities are.
“On that note, here,” Yori says, taking the heat off me. Literally.
I open the small box she hands me to find a pair of combs, the kind you use to style your hair, not manage it. “Oh, Yori, they’re . . . wow.”
She smiles softly. “They are your something borrowed. I wore them for my wedding too. They were my grandmother’s. They will bring you and Simon many years of wedded bliss.”
Beatrice holds up a charm on a small pin. “I didn’t have a chance to wrap it, but I found this at Saint-Ouen to be your something old. I hope you like it.”
“I love it. Thank you.”
Katarina grins, pointing at my Janacova original wedding gown. “I’d say I got you something, but you’re already wearing it.”
I twist a bit, letting the dress swish with the movement.
“I guess that’s everything. Old, new, borrowed, and blue.” It’s something we’ve all agreed to do for one another when the time comes. “Am I ready?”
I let them look me up and down, trusting their educated eyes.
“Perfect,” they all agree.
“Okay, let’s do this.”
I walk down the stairs with my friends, all of whom are standing up with me as bridesmaids.
We line up outside the Corbin Gymnasium wing, the only place large enough for the hundreds of guests we’ve invited. After all, a Corbin is getting married in Paris.
The doors open, and the women walk down the aisle before me. Last but not least, Tobias walks down with Xerxes on a leash. He’s not exactly a flower girl, but we wanted to include him—Xerxes, I mean, not Tobias. Although we would definitely want to include him too.
Since Simon and I have been growing Autumn Fisher Designs, we’ve needed support, and Tobias was happy to move to New York City to work with us. I’m certain that had more to do with his blossoming relationship with Clay than my fashion genius or his friendship with Simon. But double dates with the two of them typically leave Simon and me laughing, so I’m happy with whatever got Tobias to New York.
Mom holds out her elbow, and I thread my arm through hers. “Thanks, Mom.”
“I love you so much, dear. And I am so happy that you are happy.” She’s whispering out the side of her mouth, and I’m listening, but my eyes are trained on Simon.
He’s at the end of the long aisle, his eyes locked on me.
I walk toward him, toward my everything.
Simon
The reception is full of laughter, dancing, and magic. It must be magic because nothing else could bring that big of a smile to my bride’s face.
Autumn is on the dance floor with her bridesmaids. They’re swaying and moving, lifting their hands in the air as they sing along with the music.
“She’s beautiful,” Tristan grunts from beside me. “Congratulations.”