Page 100 of Mine Again
“Well, at least he’s hot to look at. I bet he’s glorious naked.”
I burst out laughing. Then hiccup. Then laugh harder because of the hiccup. The whole thing is ridiculous and terrifying all at once.
Dario helps me up, and the second I’m on my feet, the room tilts, the lights smear at the edges, and I sway, clutching his arm for balance.
“Whoa, babe.” His grin fades into concern as he steadies me.
He grabs a plate from the vanity and holds out a cracker.
“Here. Eat something. You need to soak up that alcohol.”
I shake my head, the motion making the spinning worse.
“No time.” The words are thick on my tongue.
“At least drink some water,” he says, snatching a glass and holding it out to me.
I try to wave him off again, my hand clumsy, the gesture slow.
“I insist,” he says more firmly, pushing it into my hands.
Rolling my eyes at him, I take the glass and drink, reluctant but compliant.
“All of it.”
“Bossy.”
He just grins at me. Once I set down the empty glass, he guides me into the Carolina Herrera dress I picked this morning, smoothing the ivory silk down my sides. Simple. Elegant. And nothing like the dress I once imagined.
That one would have been softer, flowing, with a train and a veil long enough to catch the breeze.
No veil now. No train. No reminders of the girl who planned to marry for love.
Dario kneels to slip on my matching heels, his touch gentle as he fastens the straps. Then he loops his arm through mine and guides me toward the door, his steps slow and steady like he’s leading me through a dance. And still I wobble.
“Oh dear, you’d be better off in flats.”
Probably.
“I’ll manage,” I try to assure him, though I sound less convincing than I’d like.
My heart pounds loudly beneath the silk of my dress, and my legs feel like they belong to someone else.
A few inches from the door, Dario stops and turns to face me, his hands on his hips, one brow arched.
“Alright, babe. Let’s see what we’re working with. Show me you can slay that aisle.”
I blink at him, the world still swaying. “You’re joking.”
He grins, fanning himself with invisible drama.
“Do I look like I’m joking? Go on. A trial run. Give me bride.”
I take a shaky breath and let go of his arm, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.
The silk whispers around my legs, the absence of a bouquet suddenly heavy in my hands. I manage a few steps, rocky but upright.
Dario claps softly, the sound as delicate as the smile he gives me.
