Wicked Snow

A Bride in Black

While Sarah was out looking for a new dress, Kingsley knocked on the dressing room door. I had changed out of the ghastly wedding dress and was wearing a big fluffy robe, so at least he wasn't breaking tradition by seeing his bride in her wedding dress before the actual wedding. I couldn't care less about traditions like that though, when the marriage was doomed from the get go.

“I’m here to sign the contract,” he told me when I let him in, gesturing to the pages in his hand.

“Okay, great,” I replied. “Have you read through it?” I asked, hoping he didn’t have any issues with it.

“I did, and I didn’t find anything unreasonable,” he replied, taking his pen out of his suit pocket in preparation to sign it.

“Awesome,” I said happily, relieved he was making things easy.

We signed all of the papers in silence, and to an outsider it would look like nothing more than business. I guess in his mind that was exactly what it was– just another business deal.

“Thank you for signing them,” I told him with a sincere smile. It made me feel so much more in control, knowing that he had legally agreed to all my terms.

“Just remember our arrangement,” he said meaningfully, referring to our truce and my promise not to bring up his previous wife or upset his daughter.

I nodded in understanding, showing that I remembered the conditions of our agreement of peace.

“I’ll see you in about an hour,” he said drily. “Don’t be late.”

“I’ll be there,” I said with as much conviction as I could muster.

With that, he left the room, leaving the signed contract with me to do with as I pleased. I packed them into the large handbag I had brought to the church with me, vowing to make a copy of it as soon as I got the chance. I waited patiently for Sarah to get back, all the while wondering how Kingsley would react to a black wedding dress. I felt kind of bad for not warning him or telling him what to expect when I walked into the church, but then again, he was one of the two men responsible for me having to marry someone I didn’t love. He had played just as big a role as my father, so he could deal with my symbol of rebellion.

The dress that Sarah came back with minutes later was a beautiful off-the-shoulder mermaid dress that clung sexily to my upper body, hips and thighs before flowing gracefully to the floor. It was the exact opposite of the Disney princess-wannabe dress that my father’s assistant had picked out. The black dress showed off some of my cleavage, but only a tasteful amount, and the best part was that it didn’t clash with the locket around my neck. Instead, the gold locket with the red gemstone at its center seemed to tie the whole outfit together.

We kept my hairstyle the same because it worked so well with the dress. Sarah had curled my shoulder length hair into a classic vintage style that reminded me of Marilyn Monroe. To finish off the new look though, Sarah had painted my lips bright red.

“Damn, Grace,” Sarah said with a huge grin. “You look sexy as hell.”

“Where did you manage to find this on such short notice?” I asked her, staring in awe at the dress that hugged my curves so perfectly.

“Don’t laugh, but I literally just ran into the first store I could find,” she said with an amazed chuckle. “Fate seemed to be on your side for once,” she added with a sad smile.

“My father is going to freak when he says me in this dress,” I said with a little too much relish. He wanted a wedding that the press would talk about, and that was exactly what I was going to do– give them something to talk about.

“Speaking of which, it’s time,” Sarah sighed out. “Are you ready for this?” she asked, squeezing my shoulder reassuringly.

“I don’t think I could ever be ready for this,” I admitted with a nervous swallow. I had always naturally assumed I would get married to someone I loved, and I never expected to be getting married at the age of twenty. I felt way too young for marriage, not to mention not at all in love with the man who would be waiting for me at the altar. It was depressing to think that even if I fell in love with someone and married them after divorcing Kingsley, I would never get my first wedding back. When I eventually got to walk down the aisle toward the man I loved, it would be dulled by the fact that I had done it all before.

“I’ll be there with you, okay,” Sarah tried to comfort me. “You don’t even have to look at that bastard Kingsley when you walk up the aisle,” she said with a forced smile. “Look at me instead.”

“Yes, marrying you would definitely be preferable,” I teased her, only I wasn’t really joking. She would make a better spouse than Kingsley, because at least I genuinely liked her.

“If I were gay, I would definitely get some of this,” she joked, slapping my ass none to gently.

“Wouldn’t life be so much easier if we really were lesbians?” I mused. “Men are such pigs.”

“Let’s make a deal then,” she said meeting my gaze head-on. “If we’re both single by the time we’re forty, we’ll give it a go.” Her gaze was unwavering and serious.

I narrowed my eyes in thought, wondering if I could ever be with a woman. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not, but if not then you have a deal,” I told her with a devilish grin. After my experience with them, I was seriously starting to wonder if there were any decent men out there.

“Hah, I knew you were into me,” she said wiggling her eyebrows at me suggestively.

“You’re such a weirdo,” I chuckled, again surprised at how Sarah could lift me out of such a bad mood.

It was too bad that I would be spending the next two weeks in Paris, on my honeymoon, without her to keep me from going crazy. I had to admit though, even if I had had no say in where Kingsley and I would be spending our honeymoon, Paris was exactly the kind of place I had always wanted to travel to. My father had travelled to cities across the globe for his business, but my mom and I had never been invited to go along with him. It would be my first time outside the US and I was both dreading and looking forward to it.

"Let's do this s**t," I said bluntly, resigned to the fact that it was happening.

As expected, when we walked out the dressing room and into the antechamber my father's eyes practically bugged out when he saw what I was wearing. I could practically smell the smoke coming from his flared nostrils. He said nothing though because we were surrounded by bridesmaids and he couldn't very well scream at me in front of them all. Small mercies I suppose.

Gasps sounded as the girls in the wedding party turned to see the bride. They looked downright horrified at the picture I presented. I knew none of them, but I decided I didn't care to ever get to know them based on the way they clutched their imaginary pearls and stared at me like I had killed their dogs or something equally as horrendous.

One of them stepped forward to hand Sarah and I our flower bouquets. The pale pink and white flowers contrasted beautifully with the darkness of my dress. "Black was a... bold choice," she said diplomatically, eyeing my dress like it was about to grow teeth and bite her. Judging by her young age, she was probably a niece or possibly a young cousin of Kingsley’s.

"She's wearing black in honor of her mother," my father explained with ease, finding a way to take my defiance and rebellion and turn it into something it wasn't.

My mother would want no part in that day's events, so honoring her by wearing black was not what I had in mind.

"Oh honey, that's really sweet of you," one of the bridesmaids said, and the rest of them hummed their agreement.

Just then music began to play from inside the church and I was saved from having to respond. The bridesmaids quieted immediately and ordered themselves into a small line to enter the church. Sarah took her place at the back like I had asked her to. It was the spot that the maid of honor was meant to fill, and even though there had been no bachelorette party or even an engagement party to plan, she had done everything else I needed her to.

Someone opened the doors from inside the church and one by one my supposed bridesmaids went through the door. I couldn’t see them from where I was standing away from the doors, but they must have been joined by a groomsman as they walked into the church. Soon enough, Sarah was the one walking through the doors, but whereas the other women had put on a smile, she left her face blank, clearly unwilling to fake joy for a marriage she knew was a disgrace.

“You couldn’t just wear the f*****g white dress?” my father hissed quietly when it was just the two of us.

“Like you said father, I’m just paying my respects to my mom,” I replied coolly. “Besides, you said you would drag me down the aisle kicking and screaming if need be. Well, this is me kicking and screaming,” I said with a smirk.

“You’re just embarrassing yourself now Grace,” he replied with a disgusted sneer. “You’ll be a f*****g laughing stock with that dress plastered all over magazines.”

“You say it like I should care, but I don’t give a damn what the press has to say about me,” I responded.

“Everyone cares what people think of them Grace,” he said as the wedding march began to play. “It’s just human nature.”

“Well it’s definitely in your nature,” I muttered in irritation.

He grabbed my arm roughly, linking our arms together tightly for him to walk me down the aisle. “Shut your mouth and don’t mess this up,” he warned me, leading me toward the open doors.

The church was cavernous, but almost all the pews were filled with guests, a good chunk of them being photographers and reporters though. Titters and hushed whispers filled the church as the guests took in my unconventional dress, but I didn't give a damn. My gaze automatically found Kingsley’s, wanting to see the man I was about to marry against my will. His eyes were wide in surprise at my gown, and they quickly narrowed in annoyance. I’m sure ‘Bride in Black’ wasn’t quite the headline or story he had been aiming for.

Deciding to follow Sarah’s advice, I moved my gaze to her. Only instead of the comfort I was hoping for, I found only pity in her eyes. Hating what I saw there, I looked back to my near-husband, who had fixed his expression of displeasure and put on his fake smile for the sake of the press and the guests.

When we reached the altar, my father ‘gave me away’ to Kingsley, but made sure to squeeze my hand way too firmly before he let go, reminding me that he was in control. I turned to Kingsley, wishing more than anything that I could just run out and leave all of it behind me, but knowing that I had no choice but to stay and go through with the ceremony. My future husband stood across from me, but all I felt when the priest started speaking, was defeat.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate…”