Page 38 of Her Fake Island Wedding

Chapter Eighteen

“Rise and shine, princess bride!”

“Hurgh!” Lucy shot upright, disorientated at first to find herself not in her own bed. Nessa was standing over her, a broad grin on her face. Through the doorway behind her, she could see Rosie, Jill and Olivia already bustling around, and she was sure she could hear a male voice amidst the feminine chatter.

“It’s nine o’clock, sugar. Didn’t sleep well?”

“Appalling,” Lucy confessed, rubbing at her eyes. “I kept waking up because I couldn’t hear Bryce breathing.” She’d had trouble going to sleep even after a few glasses of champagne, and then kept waking up every few minutes.

Nessa’s smile was sympathetic. “I know exactly what you mean. Even though Jace was snoring like a chainsaw when I crawled in next to him last night, I still slept better than I did while he was away.”

“Bryce doesn’t snore.”

“Nor does Jace, usually, but considering the number of empty wine bottles in the kitchen I think it was quite a party.”

“Ha.” Rolling her head around on her neck, Lucy stretched her arms out to the sides. “Despite the crappy sleep, I feel good. Shae loosened out knots I didn’t even know I had.”

“She’s good. And she’s here to help you with your hair and makeup, so get your ass out of that bed and have a shower. Ten minutes or I’ll sic Terry and Jerome on you. You’ll mess up their carefully planned timetable if you take any longer.” Nessa gave her a laughing wink before closing the bedroom door and leaving Lucy alone again.

Quite sure Nessa would carry through on her threat, Lucy scrambled out of bed and ran for the bathroom. Her hair had been washed and styled the day before, so she stuffed it hastily into a shower cap to keep it from getting wet while she washed.

When she emerged, wrapped in a fluffy towelling robe, Shae was waiting with her gentle smile and quiet manner, a case of makeup ready on the dresser beside a croissant and a cup of coffee.

“I’m not big on a lot of makeup,” Lucy eyed the big case doubtfully as she sat down at Shae’s wordless gesture and reached for her breakfast. “Um. If I wear a lot of makeup, I… look more like my mother than I’m comfortable with.”

“I’ll keep it light and natural,” Shae promised. “It’s going to be hot today anyway, you don’t need it all melting off to leave marks on your dress.”

Gemma slid into the room to take pictures as Shae used a delicate, skillful touch to just touch up Lucy’s natural beauty. They’d already agreed Lucy would wear her hair half up, half down, with some intricate braids pulling the top section away from her face before Shae arranged the rest in an artful tumble of soft waves falling forward over her left shoulder. A strand of pearls on loan from the resort jewellery shop held the arrangement in place, more pearls in her earlobes and a single teardrop-shaped one hanging from a gold chain at the hollow of her throat completing a simple, classical look.

“You look stunning,” Gemma sighed, kneeling on the floor to get an upwards shot of Lucy looking in the mirror. “You’ll knock Bryce’s socks off. Have you seen the response we’ve been getting on the Big Wedding series on Instagram and Facebook? The bookings for weddings are going cray-cray. Terry and Jerome have been hitting up Luke to hire them another assistant to handle all the details they don’t have time for.”

That was good. Creating good publicity for the resort at least assuaged a little of Lucy’s guilt over having so much effort expended on something which wasn’t even real.

“You’re a miracle worker, Shae,” she said, hardly recognising the woman in the mirror. That woman looked a good deal younger than Lucy’s thirty years, fresh-faced and bright-eyed, her hair elegantly arranged.

Shae laughed. “No miracles required when I’ve got such a wonderful canvas to work with. All we need now is the dress.”

Gemma set the camera down. “Let me help? Please? No shots until you’re in it, I promise.”

“Of course. It’s hanging up in the wardrobe right there.” Lucy gestured.

The only thing she was planning to wear under the dress was a pair of white silk panties and a blue silk garter Olivia had given her. Strapless, the boned corset of the dress lifted and supported her breasts perfectly when Shae laced it up for her, multiple layers of chiffon silk skirts falling just to her ankles. Lucy had flatly refused to wear the stiletto heels Olivia had tried to talk her into, preferring flats, especially since she knew she’d have to walk on sand to take the sunset photos on the beach which were part of the day’s plan. In the end they’d compromised on wedges with a one-inch heel, comfortable enough to walk all day in if she needed to.

While she didn’t officially have bridesmaids, the bridal shop who had provided her dress had outfitted Olivia, Nessa, Rosie and Jill with four silk sheath dresses in four different colours, with shoes to match. They looked like a garden of exotic tropical flowers as Lucy stepped hesitantly into the suite’s living area, bright and beautiful in turquoise, golden-yellow, emerald and fuchsia.

“Oh, you all look spectacular,” Lucy said, delighted. “Gemma, take some photos…”

They all laughed at her. “You’re the bride, darling!” Olivia took her arm, gently urged her into the middle of the group. “And you outshine us by miles, I must say. You’ll knock Bryce’s socks off.”

Gemma’s camera clicked rapidly as the friends embraced. Shae stood back, smiling a little wistfully, until Terry entered to tell them it was time to go.

“You look fabulous, darlings, but I don’t have time to pay you flowery compliments. Jerome’s babysitting Bryce and reports he’s in a bit of a panic.” Terry grinned at Lucy. “So let’s get you there on time, hm? I’ve got golf carts and drivers waiting downstairs. Move it, move it, ladies!” He clapped his hands together, chivying them from the room.

Of course, it wasn’t so simple. They had to pause everywhere, in the lobby so other guests could gawk at Lucy and Gemma could snap some more photos, at the golf cart where Shae helped arrange her skirt and tweaked her hair one last time.

Lucy felt as though she was about to burst with frustration by the time the procession finally got going, hers the last cart to roll away. Terry was driving her himself, Shae sitting beside him in case any last-minute adjustments were required to Lucy’s appearance, Gemma in the cart in front, even now hanging out the back to take more pictures.

“Are you okay?” Shae turned to ask as they drove slowly up the paved path to the scenic pavilion overlooking the sea where the ceremony was to be held. “You’re not wearing enough makeup to cover the fact that you’ve gone kinda pale.”

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