It’s one hundred times better.
The dress has short, capped organza sleeves, designed to un-sluttify the built in satin-boned corset that frames my torso (and my sweater puppies) with a silk ribboned lace-up back which leads into a floor-length sweeping satin skirt that kisses the floor and unfortunately hides the to die for silver glitter lattice sandals. Their six inch heel lifts me up to match Daniel’s six foot two inch heights.
“No freakout,” I whisper as I look at Kate once more. My best friend who has always been there for me. Through thick and thin, through my slutdom and my realization that the man I’m about to marry was the one.
“No more freakouts, babe. You’re stunning and you’re getting married!” she declares on a shriek which sparks the moms to life.
As I stand there, frozen in place in front of the mirror with my best friend and my moms mulling around me, I know that this was where I was meant to end up.
And my superhero and gorgeous mini mes waiting at home for me are my rewards.
Chapter 6: “Be Okay”
Mac
“This is some pre-wedding joke right?” I let out a laugh, shocked at Noah’s request.
“Uh … what do you mean?”
“You’re not really trying to get me to agree to my ex-fuck buddy bringing my future husband’s bitch of an ex-girlfriend to my dinner, right?” I shake my head as I start pacing my kitchen.
“I’d really appreciate it, Mac.” Noah’s voice sounds tight, not at all like his normal, confident self.
“Really? Of all the women in Chicago you could wanna bring, why Nikki?” I’ve had a few wines tonight, so I’m beyond censorship (or caring) at this point. I lean back with my butt against the counter as I reach out with my spare hand and top up my glass with wine.
“It’s always been her, Mac. There’s just something there, I know it. I needed to try. She said she’d like to attend the wedding as my partner, and there was this look in her eye that just—”
“What the f**k, Noah? Where is the walking dildo who would never get sucked in by a blond-haired nasty succubus? You know she’s tried every which way to wrangle an invite to our wedding. Maybe she thinks it’ll be her last chance at some lame attempt to save Daniel from my clutches. Fuck knows. Fuck cares at this point. Seriously, Noah, bring her. I’m marrying Superman come hell or high water and no ex-girlfriend with a grudge will be able to stop that.”
“Are you sure?” I can’t help but feel something resembling sympathy when I hear the hopeful lilt in his voice. Noah is many things, reformed man-whore and walking dildo notwithstanding, but he has always been a great guy and an awesome friend. He was there when I found out I was pregnant, and yes, he may have also made the dick-move of inadvertently telling Daniel that I was knocked up, but he’s a good guy. And if this is something he truly wants, then surely it can’t hurt to let bygones be bygones and let the she-bitch from hell come to my wedding.
Hell, at least she can get jealous at how drop dead gorgeous I’m gonna look in my kick-ass wedding dress, and I can’t say I won’t get some sick enjoyment out of knowing that she’ll be watching Daniel vow to spend the rest of his life with me.
Hey, I’m still a girl. We all have our quirks. Me, I want my husband-to-be’s ex-girlfriend to see that he’s mine and only mine, once and for all. She may have Daniel and Noah fooled, but I know what women like her are like.
“Yep. You have my permission to invite Nikki to the wedding.”
“You’re awesome, Mac. You know that?”
“I may have been told that in my time.” He chuckles down the phone and I can’t help but grin back as I see Daniel walk into the room and stop a safe distance away from me, his body language giving away his wariness.
“Okay, babe, I’m gonna go and tell Daniel the fantastic news,” I reply, my voice saccharine sweet while I refuse to unlock my gaze from my superhero.
“See you Friday, Mac.”
I cooly place my phone on the kitchen counter, then stand there and study Daniel because, right now, the ‘oh f**k’ look on his face makes me wonder if he already knew about Noah’s request. And if so, I wonder how long he’s known about it.
I’m flabbergasted. For all his superhero abilities (and believe me, Daniel has a LOT of them) you’d be shocked to know that he has his flaws too. Don’t get me wrong, they are few and far between, and often show themselves at the most inopportune times. Like randomly forgetting to put the toilet seat down in the master bathroom and my bleary-eyed ass threatening to hit water after a rather arduous middle of the night feeding—that was a fun one! And now it seems he’s just revealed one more. The inability to say no to his best friend when he wants to invite the she-devil herself to our wedding.
Actually, she-devil is being nice to the female spawn of Satan. No, Nasty Nikki is a devious slapper who is so deep in denial that she has a shit show in hell of ever being with my Daniel again that she still, more than two years after meeting me, hasn’t accepted the fact that I am the one marrying Daniel.
I live with him, I wear his over the top but totally gorgeous ring on my finger, and I am the mother to his two mini-superheroes in training. Forgive me for being possessive, but dammit, he’s mine. I could handle the frequent text messages and random, sometimes inopportune phone calls just to say hi, especially since Daniel has always made it clear, in his words and actions, that I am the only woman for him, till death do us part, forever and ever, Amen.
You get the picture.
But there is something about that woman that has irked me from day one. The snide looks, that infuriating and heartbreaking hand touch in the café when I was being stupid and trying to fool myself into thinking that I couldn’t be with Daniel, and now this.
I go to open my mouth, but he beats me to it. “Gorgeous, you have nothing to worry about.”
Lesson number one to all males out there. Never, ever tell a bride who is straddling the line between insanity and being mildly unamused that she has ‘nothing to worry about.’ It’s like taking away all the chocolate and Midol when she’s got her period.
In short, don’t do it unless you have a death wish.
I slowly place my spare hand on my hip, moving into that stance. You know, the one that says you mean business and that most smart men know means that they’ve f**ked up, and bad. Lifting my glass to my mouth, I take a slow, measured sip as I will myself down from level ten to level five or at least something close. Not once do I take my eyes off Daniel, who is literally leaning his ass up against the back of the couch, visibly squirming under my damning gaze.