"Crusified Christ." I say as I close the door to e room Vicy is in.
Okay so you know that term bride-zilla? Well Vicy would make Godzilla cry about now. I love her but Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! She's lost her bloody mind. Get me this, get me that, where's my CC? She really didn't like when I said 'probably shooting himself'.
I look down at what I'm wearing, I'm not dressed for the wedding yet. I wear blue jeans, Chuck Taylor's, a Rangers sweater, and of course my Yankees cap. I'm not very happy about the whole dress thing, actually I hate the idea.
I walk through the hall and into the kitchen. The soon to be Mrs Deville is demanding wine and making me what to jump off a building but that's besides the point. God, I think I need a drink. I run my hand across my stomach, did I have to be knocked up?
I pour some wine into a coffee mug (partially just to piss her off) and walk back into the room. When I get there, Vicy is still in her mood.
"Mia! Come on you have to get ready!" She calls from the hairdresser's chair.
I mutter curse words in Irish and pull the dress out of the bag. I look stupid in dresses to start with, not to mention the colour of it. Purple with a white belt, I look horrible in purple. I step into the purple strapless dress that falls to me knee. I look so dumb. I scowl into the mirror. The worst part of it all isn't even the dress, I have to wear heels and can't wear my cap. I stand barefoot and look at myself in the mirror. I don't know how to wear a dress, I have long legs and a long torso. I miss my jeans.
The hair dresser and the makeup artist do me all up pretty. I have the biggest urge to rub my face. My ginger hair is curled and falls are my shoulders. The artist does my eyeliner so it's winged out. Everything they do make me more and more uncomfortable.
"You look 'o, how do you 'ay? Beautiful!" The French make up artist says.
I have to bite my tongue so I don't say 'what did I look like before?'.
Vicy sends me to get her more wine. Which I don't mind, other than the fact that I have to go outside of the room looking like a porcelain doll. I walk back into the kitchen room to see Rikki.
He's sitting on the counter wearing dress pants and a black button up. When I walk in he smiles and I drop my gaze.
"I feel stupid." I state as I pull Vicy's wine from the fridge.
"You look beautiful but it's not you." Rikki wraps his arms around me from behind me. "Vicy being insane to?"
"Very." I say and Rikki kisses my neck.
"I love you." He mumbles into my neck.
"I love you to." I say and turn around in his grasp. "So, so much." I reach up to kiss his lips.
I should tell him. I should tell him that's I'm pregnant. I mean he deserves to know. But what if he leaves?
"I should go back to my mom." I say quietly when I pull away.
"Okay. Promise me when we go home you'll shower and take all that makeup off." He says.
"I promise." I say and he kisses me again.
I go back to Vicy's room with her wine and she gives me a look.
"What's wrong, Minnie?" She asks.
"Everything." I mumble but she hears me.
"What?" Vic asks.
"Don't worry about it, it's your day." I state and she walks over to me.
"Mia Arleen, tell me what's wrong now." She states.
"For starters look at what you're making me wear." I look down. "I'm scared Rikki will leave."
"He wont, he loves you." Vic picks up my face.
"You can't be sure, Vic." I frown and she smiles.
"I am. Don't worry, I'll kill him otherwise." She smiles. "Let's get me hitched."