Chapter 16

Vivienne

There is so much to do, I hardly know where to start. I’ve helped clients through weddings, of course, but this is the first time that I’ll be the bride and the PR consultant at the same time. Hopefully, it’ll also be the last.

Really, this should’ve never happened in the first place.

Charles can barely keep up with me as I race along the sidewalk. If I can get to the tailor to make an appointment for David’s tuxedo fitting while we’re out, I can text him the time of the appointment before he leaves to open a new session of parliament. Or is he presenting a citizen with an award?

I can’t remember. But whatever it is, it’s happening later today.

I stop at the tailor’s storefront and wait for Charles to catch up. I peek through the window.

On one side of the store, there’s a small collection of men’s suits that can be custom-made for special events. On the other, there’s an equally elegant collection of evening gowns.

But at the center of the showroom floor, a mannequin is modeling a jaw-droppingly gorgeous wedding dress. My heart flutters at the sight of it.

The dress has a long satin train, an off-the-shoulder neckline, and a fitted bodice that would hug me—I mean, a bride—in all the right places. Considering how expensive this place is, the beading was probably done by hand.

“You’ll need something to wear for the wedding,” a voice says. “Why don’t you try it on?”

I turn around and blush. Charles has caught up to me, and he’s been watching me drool all over this dress.

“I don’t think there’ll be time for that,” I argue half-heartedly. “I need to set an appointment for David first. Then, we’ll need to print the invitations, choose the floral arrangements…” I count the items on my to-do list until I run out of fingers.

“Oh, and in case you forgot, this isn’t even real. These appointments, my errands, are just proof to the press and the people that this is actually happening. Who knows if we’ll actually get to the real event?”

Charles stops me with his hand. “We have an entire staff dedicated to these ‘wedding’ plans.” He actually motions air-quotes with his hand as he says wedding. “But why don’t you let me make the appointment with the tailor? At the same time, you can try this dress on—and maybe a few others as well. Just for fun! I’ll text David the details while you do so.”

“Um…are you sure?” I ask, feeling a tad wary. I’ve always imagined inviting my mother and maybe a friend or two to my dress fitting.

But this isn’t a real wedding, anyway, and Charles has good taste. He’ll know what a royal wedding dress is supposed to look like. Even for a not-so-royal bride.

I owe it to the kingdom to look the part. And I’m sure the press will eat it up.

And who am I kidding? This will be the most fun I’ve had in years. I’m giddy just thinking about it.

I’d never be able to shop here without David’s expense account. I’d also be crazy to turn down a shopping trip like this, even if it’s just for fun. I think my mother would agree.

“Hell, why not! I mean, if you don’t mind doing that. I would love to try on a few dresses,” I tell Charles.

He ushers me into the store, and the staff immediately swarms us, eager to get David’s appointment on the calendar and a pile of dresses in my arms. I walk to the fitting room and settle in, gazing at my reflection in the full-length mirror. The lighting is soft and forgiving—much better than the fluorescent lights where I usually shop.

Once a season, l indulge and purchase a designer handbag or other statement piece so that I can blend in with my wealthy clientele. Like I’ve boasted about before.

But I might not have mentioned that I also pair the bag or accessory with a cheap black dress or a simple skirt in a classic cut that’s unlikely to go out of style. It’s sensible and smart, really. What good businesswoman wouldn’t do that?

And if you think keeping up with the Joneses is difficult, try keeping up with the royal family.

Besides, no one is asking to see my bank statement here. They obviously know who I’m with.

The salesperson helps me slip the billowing skirt over my head and tugs it down. I’m lucky that the sample size is close to my own with the curves that I’ve been blessed with. Though I have to admit, the dress on the showroom floor looks even better on me than it does on the mannequin.

I float out of the dressing room to look at the dress in the larger mirrors outside.

Then, Charles sees me. He gasps. “Why, Vivienne! That wedding gown looks like it was made for you. It’s lovely.”

Is it just me, or are there tears forming in his eyes?

“How about accessories?” I ask. “Do I need a veil? A tiara? I’m not sure what I’m supposed to wear to a royal wedding.”

It’s like I’ve floated out of my body, watching myself lose my grip on reality. I swear, it’s like the magical bridal dust warped my view and now has me believing for a second that this is real.

And damn it, Charles is not helping.

He smiles at me, patiently. “It will be some combination of the two, so let’s start with a couple of different lengths to see what works best with the shape of your face and your gown.”

“Okay. How about this one?” I point to an ivory veil that looks grand but not too frilly. The salesperson gently attaches the veil to my hair with delicate combs, and when I turn around to look at my reflection once more, I start crying, too. “This is beautiful. I love it.”

Charles looks thoughtfully at me before he speaks. “May I be frank with you, Vivienne?”

“When have you not?” I laugh. “What is it?”

My heart is pounding. Is this one of those moments when I’ve misjudged what the royal family considers to be fashionable? Or am I just being crazy? Though I’ve been studying their tastes, how they act, and what their hobbies are for long enough that it’ll be odd if I’m wrong, but shit happens.

I wait for his answer with baited breath.

“Seeing you in this veil makes me wish you two really do get married.”

I turn red with embarrassment. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better…or look less ridiculous right now.”

Charles shakes his head. “It’s not my job to make you or anyone else feel better. My loyalty is with the King.”

He stands beside me and adjusts my veil so that it flows over my shoulders.

“I see how he looks at you,” he continues. “And in this gown, the whole world will see what he sees.”

“Do you really think so?” I look at my reflection and try to see myself as a Queen, but all I see is a commoner in a Queen’s wedding dress.

Charles gives me a fatherly smile. “Don’t tell David I told you this, but I think you two are more perfect for each other than you realize.”