Vivianne

I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or horrified when I woke up the day of my fake wedding. The countdown to my personal hell started with my alarm going off at 4AM. I took the quickest shower of my life and climbed in the car to head to the venue. 

Luckily at this hour, the usually-packed streets were fairly calm. I had no trouble getting across town to the Manhattan Center, where a flash of my ID at valet got my car parked and myself escorted to the preparation rooms.

As soon as I walked through the door, I was met by a familiar face: Caleb. “Oh honey darling, the day is finally here! Aren’t you so excited?!” He took me by the hand and led me past the balloons and bouquets that had been brought in to decorate the space. I forced a smile and nodded, which only increased his exuberance. “This is your throne, beautiful. Take a seat and we’ll start your transformation!” 

I practically fell into the chair, exhausted from my stupidly early morning. The clock in the mirror announced that it was still a few minutes to six when the stylists began removing the extensions they’d applied last week. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to doze off.

“Looks like the bride needs some coffee, stat!” Caleb’s chipper voice pulled me out of my light nap and I scowled. He merely laughed in response and returned a moment later with a steaming cup. I was dead-set on being miserable this morning, but the rich aroma of the magical bean liquid tugged on my resolve. The warm cup was pleasant between my hands and for a few minutes, I just breathed in the fragrant steam so I wouldn’t burn my mouth. 

Over the next hour I sipped the black, bitter coffee and stared at myself in the mirror. If it had been up to me, the stylists could have left the original extensions in and saved themselves thirty minutes of work. I watched the delicate braids and loops be formed and the seemingly endless bobby pins disappear into my hair until the style had been achieved again. 

“Do you need a break before we start the makeup, queen?” Caleb asked, and I nodded. I was dying for a few minutes to myself without the chatter of the stylists telling me how beautiful I was going to be today. As if I cared about being beautiful on a standard day!

After a bathroom break, a pair of bite-sized cream puffs from the snack table, and a rant text to Analise, I returned to the chair. The hair stylists swapped out for the makeup crew and I resigned myself to another hour or so of primping. 

But this time, I didn’t get a nap or a cup of coffee to help the time pass. Instead, the mousy face and shrill voice of the wedding planner demanded my attention. She stood two feet behind me with a violently pink clipboard clutched in her matching talons. “Hair, check. Makeup, check. Make sure you seal that makeup properly so it remains perfect for the ceremony. And when you put on the dress, you better not get any makeup on it. We don’t have time for drycleaning before the ceremony.” 

I felt like Annie had missed her real calling: A military drill sergeant. Each ‘yes ma’am’ I was forced to utter made me angrier. This was supposed to be ‘my big day,’ right? So why was I being bossed around like a first-day intern?! 

“As soon as you get the dress on and your hair and makeup double-checked, not a morsel will pass your lips until the luncheon. Not a drop of water or a crust of bread. Your lipstick has to stay perfect. And don’t lick your lips or touch your face, either.” 

I couldn’t imagine that any bride would purposefully hire an absolute taskmaster! Dominic had to have put her up to this. I bet he wanted to make this day even more miserable than it already was. He knew how I like to be in charge, and took it all away. But guess what, buddy? Nothing he did would turn me into a submissive little wife to flaunt for the media.

“The photographer will be here any minute. Make sure to smile. These are the photos you’ll be looking at when you and Mr. Voss are old and grey, remember. You want them to be perfect.” 

That word. I was so sick of that word! And the only time I’d be looking at those photos was when I printed them out so I could burn them and grind their ashes into the dirt. But I did my one theater class back in college proud and nodded ‘eagerly.’ I could get through this. 

My face slowly took shape in the mirror until that magazine bride stared at me again. I stared back and decided this was her wedding, not mine. Silly mental gymnastics, I know, but it still made me feel the tiniest bit better. 

The photographer arrived just as the final touches were being applied to my makeup. “Just pretend I’m not even here,” he instructed, though that was easier said than done. He clung to us like a paparazzo, taking pictures of everything from the extravagant (and useless) decorations, to my toes as they were being painted. 

It was a relief to step into the small side room and get a little privacy to put on the dress. Yes, I still had an assistant, but at least I was away from the camera. She already had the dress unzipped and ready for me to climb inside. It never touched my head, so hopefully I wouldn’t have to endure any more time at the hair and makeup station. 

She helped me into my shoes, attached the veil to my hair, and opened the door. I was greeted by the snap, snap, snap sound of the photographer’s camera, so I did my best to look excited. 

Caleb scurried over with a brightly wrapped package, grinning like a cat with a milk moustache. “You have a gift from the groom!” He held out the box and I accepted it, inwardly groaning. What else had Dominic cooked up?

I tore open the paper to find a plain white box, which contained a velvet jewelry box. And inside the jewelry box was a gold necklace. The pendant was a delicate rose with our initials carved into the leaves, along with the date. Caleb let out a little squeak and plucked the necklace from the box. “Isn’t that the cutest?! Let’s get that around your neck, Mrs. Voss!” 

“Not yet I’m not.” The words slipped out, but Caleb only gave me a wink and stepped around my back to clip the chain. It was the perfect length for the pendant to settle right in the space between my breasts. 

More wasted money. I swear, if this stunt didn’t earn back every penny Dominic wasted on it, the difference would be taken from his own pocket.

“Look, there’s a note as well!” Caleb handed me a piece of what looked like origami paper, brightly colored on the outside and white on the inside. I opened it cautiously, holding it close in case he’d written anything that shouldn’t be shared with the room. 

My dearest Vivianne,

I can hardly believe that this day has finally come. From the moment our eyes first met, I’ve dreamed of meeting you at the altar to give you my name. You already have my heart, my future, and my life. I can hardly wait to give you everything else.

Your adoring groom,

Dominic Voss

It took everything in me not to gag dramatically at his antics. Did this qualify as romance? I felt like it did. Though I could hear his voice in my head insisting ‘it’s acting, Viv. You should try it!’

I forced myself to smile and tucked the note back into the box where I would never read it again. “He’s so sweet.” 

“You’re such a lucky woman! Let’s get you to your place. The wedding begins in about ten minutes!” Caleb grabbed my hand and dragged me into the hallway, around the corner, and through a set of doors. 

I could hear the low hum of conversation coming from the door in front of me, and the edge of a red rug peeking beneath. My stomach knotted as the reality of what I was about to do hit me. I leaned against the wall and took deep breaths to fight back the sudden nausea that threatened to consume me. 

“Ah, looks like the nerves have hit, huh kiddo?” 

I whirled around, coming face to face with my Uncle Randy standing there in a tuxedo. “What are you doing here?” I sputtered, shocked. He opened his arms and I ran into them, remembering at the very last moment not to bury my face in his broad chest. 

“Well, someone had to escort you down the aisle. And since your dad isn’t able to, obviously I had to take his place. Dominic made sure I had all the details.” 

Tears began to well up in my eyes, and Uncle Randy pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. “Don’t ruin your makeup, Vivvy.” He softly dabbed the corners of my eyes and gave me a squeeze. He was nearly a foot taller than me and his chest was broad, so when he hugged me, he blocked out the entire world. I breathed in the scent of motor oil and spice, and my muscles relaxed. 

“That’s my girl. Sounds like it’s time.” Music began playing loudly in the next room and the doors swung open. I was anything but ready, but with Uncle Randy supporting me, I began my slow progression down the aisle.