I puff out my cheeks as she rummages through her makeup bag for a more natural lip. “I wouldn’t say that I’m getting cold feet . . . but I am apprehensive, let’s say.”
She paints my lips with the nude coral tone. Much better. “You don’t have to do this, you know. You can back out now if you want to, run away even. I’ve got your back.”
“Tara, you know I can’t,” I say. “My parents, well, they need this.”
Tara purses her lips and steps back to survey the whole picture. “God, you look gorgeous. Come look.” She maneuvers me in front of the floor-length mirror so I can see myself. “You’re the prettiest bride in the world.”
Dressed in a sleeveless ivory lace gown that hugs my figure before falling loosely to the floor in twirls of tulle, I do look the picture of a bride. Even if I don’t quite feel it. “The nude lip looks much better,” I remark, twisting my head to the side to admire my hair.
Tara, my maid of honor and best friend, adjusts her purple gown and huffs. “Henry is such a manipulative bastard.”
I know instantly what she’s talking about. We’ve had this discussion many times since I first accepted Henry’s proposal. “Hey.” I eye her. “It’s not unusual for a husband to help his in-laws financially.”
My father ended up with expensive medical bills after his chemotherapy a few years ago. He and my mother pay them off little by little, but they won’t have made a dent in the debt by the time they pass. And worrying about the debt falling on my shoulders has made them physically sick numerous times. We do what we can. Henry saw the struggle and promised to help if I married him.
“Yeah, but most men don’t bribe women into marrying them with that,” Tara says pointedly. “I mean, would you have married him if he hadn’t led with that offer?”
I sigh. “No. I mean, I don’t know. Maybe.”
Tara snorts.
“Henry is a good man. He can be kind and affectionate. And he obviously knows how much I care about my parents, that’s a good sign.”
“He’s also a bit of a dick most of the time,” Tara says as she picks at her manicured nails.
“Okay, maybe more often than not,” I mumble. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to help me feel confident in my decision, not try to talk me out of it.”
She grips my shoulders and stares intensely into my eyes. “What kind of a friend would I be if I didn’t have your back? I just want you to be happy, are you going to be happy with Henry?”
“I . . .” I take a slow breath in, “I . . .”
She frowns, “Verity.”
“I need some fresh air,” I say, waving my hand in front of my face like a fan. In less than an hour, I’ll be walking down the aisle towards Henry. I’ll be binding my life to his for the foreseeable future. It’s a lot.
A lot a lot.
Tara ushers me towards the door. “Go outside and get yourself together. I’ll come get you in time for the ceremony, and if you change your mind just text me. I’ll drive the getaway car.”
I flash her a grateful smile as I hurry to the back door leading out of the manor. Henry picked the venue for the ceremony and reception; a beautiful villa on the hills of Connecticut. I peek out the door before I exit, checking to make sure no guests are lurking around, or Henry for that matter. But the way is clear. The villa is a sprawling house with several wings. I picked the most secluded one to keep my big reveal a secret, and to give myself some privacy to think.
Ever since Henry and I became engaged, it’s been wedding this and wedding that. We’ve been sorting through guests lists, budgets, invitations, the legalities of marriage, and even moving. Of course, I’m the only one doing any moving, since Henry has the nicer apartment.
And in New York City, apartments are do or die.
As I climb to the crest of the hill, I feel the true weight of my decision settling on my shoulders. In my fantasies, my perfect man was never Henry. It was the quiet librarian at the New York Public Library that I’ve never talked to before. Or it was the stunning, gentlemanly man who’d helped me catch the taxi that almost drove off with my purse. When you don’t know the man, you can make up any personality you want. Henry doesn’t have many of the qualities of the perfect man.
Of my perfect man.
He’s arrogant, brash, and rude to waiters. But he tips generously anyway. Though I’m not sure if that’s because he is generous, or if he likes to flash his money. An investor and entrepreneur, Henry built up his empire in his early twenties. I’ve been there since the beginning, and we were close at first. But the more successful he became, the more he changed.
The sun is warm on my bare shoulders and the air smells faintly of freshly mown grass and lavender. Behind me, I can hear the sounds of the wedding, conversation, laughter, the tinkling of music. Henry footed the entire bill, with a few contributions from me. As a librarian at an inner-city high school, my salary would never have colored this extravagant affair. But it’s what Henry wanted. And, I’ll admit, it does feel like a fairytale. But I’m not sure if Henry is my prince.
Suddenly, the breeze picks up considerably, sending a chill through me. I wrap my arms around myself, bouquet in hand. The leaves in the nearby oak trees rustle loudly. It sounds like whispering.
I sigh and turn away from the mansion, facing instead towards the city. I can’t see New York from here, but I can imagine it. The gentle park and woods here are so different from the hustle and
