stuck… elsewhere, but I try to clear my head and focus on the present as I stand. “Hey. Sorry. I took an unexpected nap and didn’t hear my phone.”
I walk into his open arms, and he hugs me briefly, then holds me at arms distance. “You’re not ready,” he says, shaking his head, though there’s a hint of a grin on his lips. “And why do you still have that shirt? You know I can’t stand it. It’s crass and unbecoming of my future bride.”
I shrug, pulling away. “It’s my good luck charm for studying. And you’re right, I lost track of time, but it won’t take me long to dress.”
We have a gala to attend tonight, one I’m actually excited for. It’s at The Getty Center—a place I spend a lot of time for my grad work in Art Restoration.
Even as I think these thoughts, I feel a kind of conflict I can’t explain. Like I’m in the wrong place, with the wrong person. Like I’m not safe.
I shiver despite the warmth of the room as my fiancé’s attention is pulled to the desk where I’d just been sitting. I follow his gaze, first noticing the picture of the two of us hanging on the wall. We look happy. In love.
But then crimson blood begins dripping down the portrait, and I cover my mouth before I scream. I blink and the blood disappears.
What the hell?
I rub my eyes, confused by what just happened. My pulse quickens, and I look for something to distract myself, my gaze landing on the thick stack of cream parchment on the corner of my desk. I rush over, picking one up. “Our wedding invitations came,” I say, trying to keep the anxiety out of my voice. “What do you think?”
He takes it from me and studies the perfect calligraphy.
The honor of your presence
is requested at the marriage of
Ms. Celeste D’LeLune
to Dr. Corbin Cutter
Saturday, the thirteenth of October
Two thousand and twenty
At half past eight in the evening
He looks up and smiles, pulling me into another embrace, this one longer, more possessive, and I have the sudden and powerful urge to pull away and run, but that’s just silly. What on earth is wrong with me?
“They’re perfect,” he says, kissing the top of my head. “Just like you. Soon, we will be married and nothing, and no one, will ever keep us apart.”
20
Tears track silently down my pale cheeks. I don’t bother to wipe them away as I gaze silently out the window of my bedroom. Instead, I search once again for what has changed inside me. I should be happy. I don’t understand why I’m not. I live in a mansion on the coast of California with an attractive and successful man who loves me. I’m enrolled in the PhD program of my dreams. I have everything my heart could want.
And yet, I feel trapped in a gilded cage, a songbird who is denied her music. Especially now, as I turn from the window and stare at the gown Corbin bought me for the gala.
A sense of panic and the most haunting déjà vu overtakes me when I see it lying across our bed.
It’s sparkling blue and shimmers like sunlight on a perfect sea.
It’s the loveliest dress I’ve ever seen in my life. I reach for it automatically. The fabric is silky and soft in my hands, and I am gripped by a nausea that feels soul deep. In my mind, I see flashes of blood, of a beating heart, of death and violence. I release the gown and swallow the bile burning my throat, my hands shaking uncontrollably.
I sit on the bed and try to steady my breathing, the anxiety slowly receding, but leaving behind a dark cloud that sours my mood.
When I feel calm enough, I clench my teeth and slip on the gown and matching shoes, then style my hair into a French twist. When I look in the mirror, I frown. This isn’t right. None of this is right.
That disorienting feeling is back, and I have the sense of missing someone deeply, so deeply my heart hurts from it.
I brush the turbulent emotions aside and join Corbin in the living room. He’s dressed in a tux and nursing a whiskey. He smiles when I approach. “I knew that color would match your eyes perfectly,” he says.
I try to respond the way I should, with gratitude and excitement, but he narrows his eyes, clearly attuned to what’s lacking in my response. “You’ve