Page 108 of Girl Anonymous

Maarja touched the bandage on her chin. “I hope the Novocain wears off soon. I’ve got vows to recite and the back of my tongue is numb.”

CHAPTER 52

The fog lingered through the morning, muffling sound and limiting vision, a situation Dante apparently found unsatisfactory for he occasionally paced into the bedroom, muttering, “Great. Just great,” at intervals designed to irritate.

Maarja was beyond irritation. The time had arrived. They had the license. Mom would perform the marriage. Alex would lean on her staff and be Maarja’s maid of honor. Connor would stand with Dante. And they’d lived through the night.

Now all they had to do was live through the ceremony.

At last Dante managed to irritate Alex enough that she banned him from the house altogether, and Mom and Alex began the barbaric ritual calleddressing the bride.

Mom told Maarja to lift her arms and close her eyes, and when she did, they dropped the wedding gown over her. The material rustled with a warm, deep sound of wealth. The sleeves slid down and the seam rested on her shoulders. She lowered her arms, and they fastened the rows of buttons at her spine and pushed her over to the mirror where they commanded she look at herself.

Despite her best efforts, she’d been unable to effectively grow out her hair since the explosion. Yet the ruffle of dark red curled slightly as it framed her face, her eyes shone more violet than blue, and she felt exuberant.

“What do you think of the dress?” Alex sounded so excited. “Isn’t it gorgeous? Dante picked the velvet so Mom could enjoy the texture, and this tone of white perfectly accents your skin tone!”

Maarja looked down at herself. The flat jeweled bodice pressed against her ribs and lifted her breasts above the sweetheart neckline; the velvet hung in rich folds from her waist and draped into a train that dragged behind her and demanded an entourage of fairies to carry it.

“It’s even got pockets!” Alex could barely contain her glee.

“It’s perfect,” Maarja said and then, “I thought you didn’t trust him.”

“He’s got great taste in clothes.” Alex did love good clothes. “I hope he does as well with jewelry.”

“Jewelry?” Maarja didn’t get it.

Alex pointed at her ring finger. “Have you seen what he got for your wedding ring?”

“No?” She hadn’t even considered it. “My God, I didn’t get him a ring!”

“Don’t worry,” Octavia soothed. “He’s handled everything else, I’m sure he’s handled that, too.”

That did not comfort Maarja at all. She was bad at this being-­a-bride thing.

“Wait until you see this veil!” Alex placed the orange blossom wreath on Maarja’s head like a crown, then draped the long fall of old French lace down over her shoulders and back, and lifted it gracefully so it floated down over the train like winter snow in the Sierras.

“How does she look?” Octavia sounded as excited as Maarja felt.

“So pretty, Mom,” Alex said. “She’s shining with a glow from within.”

“I really am.” Maarja supposed she ought to be embarrassed to describe herself with such enthusiasm, but many times she used her vision to provide Octavia with a view of the worldand now, looking in the mirror, she could scarcely believe the woman who stared back at her. A smile trembled on her lips. “I’m the most beautiful bride ever.”

Octavia sighed in delight, then perked up, always ready to offer advice or…a small paper bag, which she handed to Maarja. “Alex and I—”

Alex interrupted. “It was Mom’s idea!”

“Alexand I—” Octavia put an emphasis on Alex’s name “—decided you should take a moment to discover if a baby is on the way.”

Impulsively Maarja crunched the bag in her fist. “If I am, what? Knowing won’t change anything.” She peeked into the bag at the light green box and felt slightly nauseated. Not morning sickness, she assured herself, just nerves.

Alex wiggled her fingers at Maarja, urging her toward the bathroom. “It is a good idea. If you’re not, no big deal, and if you are—”

Maarja dug in her heels. “I don’t wanna!”

“It’s so unlike you to be a coward.” Alex never pulled her punches. “You have tomake à le pipibefore the ceremony, anyway. Just do it.”

“Maybe,” Maarja grumbled.

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