Bargaining with the Bride(45)

Natalie sat back, watching her glass has she swirled the amber liquid inside. "Well, I did when I agreed to something with a boyfriend. I won’t list the specifics. Other than that." Her lips tilted to the side and for the first time in her nonchalant friend's life, Rachael thought she spied a hint of sadness in her features.

"Then there was my second marriage." Natalie added.

When she sipped her champagne and didn't bother continuing, Rachael prompted her, "What, like, the way it ended?"

"No, the way it started." Natalie laughed. "I was getting into my giant wedding dress, and I remember staring at myself in the big old mirror at my mom's house thinking, 'what am I doing? Is this the most enormous mistake of my life?'"

Natalie shrugged. "Of course, I thought that was just normal cold feet kind of thing. You know, I felt that way before husband number one, too. But with husband number two...it was sharper. Keener, you know?"

The pit in Rachael's stomach dropped another ten notches.

"Yeah," she said.

"Of course, you do have the benefit of this being, you know, completely fake."

Rachael let out a laugh she very much did not feel. "Yeah, you're right. That's a pretty big bonus all right."

"What's the matter? Second thoughts about letting Lance go? Is all of this about him?"

"Definitely not.” She shook her head, letting her perfectly arranged ringlets fly in every direction. "Just work stuff."

"Work stuff? Girl, let that place go for now. After all, how often does a girl get fake married? That's two, three times in a lifetime. Four if you're lucky." Natalie clinked their glasses together, and then took a long pull on hers.

"And it terms of fake grooms, you've got the pick of the litter. Bright, handsome...a little strange."

Rachael laughed despite herself. "Yeah, what woman doesn't dream of marrying her boss in exchange for having him use her like a science experiment? I'm shocked that Barbie hasn't come out yet. She'd come with little test tubes and a veil."

"Don't be stupid. I see the way the two of you are together. This is way past any of that."

"Maybe," Rachael sat her barely-drunk champagne on the little oak table beside her. "Now come on, help me get this thing on. We're running late."

Natalie sat her empty glass beside Rachael's and followed her to the mound of white lace on the floor.

What she'd said before was right—practice did make perfect, and a well-seasoned bride like Natalie knew her way around a corset. Within minutes, Rachael was laced so tightly she could hardly breath. Though, the closer she got to walking down the aisle, the more she wondered if the breathing thing had anything to do with the dress.

Just as she fixed her veil in place for the last time, Eliza bustled through the door, bouquets in hand.

"Found them at last," she waved the roses around with her usual force.

"Great. Let's go." Rachael reached for her, and the second the bouquet was in her hand, she could already feel her knuckles go white with the force of her hold.

"One last look before you go." Eliza grabbed each of her shoulders and steered her back toward the mirror, despite all of Rachael's protestations.

The wedding planner knocked on the door, "Let's go."

"Come on, Eliza. You heard her." Rachael focused on the door. Maybe if she concentrated there she could avoid looking in the mirror. Just maybe she could get through this without feeling like—

"God, you look like a bride." Eliza cooed. "Look."

She shouldn't have done it. She'd known it was a mistake the moment she turned. Still, the second she laid eyes on herself, her heart broke into a million tiny, splintering pieces.

She did look like a bride.

Behind her, her best friend and her sister were dressed in the lavender dresses she'd imagined since she was a little girl.

And Rachael?

Her hair, normally so wild and unruly, was perfect. Her make up was elegant and beautiful. And the dress...

It was the kind of thing dreams were made of. The delicate white lace hung off her shoulders, making her look like an old Hollywood starlet and a real-life princess all in one. The detail flowed down past her waist until it finally flared into an explosion of tulle.

It was her perfect wedding dress.

It was her perfect wedding.

He was her perfect groom

...And none of it was real.

She couldn’t do this. Not to Garret or to herself. No matter who she disappointed, how was she supposed to go through with another year of being prodded and probed and examined by the man she loved?

She couldn’t take it away from him or back out of the deal. It wouldn’t be fair for him to follow through and for her to back out.