Page 25 of Faking With Mr. Steele
Lindsey and Eleanor sit like jurors in the high back chairs waiting to judge me in the next greatest creation of Pierre’s. And somehow, Trudy has managed to weasel her way in to this fashion show. She looks disgustingly pleased with the way each dress isn’t the right one.
“You look like a giant snowball,” my mom says in regard to the silk organza mess of madness that I can’t even figure out how to sit in.
Lindsey laughs a little, and Eleanor gives a dismissive shake of her head. “That’s not the one,” she says.
Pierre prances over to his portable rack. “I have another.”
Of course, he does. This is more than a ‘few’ dresses. I’m on my fifth fiasco. Each one more extravagant than the one before. If this were my real wedding, I’d want something simple and elegant, not full and frilly. But, no one listens to me.
I step inside the bathroom with my mom as he hands me another dress.
After mom zips me up, I study myself in the mirror of this makeshift dressing room. I twist and turn, admiring the dress from all angles. This dress is kind of perfect. It’s classy, with art deco beadwork on the bodice. Sometimes less is more, and the drop back ends in a tasteful v.
“It’s stunning,” my mother says to me in the mirror. I can’t believe it’s me in the reflection. I really can’t.
“Oh my,” Lindsey says, when I step out, her eyes shining with excitement.
Eleanor rises from her chair with a smile on her face. “I think it’s perfect.” And then she does something I’m completely not expecting. She turns to Pierre, and says, “We’ll take this one.”
“Wait,” I squeak out, but no one is listening to me. They’re all occupied with a little mini-chaotic party that just erupted the moment Mrs. Steele spoke her approval.
Oh my God, she just bought this dress.
I’m sure this dress is a small fortune, and it’s not a real wedding. I want to say something. I open my mouth to actually do it, until a knock at the door stops me.
“Zoe, are you in there?” It’s Graham. Just the man I need to see.
Lindsey hops up from her chair. “Don’t come in here. It’s bad luck.”
Pierre and Eleanor hurry me back into the bathroom to change, and I do, as fast as possible. I need to talk to Graham. Now. Before I can get to him, the door to the bathroom opens and Trudy steps inside.
“Listen,” she says in a low voice, “we need to talk.”
“I can’t right now,” I say, trying to move around her.
She blocks the door, leaning back against it. “If you marry him, my dad takes his resort.”
“What do you mean?”
“There are things that have been in the works long before you came around.” She eyes me, coldly. “Do you want to be the reason he loses everything? It’s me or the resort. And if you tell him any of this, my father will move hard and swift to take control of it. So you need to stay as far away from him as possible.” Her words slide in my ears and go straight to my heart. “Let’s be real, you’re not one of us anyway.”
“I can definitely see why he doesn’t like you,” I tell her, before nudging her out of the way. This is all fake, and it’s time to get out of the fantasy. No matter how much I want it, Graham and I will never be anything. And it’s time to end the charade.
Chapter 11
Graham
“You can’t go in there. It’s bad luck to see the bride in her dress before the wedding,” Lindsey chastises me as she slips out the door of Zoe’s room.
Fuck, a dress?
I need to put a stop to all of this, but I don’t even know where to begin. I can’t believe how on board with this wedding my mother is.
“Ok. Ok,” I grab her arm to pull her away from the door, “Lindsey, I have to tell you something.”
I’m pretty sure it’s shock that freezes her face as I blurt out all my lies, everything Zoe and I have been keeping secret. She looks like she’s watching a train wreck happen right before her eyes. And that’s how I feel about my life right now—it’s one giant train wreck.
“Well, shit,” she says, after I finish telling her everything.