by Anna B. Doe
Cold towel feels good, so I repeat the process a few times, washing my face, neck, and cleavage.
“Are you okay?”
I turn around and look at the doorway where my best friend lingers.
“Yeah, I just …” The smell of her perfume reaches my nostrils again, but thanks to the open windows it’s not so overpowering as it was before. “What the hell did you put on yourself? A whole box of perfume?”
Val frowns at me. “No, I put a bit on my wrists and neck. It’s the perfume I always use.”
“That is not the perfume you use. They must have changed something.”
She’s been using the same perfume for years. It’s a sweet flowery scent. That shit she put on? Not her scent at all.
I grab my toothbrush and vigorously start brushing my teeth. The stale taste of puke still lingers in my mouth. It’s disgusting, and I’m afraid if I don’t get rid of it soon I’ll throw up all over again.
When I finish I turn back to look at her. I can still feel my stomach roll all over the place, but I don’t think I’ll throw up again.
Is there even something left to throw up?
“You mind if I grab a quick shower? I’m all sticky.”
Val shakes her head. “I’ll pick some clothes for you and leave it here to change.”
*
After my quick shower we rush out of the apartment because the taxi is already waiting for us downstairs.
We were supposed to take the bus, but because of me we’re already running pretty late.
Val wants to stop so I can grab breakfast and coffee, but the mention of food makes my stomach protest. I don’t know what is wrong with me.
Dizziness could be the result of too much work and not enough sleep, but throwing up? I don’t think the sandwich I had for dinner last night was bad. It didn’t taste or smell funny.
Putting my worries at the back of my mind, I concentrate on my friend and her plan for today.
Val organized a meeting with a few wedding salons here in Zadar. There isn’t a lot of them, but I’m sure there will be at least one dress I’ll like. I hope, at least. I’m not in the mood to travel all the way to Zagreb to hunt for the perfect dress.
We spend the next couple of hours in three different, smaller salons. They have nice dresses, but … they aren’t for me.
At the end of those two hours I feel like I’ve seen it all. From traditional pure white dresses to champagne colored. Long sleeves, short sleeves, stripes, no sleeves. Some fall, some are cut in A or extra puffy in the waist. There are princess dresses, the dresses that have mermaid tail … Some are short on the front and long on the back while some have cut on the side. With sparkle and glitter, lace or just simple, clean white.
I could take my pick, but no, none of them work for me.
And I tried. I really did.
Val made me try every dress that I looked for more than five seconds, but in the end, she agreed. They just weren’t me.
“I’m done,” I whine loudly once we exit the last shop. “This wasn’t supposed to be difficult. Get in, try a few dresses, pick one and get out.”
“Riiiight, because of that we’ve already been in three shops and you’ve tried over twenty dressed.” Val rolls her eyes laughing.
“That’s just sad. I’ll see you once you have to find your perfect wedding dress.”
I want to slap myself as soon as the words leave my mouth. Just a while ago Val confessed to me about her uncertain relationship with her long-time boyfriend. I could feel the distance between them when they were at the engagement party. And if that’s any indication I was afraid how everything is working out when they’re alone at home.
There is sadness in her eyes, but she smiles softly. “If I find the perfect dress in first fifty to a hundred I try I’ll take it as shopping went well.”
She takes my hand and starts walking. “Come on! There is another one we can look at, before they close for the day.”
We walk in a hurry. Val fills me in on her thesis status—she can finally present it to the teaching committee yay!—and I tell her all about my thesis and book I’ve been working on.
Fifteen minutes later, we stumble into the shop, this one slightly bigger than the previous.
Val tells the woman what we’re looking for. Somewhere along trying all those dresses I got a general idea of what I’d like in my dress. Cream white dress with short sleeves to no sleeves since the wedding is in June. Preferably lace, although sparkles or diamonds can pass if there aren’t too many of them. After all, I don’t want to be a Christmas tree. I’d like the bottom part to fall or be in a slight A. Nothing too puffy or with a long tail.
Simple.
Classy.
Elegant.
Those are the first words that come to my mind when I think of my wedding dress.
Although I loved Sienna’s dress with naked back I knew I wouldn’t be comfortable in a similar dress. Same goes for deep V on the front of the dress or deep cut on the side.
While Val explains what we’re looking for I look through the dresses in the shop. The two of them join me and I show them the ones I like and would love to try.
The first one is pretty simple. Classic white dress. The top is sleeveless, and it ties behind my back like a corset. There is a fine layer of glitter on it and diamonds that are sewed on the sweetheart neckline. The bottom part is puffy and falls down my legs. There is a see-through layer that goes over the petticoat.
Val waves her head as soon as I get out of the dressing room. “Too big. This dress swallows you whole.”
“Maybe you should try it with high heels? It will give you a few extra inches.” The saleswoman suggests, but both of us shake our head no.
Maybe I seem picky, but I can’t help myself.
Do you know that feeling when you try something on and you just feel like it’s made for you? It fits you perfectly and you just know this is it? I didn’t find the dress that makes me feel like that. I didn’t find the dress that will make Will pause and look at me a second longer.
I try two more dresses. One of them has short sleeves and is covered in lacy material from head to toe. The other one is extra tight, in the color of champagne and has a tail longer than I’d like.
Our wedding is outdoors, so I don’t want it to get dirty on the grass.
I’m about ready to give up when the saleswoman comes back with one big white bag. “I found this one in the back. It fits the description you gave me. If you’d like to try …”
Sighing, I get up from my chair. I’m already in my underwear so why not try it while I’m at it?
She hangs the dress in the dressing room and carefully opens the bag and gets the dress out.
“This is …” I stare at it, not knowing what to say.
Val peeks over my shoulder and excitedly claps her hands. “Try it on! Try it on!”
I slip it on with the help of the two of them.
Once I’m completely dressed, I step out of the dressing room and go to the big three-sided mirror in the main room.
“You look stunning, Bel!” Val squeals excitedly. “Turn around so I can take a picture and send it to your Mom and Si.”
I comply, although it’s hard to take eyes from my own reflection. Even pale and with bags under my eyes I can’t take away the shine of this dress.
“It’s perfect,” I murmur softly, staring at my reflection.
“Will doesn’t know what’s coming!”
*
Once we arranged everything at the bridal shop, Valentina decided it was time to go and eat something.
Finally.
I didn’t eat anything since last night and we all know how that ended—thrown up down the toilet drain. It wasn’t even strange I started to feel light headed as soon as we left the cool space of the bridal shop and started walking toward the Old Town. April can be a tricky month, but today is unusually warm.
We could have probably waited for the bus, but they pass so rarely here—e
ven less on weekends—that we didn’t bother with waiting.
“I still can’t believe that after the whole day we found the perfect dress for you!” Val squeals excitedly.
“Actually, it was the morning, but …”
“Don’t be a party pooper, Bel,” Val scolds me with a frown. “Are you sure this is the dress? We can look more if you want.”
“This is the dress Val. I’m sure.” I squeeze her hand in mine. “And my answer doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that I want this to be over as soon as possible.”
“You’re the worst!” She shoves me and we both giggle.
On the walk to the Old Town and the Wok stand that just recently opened, Val talks my ear off with all the wedding details. She knows more stuff about weddings and has a clearer picture of how my wedding will look like than me. Val talks about wedding, jewelry, reception, colors, and cakes like a pro. At least somebody is excited about all the small details. I just want it to end so I can be Will’s wife. Nothing else matters.
We place our order, my stomach turning in the need of food. I didn’t even know how hungry I was until all the smells reached my nostrils. Nothing like rice, chicken, veggies, and sweet and spicy sauce.
Thankfully, we’re the only ones here so we don’t have to wait too long. When the food comes, I start shoving it in my mouth.
“This is so good!”
“You eat like you’re starving,” Val says and takes a small bite.
“I am! My stomach was acting all funny this morning, but now I’m so hungry I could probably eat a horse.”
Even so, I slow down. The last thing I want is to look like a starving Neanderthal. Or throw up again because I was eating too fast.
My phone rings just as I’m finishing. I look down at the table and smile, connecting the call. “Hey, Si! Did you get the picture?”
“Hey, girl! Yes! It’s gorgeous, Bel! I’m here pouting because I couldn’t go wedding dress hunting with you two.”
“We missed you.” And I’m not even lying. I would have loved to have my two best friends with me today. “What do you think of the dress?”
“It’s completely you …” She sighs happily. “You’ll be one beautiful bride, Bel. Will doesn’t know what’s coming!”
“Val said the same thing!”
There is a slight pause on the other side of the line.
“Si? You there?”
We usually do video calls or Skype, but mostly when I’m home because phone connection can be tricky sometimes and calls get cut. Trust me, in the last year I’d tried all the ways to talk to Will and Sienna.
“Yeah … I just … Have you talked to Will lately?”
“I tried texting last night, but he didn’t get back to me until after I went to bed. He texted around three in the morning. Said he was out with J.D. Why?”
“You didn’t read the paper?”
I frown even more.
“What is going on, Sienna?”
“There’s gossip going around, Bel.”
“What kind of gossip?”
She swallows so loud I can hear it all the way through the line. “That Will is cheating on you …”
After that, I don’t remember much else. Only blackness.
CHAPTER 15
WILLIAM
“Tell me what the hell is going on here, Price.”
Sienna sashays into my apartment, anger rolling from her every pore. She shoves a magazine in my chest, effectively moving me out of her way.
“Hello to you too,” I drawl sarcastically.
This whole scene reminds me of another one that happened not so long ago. The day when Sienna confronted me after she returned to the States because I’d been stalking her place like a madman in hopes to get an answer about Anabel’s whereabouts.
Not a pretty memory or something I’d like to repeat.
“Don’t be dumb.” Sienna looks at me with narrowed eyes. Dropping her butt in the arm chair she lifts her feet on my coffee table. “What game are you playing?”
The jacket she’s wearing is open, leaving her pregnant belly exposed. I’m not sure how far along she is—six, seven months?—but she’s huge. It looks good on her, though. She looks happy and healthy. And pissed. She definitely looks pissed.
Her hand is covering the underside of her stomach, rubbing it softly. It seems like she’s not even aware of it.
“I’m not playing any games.” I cross hands over my chest in defiance. The last thing I want to do is fight or upset a pregnant woman, but her pissy behavior is getting on my nerves. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
One perfect eyebrow arches and she tilts her chin in the direction of the magazine, still tucked under my hand.
“What the hell is that then?”
Slowly, I peel the magazine from under my arm and open it to look for whatever made her so angry.
After everything that happened with Anabel last year we’ve grown close. I don’t remember doing or saying something to her lately that could cause this kind of rage thrown in my direction.
But when the magazine unfolds and my eyes look at the cover I know exactly what has her panties in the twist. Blood starts slowly boiling in my veins and I feel my own anger surface.
“This is bullshit!”
I throw the magazine on the table at her feet, but the offending assumption looks at me from the cover.
Trouble in paradise? New York Knights’ star quarterback seen with up-and-coming tennis player, Emma Hale.
The title is accompanied with the picture of me and Emma sitting side by side. Our bodies are close and we’re looking at each other—talking almost into each other’s ear—because the music was so loud we wouldn’t be able to hear each other properly otherwise. But I get how this can seem like something else to other people.
“I was with J.D. that night. Emma was there. She was supposed to meet a friend, but she bailed on her last minute, so J.D. invited her to sit with us. You called so he had to go home early, and we stayed a while behind. I wanted to go too, but I didn’t want to be rude. We had another drink and went home. End of story.”
“Did you tell Bel about it?”
“What? No! Why would I …?”
“She found out.” Her words freeze me. “We talked earlier today. She sent me the picture of the wedding dress and I called, and we talked … I asked her did you two talk, and then she wouldn’t let it go …”
The blood that was only seconds ago running wild suddenly slows down. Hands at my sides clench into fists so hard my nails dig into the skin, drawing blood.
“What did you tell her, Sienna?”
Her feet fall off the table and she gets up. For being pregnant, she’s quite agile.
“I told her the truth! I didn’t want her to find out from the internet! I thought you told her!”
My hands dig into the strands of my hair and I pull at it. The last thing I want is to go into a rage fit and do something I’ll regret later. Like strangling my best friend’s wife.
“What the fuck, Si?” I turn around and walk to the window.
The apartment suddenly feels too small. Walls are closing on me, and I feel trapped inside with no way out.
No way to get to Anabel.
No way to explain.
No way to make her listen.
“You should know better than that! Bel is feeling vulnerable now. That’s why I didn’t tell her anything.” I rub my face, trying to ease the throbbing pain in my temples. “You didn’t see her just before I had to come back home. She was fucking broken. She cried so hard. She begged and pleaded and demanded, but there was nothing I could do to ease her pain.”
I close my eyes, and I can see it all so clearly again. Bel’s tear-stained face, her blue eyes swollen and red. The memory of her fists pounding at my chest is so clear it matched the beat of my heart. And her sobs … Oh, God, those painful, broken sobs still hunt me in my dreams.
Chasing the memory away, I open my eyes and look at Sienna. Al
l the fight that was in her when I opened my door is gone. Vanished. The only thing left behind is regret. Regret and sorrow.
“Will, I …”
“Don’t,” I interrupt her, shaking my head. “I have to call her. I have to make this better.”
Si nods her head in understanding. Her short, honey-colored hair swaying with the motion. “I’m sorry. I should have come to you first. I …”
“You should have,” I agree, taking the phone out of my pocket and turning my back on her.
This isn’t about Sienna. This is about Anabel. About my Tinkerbell, and I have to make it right before everything falls apart before it even began.
She knows I love her, I don’t doubt that for a second, but this forced distance between us makes the lines blurry. Brings out insecurities we didn’t even know existed until the point they’re here. Impeding. Hanging over our heads and whispering things that don’t exist into our ear. Making us believe our worst fears and insecurities are more than just fiction.
The phone rings and rings. With every beep that goes unanswered I feel my heart sink down even lower, dread washing over me. Fear is squeezing my heart so strong I’m afraid it’ll break.
What if she doesn’t answer?
What if she already gave up on me? On us?
How do I make a girl that is so fragile and vulnerable believe that nothing, absolutely nothing, can come between us?
Finally, before I can tear myself with more what ifs, hows and whens, the beeping stops. At first, I think the call was disconnected but then I hear her soft breathing on the other side of the line.
Anabel maybe is hundreds of miles away from me, but at this moment I can almost feel her warm breath touch my skin.
I squeeze me eyes shut, allowing myself only a fraction of a second to enjoy the sound of her. Relief washes over me, but it doesn’t last long.
“Baby …?” I rasp, a note of desperation in my low voice.
It feels hard to talk. My throat is dry, and every swallow is painful.
“William …”
“Bel, babe, please let me explain. Okay?” I don’t let her speak. If I do, I’ll give her a chance to dump my sorry ass and that is not happening. “That is definitely not what it looks like.”
