Zoe

The next morning, I sleep in. And it’s heaven in this big comfy bed with thoughts of Graham swimming in my head. Sounds like a Christmas rhyme. What happens next, is exactly what’s in the poem. When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

I look out the window and this can’t be happening. I mean this really can’t be happening. What the Hell? Eleanor has a thingy, an actual wedding thingy, assembled in their backyard. An arch, with white flowers snaking around the frame of the trellis. The only thing missing is the wedding officiant underneath.

I get dressed in a hurry and fly down the stairs.

“What do you think?” she asks as I step outside.

“What is it?” I rub my hands along my arms to warm up.

“Well…” she draws out, “I was thinking why not have the wedding here and now while the family is all together?”

She can’t be serious. I grasp at straws. “I’d want my mother here, so I don’t think that’ll work.”

At that precise moment, Graham steps outside, and like a saint has my winter coat in his hands. He helps slide it over my arms, and then smiles at his mother. “What is this?”

“A wedding. It’s already decided,” his mother exclaims, nodding at me.

My mind can’t comprehend all of this. I glance over at the deer-in-the-headlights look Graham has on his face, waiting for him to step in and explain everything. Or to come up with an excuse as to why we can’t get married this weekend.

He doesn’t. Instead, he strides over confidently to his mother, places a kiss on the top of her head, says, ‘perfect,’ then walks back inside the house.

What the…? Men.

I turn back around to face Eleanor and try to lift my lips. “I love it.”

Ugh, I guess I’ll play along until Graham tells everyone the truth, preferably before my mother shows up.

“You have a lot of explaining to do, Zoe.”

Oh my god. My mother. She’s here. I blink to make sure the petite woman with a dark bob stepping onto the patio isn’t a hallucination. It’s not.

I can tell by the tone of her voice she’s not happy. And why should she be? Her only daughter didn’t even tell her she was getting married.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Eleanor says with a smile, moving around us to go inside.

“Zoe, you’re marrying Graham Steele?” my mom asks, once we’re alone. “I searched him on the internet. How did you end up engaged to a man like that?”

“Mom, it’s a long story. It all just sort of happened.”

I know this is so wrong, and I’m probably going to Hell, but I’m actually beginning to like the lie. I’m kind of believing it too. Just like the kid says in that movie, ‘Oh fudge.’ I decide to sit on my throne of lies a little longer. “I’ll explain everything later. Let’s go inside; it’s cold.”

We step inside to find Eleanor and Lindsey sitting on the couch with a million bridal magazines. Graham is nowhere in sight. And I’m not in the mood to plan a wedding I’ll never get to enjoy. A wedding to a man who doesn’t truly want me. I think it’s this thought that depresses me further.

But, then I remember our deal and plaster on a fake smile, because, let’s be honest...the only way to put on a fake smile is to plaster it on. Right?

I move closer, feigning interest. “Are you looking at dresses?”

“Yes, and this one would look so perfect on you,” Lindsey says, pointing to a form fitting gown with a low back. “Mother knows the owner of Fantasy Dresses, Pierre Von Ludwig. Yes, the Pierre Von Ludwig. And he’s coming...here...today.” Her voice rises on each word.

Eleanor taps away on her phone. “Yes, what’s your dress size? I’m texting him now.”

I tell her my dress size, and then sit on the red wingback chair before my legs give out. Pierre is a legend in the wedding arena. Well, in the famous socialite wedding arena. He designs all the top dresses of all the top brides. Ugh, put it this way, I’m so out of my freaking league here.

There’s no way Graham will let this happen. I just need to pretend until he reappears to fix this.

A few hours later, it’s not fixed, and I stand in the middle of my room, wrapped all in white, looking like a bridal nightmare. That’s basically what I’m in right now. A nightmare.

This just doesn’t feel right anymore.

Flutes of champagne are passed around as everyone waits to see me in the dress Pierre has brought over. Pierre has basically brought the whole store with him. He says it’s because this will be the event of the century because I’m marrying one of the country’s most eligible bachelors. And I haven’t even been able to find that most eligible bachelor anywhere, let alone talk to him.

Hopefully he’s planning our escape.

I close my eyes and count to ten, taking a deep breath for good measure.

It’s like a fairy tale gone rogue. How do I say I love the dresses and not actually have them purchase one?

Lindsey and Eleanor sit like jurors in the high back chairs waiting to judge me in the next greatest creation of Pierre’s. And somehow, Trudy has managed to weasel her way in to this fashion show. She looks disgustingly pleased with the way each dress isn’t the right one.

“You look like a giant snowball,” my mom says in regard to the silk organza mess of madness that I can’t even figure out how to sit in.

Lindsey laughs a little, and Eleanor gives a dismissive shake of her head. “That’s not the one,” she says.

Pierre prances over to his portable rack. “I have another.”

Of course, he does. This is more than a ‘few’ dresses. I’m on my fifth fiasco. Each one more extravagant than the one before. If this were my real wedding, I’d want something simple and elegant, not full and frilly. But, no one listens to me.

I step inside the bathroom with my mom as he hands me another dress.

After mom zips me up, I study myself in the mirror of this makeshift dressing room. I twist and turn, admiring the dress from all angles. This dress is kind of perfect. It’s classy, with art deco beadwork on the bodice. Sometimes less is more, and the drop back ends in a tasteful v.

“It’s stunning,” my mother says to me in the mirror. I can’t believe it’s me in the reflection. I really can’t.

“Oh my,” Lindsey says, when I step out, her eyes shining with excitement.

Eleanor rises from her chair with a smile on her face. “I think it’s perfect.” And then she does something I’m completely not expecting. She turns to Pierre, and says, “We’ll take this one.”

“Wait,” I squeak out, but no one is listening to me. They’re all occupied with a little mini-chaotic party that just erupted the moment Mrs. Steele spoke her approval.

Oh my God, she just bought this dress.

I’m sure this dress is a small fortune, and it’s not a real wedding. I want to say something. I open my mouth to actually do it, until a knock at the door stops me.

“Zoe, are you in there?” It’s Graham. Just the man I need to see.

Lindsey hops up from her chair. “Don’t come in here. It’s bad luck.”

Pierre and Eleanor hurry me back into the bathroom to change, and I do, as fast as possible. I need to talk to Graham. Now. Before I can get to him, the door to the bathroom opens and Trudy steps inside.

“Listen,” she says in a low voice, “we need to talk.”

“I can’t right now,” I say, trying to move around her.

She blocks the door, leaning back against it. “If you marry him, my dad takes his resort.”

“What do you mean?”

“There are things that have been in the works long before you came around.” She eyes me, coldly. “Do you want to be the reason he loses everything? It’s me or the resort. And if you tell him any of this, my father will move hard and swift to take control of it. So you need to stay as far away from him as possible.” Her words slide in my ears and go straight to my heart. “Let’s be real, you’re not one of us anyway.”

“I can definitely see why he doesn’t like you,” I tell her, before nudging her out of the way. This is all fake, and it’s time to get out of the fantasy. No matter how much I want it, Graham and I will never be anything. And it’s time to end the charade.