Becky Mentore has given up on marriage and men. After dating way too many losers who aren't capable of appreciating who she is, she's about ready to resign herself into the life of an independent woman, that is until her so called billionaire boss R...
"It's really nice," I said, lamely. "Thanks, Emma. I couldn't have done it without you."
"Doesn't even need a single alteration," she murmured, walking around in me in circles and touching and tugging at various parts of the dress. "Even I didn't think it would be this perfect."
"And you're so humble, too." I smoothed the dress over my hips one more time, as if it would somehow cement the idea that this was really happening.
"Shut up. You love it." She turned towards the door. "Don't move, I'm going to find you some accessories."
She came back with some lovely silver pieces that matched the red accents - were those real rubies? - and before long I was out the door, and on my way to the hairdresser's to settle on a style for the "big day." I hated that phrase, but with everyone around me using it at least three times per hour, it was inevitable that it would become a regular part of my vocabulary. I hadn't had a hot iron in my hair since prom, and I almost wanted to choke on the smell of all the hairspray. But at the end of it, with all my hair piled on my head and my tiara on top, I actually looked like a bride. As time went on, it was even starting to feel real. The weekend before the wedding, Riad came over to help me pack, as he'd insisted.
Mostly everything was in boxes already, and I was going to send over everything I didn't absolutely need for the next few days. Together we spent the better part of the morning loading up a U-Haul, and every time he hefted a box I felt bad for not just letting him hire a moving service. But he didn't even show a hint of complaint or frustration with the process, even when I did.
I ordered pizza for lunch. I was becoming a lot less self-conscious about my choice of eating establishments, which was nice. He seemed to enjoy it as much as I did, and while we sat holding our slices on my empty living room floor, I figured it was as good a time as any to bring up my faltering finances. It was more awkward than I had expected - then again, with me, everything usually was. I talked circles around it for ages, until he finally prodded me to just spit out what was on my mind.
"I have a few bills..." I started, and he raised his hand to tell me I'd said enough.
"Just give everything to me," he said. "I'll see that it's taken care of." "Some of them aren't...small," I said. "And when I called to cancel my utilities, they threatened collections if I didn't take care of everything within 30 days."
"Don't worry," he said. "It's going to be all right." And suddenly, I knew that it was. Until that moment I hadn't realized how much I'd worried about this - even though it was ridiculous to do so, I'd fretted over how he might respond, how he'd feel about the fact that I was being so needy and demanding before we were even technically married. Not to mention how many sleepless nights I'd spent before he came along, wondering how the hell I'd ever manage to pay everything off by myself. I could actually feel the muscles in my shoulders relax slightly, after being held tense for God knows how long. "Thank you," I said, perhaps a little too fervently, judging by the surprised look on his face.
"Beckyy," he said. "This was part of our arrangement. I'd take care of you financially during this time. It's the least I can do, you don't have to thank me."
"It's just...I've been so worried for so long, wondering how I was going to ever get out of debt. And now it's gone. I don't have to worry anymore."
"That's right," he said, smiling. "No more worrying."
I still have no idea why I thought it was a good idea to lean over and kiss him. Perhaps it was meant to be a friendly peck, or maybe in the back of my mind I thought someone might be peering in through the window. Or maybe, just maybe, I couldn't help myself.
