"Is there something I missed here, Lily, or does it really just not suit you?" Nixon asks, placing his coffee down on the counter as I stand before the massive mirror, a woman pinning the fabric around my torso. "I mean, we've had custom makers drop by frequently for the past week and nothing makes you smile yet."
He's right, none of these wedding dresses that I am dolled-up in have left me with a smile radiating across my face. Maybe he should rethink the idea that a dress would cause me to smile. Maybe he should rethink and understand that a perfect dress will not put a smile upon my face, but perhaps a change of life. As I look at the woman before me, I cannot recognize her as she seems like a total strange when compared to my dreams. In my dreams she wears a gown fit for British royalty, a traditional and simple dress cloaking her fair skin, lace along the sleeves, an elegant look, and her brunette locks pinned back in a beautiful updo. No, the woman before me looks nothing like that perfected image. No, for this woman has platinum blond hair pinned out of her face as bags settle under her eyes and a strange with some French last name stands beside her, holding up fabrics.
"What are we doing wrong?" Nixon asks, walking over to me as I stand tall in one of the mansion's extra rooms, this one transformed into a wedding preparation room. With mirrors surrounding me and the King-sized bed once merely for guests now polluted with different types of flowers and cards, Nixon has gone full out. Many thing it is the bride who makes sure to overlook every detail of her dream day, but this time, it is the groom to do so.
"It's just not what I had in mind," I respond, knowing Nixon will take it as a response to the dress and not to the whole idea of getting married. No. What I have in mind even a year ago was a simple wedding, Spring preferably, outside as my bridesmaids would wear blush pink and the doves would fly free as my lover and I kissed to seal the end of the ceremony. I dreamt of a wedding with mainly family and close friends, not a pack that I hardly know and my family kept off of the guest list. Nixon was not behind keeping them off the list, but I told him flat out just yesterday morning that they were not to be invited. "I just don't know what I would like," I add, hoping to add a little more life to the room that stands quiet for the most part as the French dress maker beside me places a pink pencil behind her pale ear. Scratching her black hair that falls over her shoulders in retro curls, her baby blue eyes scan me over for a fifth time in twenty seconds.
"I think I have an idea," she informs, French accent think as I remember her name to be Cher, having arrived in from Paris last night. Nixon really wanted the best in the business. Hell, the wedding planner...hell hath no fury like Alecia Huffington, a graduate of Oxford and someone sought out by celebrators. If anything, my dream wedding consisted of my mother and Taylor helping me plan color schemes and thinking of what the invites would look like, not some strange whose name I had to google. "We could try this." Cher holds out to me a sketch pad, a page tabbed with a blue marker, the sketch of a dress upon the page as I raise my eyebrows.
"Let's try it," I declare, looking over to Nixon to see his lips tug into a smile as he knows I finally show interest in something other than the guest list and my demand for no family of mine. If there's one thing I want with this dress, it's for that it to be done in time for the wedding...for I have no idea when I will start to show. Twelve to sixteen weeks will I begin to show, meaning that it would be good to know how far along I am exactly.
The fabric upon my body switches and soon enough I find myself in a white dress used as a baseline for the dress I could possibly be wearing. "Do you like it? The final dress will have more dimension and the trail for this one will be two yards or we can shorten it." Looking to Nixon through the mirror, I see his eyes locked upon my frame, upon how I look in the dress I may just be marrying him in. Marrying a male I've known for almost a year now. "What do you think?"
"I'll take it."
Fast forward five hours and here I stand, on the patio, right before the pool as I hold a cold beer in one hand and twirling around my wedding ring in the other. With my bare feet against the cold pavement and the sun set for the day, I look out at the garden, the luscious green grass stretching to the tall fence, and small trail marked by hedges, it looks like your typical rich man's backyard.
I picked the dress I'll walk down an isle to Nixon in, the white dress that is designed for some Queen as the color represents innocence. My dress should be tainted as I am. The veil will be just as beautiful, one that cascades down and frames my face like a piece of art. It is all too much, all like some dream wedding for someone other than me, for someone who knows that she is signing a contract to be bound to the devil for the rest of her life. Running is dumb. It's fucking stupid because it is selfish and ignorant. No one runs from Nixon, not at all, and I am not going to place my child in that danger. In that line of threat. Nixon would never hurt me, but I bet Lillian thought the same thing. But I am not Lillian, I am Lily, a human and unable to fend for myself like Lillian, a warrior and werewolf. But I have no one to have an affair with and even in our own twisted ways, Nixon and I could be compatible. Somehow, in some crazy way, we could balance the other out even if that makes me seem crazy and dumb. I see what relationship we have, how we can fight, but I also know we were once happy and filled with joy as we were beside the other. That way can happen again, but it will take time. It will take adjustment as well.
"I see we had the same idea," he informs, stating his presence as I know he's referring to the drink in my hands. No doubt he has the same alcoholic beverage in his own hand as well. Sliding the ring back on my finger, I look over my shoulder to Nixon, his eyes hooded as he watches me, his cheekbones highlighted in the darkness as his eyes seem to sparkle in the darkness. "One week away," he adds, walking up beside me as we stand facing the custom pool, the lights of the house all turned off. "Honeymoon after that for another week."
I look to the beer bottle in my hand, still full, and the cap off. "I can't drink and it bothers me." I cannot drink because of the child, but I have an urge even though I know it will only harm the child. "I like to just hold it now, the substance that could harm our child."
"For power?"
"Reassurance," I respond, tipping the bottle over as the contents spill out into the pool. Soon the alcohol will be drained from the pool, as if never there.
"Power is what it seems like, how you hold something in your hand that could harm another being yet you do not drink it. A lesser scale of what I possess," Nixon states, arm around my shoulder now as I set the bottle down upon the patio table. "Yet for me, when I hold that power-
"You usually use it and harm the person. My bottle is like your gun, how you murdered Gavin."
"I did what had to be done."
"Killing him was needed just to have me know not to fuck you over behind your back?" I ask, my tone harsh as I look up to the Alpha. "Killing him was not necessary."
"It was for me. He was part of a past I am erasing for us." Nixon sounds crazy.
"You killed him to scare me. Maybe a small part was to try and forget the past, but I know why you killed him. You killed Gavin to scare me, to threaten me. You mocked me with my escape after you shot him like a coward." I shove at Nixon, pushing him away from my body as I want to forget that night ever took place.
Nixon's eyes darken, his eyes following my eyes exact move as I head for the door to the house. As I escape into the shadows of the hollow mansion, Nixon seems to calm down a little, relaxing in his isolation as I shut the door behind me and turn around to face the kitchen. Nixon fixed up the kitchen from his last outrage, the chairs back on their legs, smashed dishes gone and replaced with even more expensive ones, and put together like some perfected kitchen in a magazine.
Passing through the room, I head for the main entrance, the stairs awaiting me as different types of flowers are set on every step. These flowers were tested by the wedding planner, trying to see which ones look best for the wedding that will take place in barely a week. So soon yet so far away. As my bare feet are placed upon every wooden step, I come to the top, heading to the right and for the doors that await like some nightmare. The bed is located before me, the massive bed that I once spent nights in just smiling and laughing as we enjoyed the small amounts of time we could get. I remember the holidays when Nixon surprised me with the necklace that now is placed around my neck, the sapphire gemstone upon the silver chain, as if a noose around my neck. The sapphire gem seems to pull down, like a heavy weight that tries and keeps me tied down to the world while a world of flying awaits.
Nixon is the chain pulling me down. Me, someone born with the most beautiful wings ever crafted, someone born to fly, yet damned as a man holds a single amount of power to weigh me down. Nixon is my anchor in this damned world, weighing me down and holding me sturdy at the same time, helping me complete tasks that I may not see as what I want. I am to have his child, our child, and I cannot think of a world where that child is without its mother or even its father.
Maybe our demons will one day become balanced. Maybe our demons will create a peace in our lives that could allow me to smile once again.
Maybe is a big word, but everyone dreams and has hope. And hope is a dangerous thing.
<><>
For someone seen to the majority of this town as their leader and someone to fear, Nixon Maxwell has his fans. Fans that watch me now like vultures, awaiting for me to fall short and for them to circle around and destroy the woman that I am becoming. Somehow they find a lust for the man that holds me at night and causes me to stress more than I ever have before. These females look at me like some garbage to take out, believing that the male I live with and am to marry can be changed for the better. Some of these people know he is trouble for the deeds he has done while some have no clue the fear Nixon can strike into someone. These innocent females see him simply as someone rich and a chance to be spoiled, to be dolled up and paraded around without a care in the world. They don't mind being some trophy, because that is how they see Nixon would treat them, yet they hope he may love them if they treat him right. If they do what he says, are there ready to be by his side whether he needs a friend or a lover.
I lean back, head resting against the headrest as I wait for Nixon outside a flower shop. I know that people gossip in this town, how thy think me to be a gold digger or that he's marrying me because I'm knocked up. They would be right about being knocked up, but we are keeping that under wrap, not allowing anyone to know of the child we have on the way that was created in a sin that our demons helped craft in their damned needs.
Turning up the radio, I try and shut out the laughed aimed at me, the two blonds and brunette staring at me as they grow jealous of the wonderful life they believe I live. They believe that Nixon offers me all I could ever ask for and all I have to do in return is get him laid. If only they knew the hollow screams that have filled the mansion where we dwell, the blood that has stained the floor, the body once spread out upon the piano, and the sins that come at night.
Nixon opens the door to the store, exiting as I see a small paper bag in his hands. The eyes of the women follow his every move, taking in his glorified presence as they sit up straight and ogle at the male I once laughed with. As the driver's door opens and Nixon slides into the Tesla that he owns, a soft kiss is placed upon my cheek and a small smile pulls at my lips. I like him like this, sweet and caring as I know it will not last too long. I treasure these moments where Nixon cares for me, holds me close as if no wrong has been committed between us, and shows me that we both strive after a perfected version of the relationship that we have.
"Hungry?" He asks, putting the car in reverse as I take my eyes from the women staring and place them back on those navy orbs that watch me. "Or should I drop you off first?"
"Just drop me off, I don't want to be late," I inform, watching the shop windows pass by as we head to my appointment. The wedding is two days away and we are just taking care of small appointments. As the car rolls to a stop before the familiar building, I turn to Nixon, offering him a gentle kiss upon his lips as I open the door. "See you soon."
I slide out of the car, heading in for the building as Nixon drives off, telling me to take my time. As I enter the small building, I'm greeted by the smell of chemicals and flowers, the woman who helped me create my new look standing by the chair that awaits me. Her eyes move to my ring finger, taking in the rock that states my relationship status. A smile graces her lips and I tell her the good news of the event to take place in only a couple of days, getting into the chair as I lean back and get ready for the local town gossip. With my hair trimmed and the bleach put at the roots, I sit in the chair, on my phone as I go through wedding plans and the time slots of the next two days.
"Please tell me you're dress is perfect," Opal adds to our conversation, checking how my hair is coming along as I pull up the picture on my phone.
"Arrived today if it goes well. It's coming in from London where the designer is located," I inform, looking at the dress with my hairstylist as I hear the entrance door open. Just as Opal greets the new customer, I look up through the foils around my locks of hair, only for my skin to pale as the woman looks to me.
Fucking hell.
"Lily." She's shocked. She's lost. She doesn't know how to react as I sit in the salon that she just happens to have an appointment at today. I cannot leave with these chemicals in my hair, but she's not one to back down and let me win. We may have a relationship that is tense and negative, but she won't leave. She doesn't want her name to grace the town gossiper's lips.
"Mom."
"Congratulations on your daughter's engagement," Opal states, spilling what I did not want my family to know about at all.
My mom looks shocked, betrayed as well as her shoulders that were once tense become limp and shock is written all over her face. "Yes, we are very excited," my mom replies, not wanting the town to know that I am practically disowned and that my parents were not told nor invited to the wedding the man I am to marry made me choose between. "She's a lucky girl."
She sits in the chair across from me, eyes moving to my ring as a scowl shortly crosses her lips as she sees the rock. She knows who I am to marry and she is not pleased whatsoever. I know she is pissed. I know she wants to scream and yell, for me to admit my sins and repent, begging for her forgiveness, but I know she would never take me back. I know my mother, how things are final when they happen. I left my family and she can never put that past us, she will not show mercy or forgiveness because her parents taught her that it shows submission to let someone who wronged you be forgiven. Somehow father fell for her. Somehow they married and had two children that became messed up. Ever since Gavin died I have not heard a single thing from Taylor nor will I even try to contact her. I tried to warn her and she basically said I could go screw myself for all she cares.
"Where is the honeymoon?" Opal asks, looking to my mother, asking her rather than me. My mother has no idea whatsoever.
"New Zealand and then Greece," I inform, not wanting Opal to know that my mother has no idea. I am helping my mother protect people from the truth of our family struggles. As Opal turns back to me, my mother looks to me, giving me a look that shows a small bit of thanks for covering for her. She is thanking me for making our family matters private, for the town to know nothing of this falling apart. "Nixon is exited." I see my mother slightly tense, hating his name. The man that she met once at a dinner and thought was no threat to her family. My father adored Nixon when they met the first time, chatting up a storm. That was before they discovered that I was with someone older than me and I chose him over my flesh and blood. If they knew I was pregnant...if they knew of the child to be born, they may even leave town. But Nixon and I are to leave town anyway, Nixon searching for our new residence where he already plans the room for our child and where things could go. He wants a more secluded home, one that allows the privacy that our fights may need perhaps.
"Let's see how your hair is looking," Opal informs, checking to see if my roots have lightened up to the color I want. My hair once a medium brown is now a whitish blond, one you would expect from a Pinterest page or Tumblr, just barely brushing my shoulders as I love the look and Nixon does as well. "Looks good."
As we finish up with my hair and my mother's hairstylist starts on her hair, I get up from the chair and see the black Tesla outside the salon. Telling Opal bye and handing her a check, I turn to my mother, meeting her saddened gaze as I take in a deep breath. "I'll see you Friday then," I inform, giving her a small amount of information, letting her know the day I am to marry a man she detests. Leaving the salon, I let out a sign, heading for the car as Nixon sits quietly.
His eyes follow me as I hop in, a hand running through my hair as he smiles. "You look beautiful."
I won't tell him about my mother.
"Ready to go?" I ask, Nixon driving the car from the parking lot and back to the main road as I look out the window. As we drive away from the woman that raised me, I move my hand quickly to my eyes, wiping away a rogue tear before Nixon can notice. "Any plans for the night?" I ask, knowing we made sure that tonight we would have no wedding business to attend to as tomorrow includes much.
Nixon shakes his head. "I was just going to grab a beer and watch some TV," he informs, looking over to me briefly as we turn onto the street where our home is located. Driving past the Adam's house, I let out a deep breath.
"Sounds nice," I reply as Nixon parks the car, exiting the car as he rushes over to my side, opening mine as I thank him softly. Hand in hand we enter the modern mansion, the dress I am to wear in two days placed in a pale pink box at the foot of the stairs. Nixon's Beta must have dropped it off while we ran our errands. If anything, I do not want to look at the dress until Friday morning when I get ready to take my vows. Nixon's sister will be my maid of honor, the pack our main amount of guests as it will be held within an old church. A church. How right for two people held in a relationship by their demons and the sins they have done. A church is so fitting for the couple that is damned by whatever power there is in the world.
Taking in a deep breath, I turn to Nixon as we enter the kitchen, my lips pressed against his as I need to forget the conversation at the salon.
As my legs wrap around his waist and the wall meets my back, the sins we committed are done again our demons dancing with the other as the moonlight soon consumes us. Maybe I will be happy, learn to be happy one day. It may be hours or years, but I can be happy one day. Happiness...is that too much to ask for?