by Xavier Neal
We have lunch at a cute café that only serves sandwiches, something that immediately gets me thinking about the first time Beni ever exposed his laid-back nature to me. The thoughts have me requesting stories from Gia about his childhood, and she’s happy to oblige us with adorable tales. Between unwinding and eating, I’m sent pictures of our cake. Our dessert stations. Miko “sampling” everything they’ll let him put into his mouth for appetizers and dinner options. Photos of décor, our band, and floral arrangements flood the thread at an impressively paced rate, one that informs me letting him do all of that was the right decision.
It also makes me smile that he really is working on the wedding like he took the day off to specifically do.
Weardeville is the last stop of our outing and the most unexpected.
When I think of wedding dress shopping, my head goes straight to Say Yes to the Dress commercials I’ve seen. My mind immediately starts thinking about budgets and the number of brides who are conned into spending more than I’m sure they ever intended, yet my best friend has the exact audience intended response. She gushes about lace and tulle and trains. Before we walked in here, I pretty much set my brain to be prepared for that; however, I’ve been caught off guard more than once.
There’s no dramatic over the top arguments about what I should wear.
What I shouldn’t wear.
What’s too traditional or not traditional enough.
No one complains about cuts or colors.
No one gets an attitude with anyone else about not being heard because someone else won’t shut up.
All of the television theatrics are non-existent.
Kristal and her identical twin sister, Kristine are basically bridal surgeons. They use their strengths to approach the entire situation with so much ease it feels like two more friends have joined us for shopping versus women trained to assist you in purchasing something you plan to only wear once.
Kristine spends the majority of her time with Gia and Felia. They drink and browse. Giggle. Reminisce on their wedding days.
Kristal focuses on me yet doesn’t push for me to try on anything I don’t want to.
She doesn’t remind me of how I’ve only given three dresses a chance.
She doesn’t insist Cerise talks less about what she’ll, inevitably, look good in or redirect the attention my way.
She simply plays the game of patience.
And, the pressure-less approach has me believing Beni definitely picked the right place for me to find something.
“Is a tiara too much?” Cerise asks while admiring her reflection in the jewelry counter mirror. “Should only the bride wear a tiara? What about a dangling diamond headpiece so that I don’t pull focus from you?”
Yeah, because a random hunk of jewelry hanging in the middle of your forehead would be less distracting than something that belongs on a princess.
“I guess the real question is do you want my hair up or down? Half and half? You know I’m not a fan of that but for you…,” her face turns to mine to showcase a smirk, “and your special day, I’d grin and bear it.”
I lean against the glass case she’s standing behind. “No preference.”
“None?”
An immediate headshake is given.
Curiosity coats her eyes prior to her asking, “Have you had any preferences for this wedding?”
“Not many.”
“But some?”
“A couple.”
Her freshly waxed brows twitch in worry. “Do you…Do you even wanna get married? You don’t seem…excited by any of this shit. I mean, I don’t think anyone, outside of a highly trained cast of overpaid actors, could be nearly as excited as I am considering this may be the only time I walk down an aisle – you’ve met my brothers, no one in their right minds would ever marry them – so I’m not expecting my level of hysteria but…I don’t know.” She folds her arms across her chest. “I guess I just expect more than this.” Cerise’s chin motions my direction. “What’s going on?”
“I…” my eyes cut the ground a brief glance, “I guess…I guess it’s hard to be excited, all things considered.”
She bores her stare into mine to encourage me to keep talking.
“I never really saw myself getting married before Beni. I didn’t exactly date a lot-”
“Not for lack of me trying to make you.”
There’s a tiny smile twitching prior to me continuing, “And, the few times I thought about doing this, I damn sure never imagined I’d be pregnant when it happened.”
“Dibs on Godmother.”
My head tilts sarcastically to the side. “Is that necessary? Who the fuck else would I ask?”
“Just in case Mr. Bennett goes all high and dictatory and tries to appoint someone else.” She lets a bright smirk pierce her expression. “Dibs.”
A small giggle is attached to my nodding.
“Is it just the fact you’re gonna be walking down the white carpet with a round stomach and you’re afraid how that’s gonna look in pictures? Because, trust me when I say, we can hide that shit with a massive bouquet and never look back.”
Not sniggering at her comments is practically impossible. “It’s a little bit of that and the fact I thought it’d go wedding and then baby.” The last bit of truth creeps out in a much lower tone. “I also hate the fact my dad’s not gonna be there.”
Her expression falls.
“He’s not gonna be there to see me all dressed up. He’s…he’s not gonna be there to walk me down the aisle.” This time tears thoughtlessly collect in my throat and eyes alike. “He’s not gonna be there to meet his grandchild…” I fight like hell to stop them from falling. “I guess…I guess it’s just hard to be excited about a life without him in it.”
She quickly winds her arms around me to provide the hug I need.
I didn’t allow her to be there for me after I was kidnapped.
I didn’t allow her to be a part of the healing process, despite how much she wanted to.
When I shut everyone out, it included her.
This is the first time since the engagement weekend from hell that we’ve really spent time together. And, while it’s been fun playing tourist and eating like the calories don’t matter, this is what I needed most of all.
Cerise to know I still need her.
That she’ll always be needed.
That she’s still my best friend, no matter the distance or how long we’re apart.
I give her a squeeze on a tear-shedding sniffle.
“It’s gonna sound trite as fuck,” she softly whispers, “but he’ll always be here with you, Chantal. He’s your guardian angel.” Her fingers give my back a soothing stroke. “Even if you don’t believe in that sort of thing, I know you can feel his presence is still here. I know you can still picture his smile when you see a hot Latina piece.”
There’s no stopping the strange sound of a sob and snorted laugh that comes from me.
“You can still hear his voice tell your ass to put down that pen and go live your life.” Cerise leans back so our eyes can lock. “He may be physically gone, but you know as well as I do, he’s still very much here. That he’ll always be here. You just have to…learn to adapt to having him around in a new way and learn that that’s okay.”
Her words are exactly what I needed to hear.
He’s not gone.
He’s just with me in a different way.
I have to…learn to connect to him in a different way.
I loathe having lost him in a physical sense – for that, those bitches will feel the pain I am feeling – but being reminded he’s still here in a spiritual one, provides ease I needed.
I needed to hear from someone else who knew him and cares about me, that it’s okay to acclimate to living with him in a different capacity.
Dad would want me to adapt.
He was about that as much as he was about making every day count.
Hell, that’s how you learn to make every day count.
“No.”
She smiles and releases me from her hold. “Okay, but what about the dress?”
Drinking in the one sleeve champagne gold, floor length gown that has a high flirty slit up the leg is proceeded by a nod of approval. “Perfect.”
“Well, that takes care of me,” my best friend happily announces. “What do you say, you let Kristal finally do her job and take care of you?”
Our stares swing to where she’s lingering on the other side of the counter waiting to put away the diamonds Cerise has cloaked herself in.
She pulls her pitch-black hair to one side of her face and presents me with a friendly smile. “If you’re ready to try on more gowns, I think I have a couple ideas you might really love.”
“Hit me with your best shot.”
Cerise immediately starts singing the song at the top of her lungs, collecting the eyes of my future in-laws. To my surprise, they join in on the crooning, knowing more words than I would’ve anticipated and help put on a performance so entertaining that neither Dario nor the team assisting him can hold in their laughter.
After Kristal de-jewels my best friend, she escorts me over to the dressing area I had been using before. We go inside unaccompanied by the other guests, an action not loved by Cerise, but a sting Gia helps soothe by pouring her another glass of a champagne that’s been stirring up my gag reflex all afternoon.
“You are free to be as open and honest as you want in here,” Kristal sweetly insists. “I will not judge you for anything you say or think. And, I won’t be offended if you hate my choices or decide you would rather shop somewhere else.”
Her statement drops my jaw.
“This whole experience is meant to be fun and meaningful and about love. Not the price tag or what store won your business by being the best at schmoozing.” She slips her hands into her black pants suit pockets. “I know how crazy that sounds, considering I need people to buy stuff here to keep the lights on, but…,” a small shrug bounces her shoulders, “that’s just not how we operate. It’s never how me and my sister or anyone in my family has done business. We prefer to be in the business of people. We prefer to provide you a positive, safe place for your dreams to manifest whatever they may be.”
God, how is it with every passing sentence she speaks I feel calmer and calmer?
Hypnotism?
Is she secretly a licensed hypnotist?
“Are we on the same page?”
There’s no reluctance to nod.
“Good.” Her head angles to one side at the same time she questions, “Tell me something you don’t see yourself ever wearing.”
“An oversized ball gown.” I promptly shake my head. “That whole huge fluffy thing that basically makes you look like you robbed Cinderella. Not for me.”
She snickers on a nod. “Anything else?”
“I don’t want a tail.”
“You mean a train?”
“That either.”
Kristal smiles yet again. “Alright. Is that it?”
“I think so…”
“Okay,” she saunters over to the displayed pieces causing my body to turn to follow. “The good news is none of those things are in this room.”
My eyes light up in excitement.
“Everything I have lined up here has more of a flowing or free vibe if you will.” Her hand gestures towards the gowns. “Between your state of pregnancy and how soon your wedding is, getting you in something that makes you feel comfortable, without sacrificing beauty based on a tight turnaround for alterations, makes those more viable options.” She hits me with another polite grin. “However, if you hate everything in here or the styles, you are free to say that. I’m here to be a guide, not a drill sergeant.”
I acknowledge the declaration with a smirk and another nod of comprehension.
The first dress I’m put into has a deep cut neckline, that if I weren’t pregnant, I would adore. It cuts too close to my stomach and leaves me feeling much more exposed than I want the world to see.
Her next choice has an ancient Greek goddess vibe to it. It’s flowy and sleeveless. Boho style yet still elegant. As much as I adore it and how I feel in it and the responses from those here to support me, there’s something missing. Whatever it is, is obvious to Kristal by the way she insists we move on.
“I’ve got another dress lined up over there,” she slowly states back in the changing area, “but…how do you feel about…something…less conventional than what we’ve explored so far?”
I turn her direction to display my intrigued expression.
“Most brides want…the bridal vibe that’s been sold time and time again.”
“What are you trying to sell me?”
“Nothing.” Her smirk is mischievous. “I’m simply trying to unlock the love you share with Mr. Bennett and reflect it.”
“You’ve met him?”
“When he came in to survey the store for security reasons and rent it out for you.”
I drop a hand on my hip while shaking my head. “He was pushy, wasn’t he? He’s always so fucking pushy.”
“He was…intense.”
There’s a word for him.
“But you mean everything to him, Chantal. It was obvious in his eyes, even when he was glaring. He just wanted the best for the woman he’s deemed the best.”
Again…
Her and her damn way with words.
Could I have her write my vows for me?
Would that be weird?
“I have this gut feeling your love story started in an untraditional way and has progressed in the same fashion.”
Nodding is instant.
“What about something that combines that with your desire to feel comfortable, your baby body being protected, all the while feeling like you’re the most unique and beautiful woman in the room?”
“Why didn’t you start there?!”
Kristal giggles, insists she’ll be right back, excuses herself from the area.
Her short return is accompanied by something very unpredicted.
Skepticism must be as clear as day on my face.
“You can say no, but…you might be surprised once it’s on.”
Trusting her, I slip out of the current dress and into the two piece she’s brought me. The top half is an ivory color body suit. It’s long sleeved and lace. There’s tightness at my tits pushing them upward yet less restraint on my stomach. Slipping it on unassisted is probably my favorite thing with the low-cut back being the next. The bottom is a champagne gold, long, tulle skirt that sits perfectly at my waist without severe constriction. Kristal explains the elasticity allows it to grow as I grow and the fact that it’s in two pieces gives me the power to shift how I want the attention on my stomach.
Power.
Control.
Beauty.
For the first time since the process started, I not only feel like I’m okay with the world continuing to spin, but like I’m on top of it.
Like I own it.
Like I reign over it.
Like I belong at Benicio’s side.
Kristal sweetly gestures to the showcasing area. “Wanna go show your family?”
Hearing her call them that threatens to pull tears to my eyes.
That’s exactly what they are.
Maybe I no longer have those that share DNA with me, but that’s not all it takes to make you a family. Your family are those that are there for you when you need them. Nurse you back to health. Help give you the tools to take care of yourself. They provide consoling when you need it and pep talks when you think you don’t. You fight. You argue. You make up and move on because you know every day you want them in your life, and they want you in theirs.
They’re the ones at your side for the good and the bad.
The funeral and the wedding.
I may have lost the last blood relative I had, but I still have a family.
My fu
ture child still has a world of people ready to love him or her.
People who love me.
It may be a bit unconventional or not the type of family that’s for everyone – like my wedding attire – but it’s the one that fits me.
One that I love.
And, it’s the one I’m grateful I get to have until death parts us.
Chapter 19
The things I love about my fiancé by far outweigh the ones that make me wish I could jab my pen in his eye; however, at this very moment, his shitty, selfish behavior has the scales tipping in the other direction.
Something tells me he’d be more pissed off about the ink that got on his pristine, caramel-colored jacket than he would be missing an eye.
He’d probably just buy a Tom Ford or Markay eye patch and continue on with business as normal.
“Benicio,” I attempt to speak up from the seat I was sequestered in the back of the SUV so that they could discuss business on the ride home from the private airstrip.
“In un attimo,” he thoughtlessly brushes me off, again, to continue arguing with Miko. “I don’t give a fuck if they all want meetings this week before dinner on Thursday. It is not going to happen. I will not take their calls.”
“Capo-”
“No. I will not be budging on this. We will continue to move their product how it’s been moved and what is scheduled to be moved while charging them the increased fee for service.”
“And, what do you expect me to tell them that increased fee is for? Asshole tax?”
“I don’t give a fuck what you tell them.”
“Sei troppo semplice.”
You are being too simple.
“Non è così complicato.”
It's not that complicated.
“This whole shit,” Miko twirls his finger in front of Benicio, “feels really fucking familiar.” His expression hardens on a head tilt. “You thought it would be that easy to just do what you wanted then, and we’re still paying for the backlash of that shit now.”
“No,” my fiancé viciously smirks, “they’re paying for it. Payment will continue the way I see fit until order is restored and stabilized.”
I politely attempt to interject once more. “Benicio?”
“In un attimo,” he repeats under his breath, eyes never cutting my direction. “I have a member of the Syndicate standing with me and my decisions. I dare them to go against her or it.”