"You look stunning, absolutely beautiful," Sarah smiled.
"The dress looks like it was made for you."
"It's made for Williams' bride," Nicole sighed.
"Luckily we're the same shape and size; the classic hourglass figure and a size eight."
"It's the old Hollywood film star figure. You're blessed to have such a tiny waist and your hips, shoulders and chest are perfectly proportioned."
"I wouldn't mind a little extra in the chest department," Nicole stared at herself in the mirror.
"It's a gorgeous dress for you," Fiona, the sales assistant, interjected.
"You're very fortunate that most bridal styles can be easily tailored to your body shape. Which would you like to emphasise most; bust, waist or curves?"
Nicole frowned in confusion.
"I'm not sure. I don't have much of a bust, so I suppose it would be best to emphasise my waist."
"We recommend to our clients that if they want to emphasise their curves they should wear a bias cut or mermaid/fishtail dress. An empire line style with embellishments around the waist such as a falling pattern from the bust to the hip will flatter the bust and will also draw attention to your tiny waist."
"I'm not sure. The choice is quite overwhelming."
"I'll be happy to bring you some examples of dresses in each style if you wish," Fiona offered.
"Yes, that would be great."
Fiona scuttled away to gather together some more dresses.
Sarah took a photo of her friend in the wedding dress that she was already wearing. Nicole was going to try on lots of dresses and then email William her favourite choices later so that he could make the ultimate decision for his bride.
"Don't you feel a bit odd choosing someone else's dress?" Sarah asked.
"I did at first, but it's part of the job. I'm enjoying myself, actually. Why don't you try on a dress too?" "No, I don't believe in marriage," Sarah replied.
"You don't believe in marriage? Whyever not?" Nicole, a die-hard romantic, couldn't believe her ears.
"The idea of marriage has never appealed to me. I never understood why two people need to publicly declare their love to the world. Why can't they live together but retain their own identities? I'd hate to be missus somebody or other. No offence to anyone who decides to get married."
"I still believe in marriage, even after what happened to me," Nicole said quietly.
"I like the fact that such an old-fashioned concept is still held in such high regard. What's wrong with declaring your love for each other to the world? The wedding day is a great party where everyone gets to share the love and happiness. I hope marriage never goes out of style. You don't have to lose your identity just because you're married. If anything, I think it makes the bond between a couple even stronger. Marriage shows dedication and commitment. Maybe it's old-fashioned of me, but I think that children feel more secure if their parents are married."
"Let's just agree to disagree," Sarah interrupted. "I can see this turning into another heated debate if we don't stop now."
Luckily, Fiona returned with an armful of dresses at just the right moment and the two friends spent the rest of the afternoon helping to create another woman's dream day.
Chapter 20
"Welcome, Nicole. Welcome, Paul."
Dr. Davison offered her hand to them in a formal greeting.
"Please, have a seat."
She gestured towards the soft, black leather couch which was positioned in front of her armchair.
Nicole and Paul sat awkwardly a safe distance apart from each other. Nicole suddenly felt overcome with embarrassment. She had no idea what to say to Dr. Davison, their relationship counsellor and she wasn't relishing the prospect of having to discuss their relationship issues in detail.
How excruciating can it be?she thought.
Dr. Davison was a rather large woman in her early fifties. She had a shock of snow-white hair which was piled high on top of her head and secured with a very ornate clip. Black-rimmed glasses framed her bright green eyes and a slick of red lipstick added some colour to her pale face. She wore a pristine, powder-blue trouser suit which cleverly flattered her voluptuous figure. She radiated warmth and kindness and tried her best to put Nicole and Paul at ease.
Dr. Davison leaned forward in her armchair, resting her hands on her knees.
"I understand this is a very personal situation for both of you. What would you like to tell me?" she began, in her soft, lilting accent.
Nicole recognised it as a Galway accent. Galway was one of her favourite places and she found herself slowly beginning to relax at the doctor's gentle voice.
"Nicole and I have been going through a difficult patch in our relationship and we'd like to work it out," Paul replied, without hesitation.
"It's more than a difficult patch, Paul, wouldn't you say?" Nicole retorted.
"Paul dumped me at the altar, Doctor." Nicole came straight out with it.
Dr. Davison drew in a quick breath and looked from one to the other.
"I see."
"Straight to the point, Nicole," Paul couldn't restrain the hint of sarcasm in his voice.
Nicole wanted to reach across and smack him on the head but she managed to restrain herself.
Same old condescending Paul, she thought.
"I'm not the one who cheated, Paul, that was you!" Nicole shot back at him.
Her face flushed with anger.
"We're not here to throw accusations at each other," Dr Davison interrupted.
"You're both here to try to make your relationship work. It's not going to be easy, but it is possible, with a lot of hard work, honesty and soul-searching on both your parts. Are you willing to put in the effort?" Nicole and Paul nodded mutely.
"Do you still love Paul?" Dr Davison asked.
"Yes, I still love him," Nicole replied.
"Do you still love Nicole?"
"I love her more than anything or anyone in this world. The last few months without her have been a living hell for me."
"Great answers," Dr Davison smiled at them.
She turned to Nicole.
"What does Paul need to do to have you give him another chance?"
"He needs to prove himself to me," she answered shortly.
"You know I love you, Nicole," Paul said plaintively.
"It's not as simple as that, Paul," Dr Davison said.
"A lot of the ideas and beliefs that Nicole held about your relationship have died. You will need to work hard to regain her trust and forgiveness."
"That's an understatement," Nicole couldn't help herself.
"Ok," Dr Davison held her hands up.
"I want to spend some time with you both individually before I start working with the two of you together." "How long will this take?" Paul asked impatiently. "I don't understand why we can't start our counselling sessions together. We don't need individual treatment."
"Please don't speak for me, Paul," Nicole snapped.
"I'm sensing a lot of anger from Nicole," Dr Davison continued.
"Your anger is completely understandable, but I'll need to help you work past it before we can move forward in healing your relationship."
Nicole gulped in an effort to calm herself.
"I don't want to feel angry," she said. "I thought I'd gotten past most of my anger, but clearly I haven't. I still don't understand how he could have hurt me so much."
She bit her lip and a single tear rolled down her cheek. The doctor handed her a Kleenex. Paul leaned across the sofa and pulled her into his arms, where she instantly dissolved into helpless tears. She was suddenly too exhausted and drained to put up a fight. She was tired of being brave and strong and forcing herself to get on with her life.
The last few months had been such a struggle and had taken a toll on her.
She buried her face in Paul's chest and inhaled his familiar soapy smell. It was a relief to let her tears flow. Eventually, her sobs began to subside. She took the Klee
nex which Dr Davison offered her and wiped her make-up streaked face.
"I must look a right mess," she sniffed.
"You look beautiful, as always," Paul said, gently squeezing her knee.
"This will work out," Dr Davison said decisively.
"I can see that you two still love each other dearly. It will take hard work and determination to rescue your relationship and it will hurt at times, but I believe you can do it."
Neither of them knew quite what to say to the other after their session with Dr Davison. They walked in uneasy silence to the parking lot.
After much begging on Nicole's part, Evette had finally agreed to let her borrow her precious car for the day. She was grateful as she really couldn't face the thought of dealing with people on the commute into town.
"I know I've never been very good with words, Nicole," Paul began, as they arrived at their cars.
She looked up at him as he spoke. He was still quite pale and drawn even though it had been several months since they'd broken up. She could see that their separation was still taking a toll on him and she felt her heart begin to melt a little.
"I couldn't deal with what I'd done to you, to us, when you first left. The thought of my life without you was unbearable and I couldn't handle the fact that it was my fault. I found it difficult to process my thoughts and emotions and I had nobody to talk to. Everyone except your dad seemed to have turned against me, not that I can blame them. I started a journal, where I tried to make sense of everything and it's helped me to get my head together somewhat. I want you to have it."
He opened his car door and pulled a thick, hardback notebook off the front passenger seat. He gave his journal to her. She took it in silence, not knowing quite what to say.
Paul had never liked writing. She was the writer in their relationship. She'd bought him a journal a few years previously for his birthday and she was surprised to see that he'd kept it all that time.
"Will you read it?" he asked quietly.
"Yes, of course."
He walked her to her car and opened the door for her.
"Bye," she said as she clambered inside, putting her keys in the ignition.
He hesitated for a moment before saying "I love you, Nicole."
"Bye," was all she could manage to say in response, those three important words caught in her throat.
Chapter 21
“It’s the most wonderful time of the year” blasted from the stereo system in the sisters’ apartment.
"Merry Christmas, sis!" Nicole cheerfully greeted Evette as she wandered into the kitchen for her morning coffee.
"Merry Christmas to you too." Evette looked bewildered.
There were pots and pans strewn everywhere and each hob on the cooker was bubbling with one of her sister's many concoctions.
"What day is it?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.
"It's Sunday, December the first; officially the first day of Christmas." Nicole was busily stirring eggs into a huge bowl.
"You've been busy."
"I sure have. This is my favourite time of the year."
"Well, it smells wonderful in here." Evette sniffed the air appreciatively.
"I'm cooking us a special breakfast to celebrate December the first."
"Yum, I'm absolutely ravenous."
Evette's stomach growled just as she spoke and the sisters laughed at the noise.
"What are we eating?" Evette asked as she watched her sister expertly add a pinch of cinnamon and another pinch of nutmeg into her mixing bowl.
"We're having butterscotch banana waffles, served with white hot chocolate, sprinkled with a dusting of cococa powder."
"This is wonderfully cosy and delicious." Evette breathed in the Christmassy smell of cinnamon and hot chocolate.
"It's amazing how a smell can transport you right back to the past," she said. "I can close my eyes and it's like I'm back in mom's kitchen at home again. Remember how she used to cook French toast every Saturday morning?"
"Of course I remember," Nicole smiled. "The smell of cinnamon always reminds me of our childhood."
"We're lucky to have so many happy Christmas memories," Evette sighed contentedly.
Nicole nodded in agreement. She was slightly out of breath from trying to whisk her waffle mix by hand. Needless to say, Evette didn't own an electric whisk.
"Mom and Dad instilled the wonder of Christmas in my heart and I'll always be grateful to them for the memories," Nicole said. "I hope, one day, that I'll be able to pass on their traditions to my own family."
"What are your favourite memories, sis?" Evette asked, as she slowly sipped her coffee.
"One of my favourite memories is the first time I saw snow," Nicole took a break from her whisking and decided to treat herself to a hot chocolate.
"I think I was about ten years old. Every year I'd pray for a white Christmas, but it hardly ever snows in Ireland, maybe every fifty years.
I was helping mom to wrap presents in secret in the attic. You still believed in Santa and we wanted you to believe for as long as possible, so we'd sneak up to the attic when you were at your friend's house and we'd spend a few hours wrapping everyone's presents.
I loved spending that time with mom. It was like our own little secret club. I felt like one of Santa's elves.
Anyway, this particular Christmas was very cold and there'd been an Arctic wind blowing across Ireland for days. When we'd finished wrapping the presents we looked outside and the first snow flurries had started. I was completely mesmerised. It was so magical.
Mom and I ran outside and took lots of photos of the snow. It was like a winter wonderland. We had so much fun, but we didn't expect more than a few hours of light snow. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect to wake up the next morning and have the entire garden covered in a thick, white blanket.
It had fallen steadily throughout the night and temperatures had plummeted even lower, so there were at least ten centimetres of snow on the ground. The branches of every tree were covered; it was breathtakingly beautiful.
I remember you and I had such fun in the garden having snowball fights and making snow angels and snow men. It was our first white Christmas and I'll never forget it." Nicole's eyes shone with the happy memory.
"Remember Dad would hide presents all over the house and we'd spend hours searching for them?" Evette said, her face lighting up. "I remember, it was so exciting never knowing where or when you'd find that last secret present."
"We used to love watching the late evening news on Christmas Eve," Nicole smiled. "They always broadcast Santa's location and as soon as we saw him and the reindeer we'd jump into bed as fast as our legs could carry us!"
"I know. It was so exciting!" Evette laughed.
"Dad would tuck us into our beds on Christmas Eve and read us the Christmas story from the Bible."
"One of my favourite memories is the Advent Calendar," Evette said. "The last Sunday in November mom would buy us Advent Calendars. We had to have one each because we otherwise we'd be fighting over who opened each window and got the chocolate. The Advent Calendar always signalled the start of the Christmas season for me."
"Secret Santa was my fondest Christmas memory from school," Nicole continued. "Our teacher would put all our names into a big Santa hat and we'd each pull out the name of the person for whom we'd buy or make a present. We could barely contain our excitement when it came time to exchange our gifts."
"I'll never forget the beautiful porcelain dolls that mom bought us one Christmas," Evette said. "They were so pretty," Nicole agreed.
"They each wore a silk dress with lace sleeves and they even had their own set of pearls and tiny diamond earrings."
"I think they were probably cubic zirconia," Evette interrupted.
"I know," Nicole looked at her sister disparagingly. "I like to pretend they were diamonds."
"Ok, sorry."
"Remember the gingerbread houses that Dad used to make every year?"
"How coul
d I forget?"
"He used to spend many painstaking hours getting the gingerbread house just right. Nobody was allowed in the kitchen because he had to concentrate so much and needed peace and quiet."
Evette laughed at the memory.
"Mom usually took us shopping in town until he was done."
"His gingerbread houses were amazing. They looked like real, miniature versions of our home."
"When Christmas was over he'd hang them outside for the birds and the squirrels to enjoy. He hated throwing them away after all his hard work. It was a clever way of recycling them."
"We loved Christmas so much that we invented a game where we used to play Christmas in the playroom all year round. We used to cut out drawings and pretend they were ornaments and we'd wrap our old toys in newspapers to exchange gifts. How cute were we?"
"We were very cute indeed,” Evette agreed. “Anyway, what's the plan for the rest of the day?"
"We're going Christmas tree shopping with Ben. He offered to help us carry the tree."
"Oh that’s good. I haven't seen Benny in a while. It'll be great to catch up with him. What else have you got cooking and baking? I don't think my oven has ever seen so much action. There was a stage when I used to store old magazines in it, but I got tired of Ben lecturing me about it being a serious fire hazard."
"I'm cooking mince pies for later this evening and the herbs and spices for the mulled wine are infusing nicely. I've invited a few people over to help us decorate the tree. You don't mind do you?"
"I don't mind at all. The more the merrier I always say."
Chapter 22
"I found it!" Evette yelled.
Ben and Nicole came running towards the sound of her voice.
They'd all piled into Evette's little Ford Fiesta and driven up into the mountains to a Christmas tree farm. Ben was delegated to carry the saw and do the cutting, while Nicole and Evette split up in search of the right tree.
"It's perfect!" Nicole exclaimed, clapping her hands in delight.
The Wedding Day Page 14