Chapter 4
It was after five in the morning, and the sky was barely starting to lighten.
I was jolted awake by my phone buzzing nonstop. It was the lead makeup artist from the wedding styling team.
"Ms. Blaine, we're downstairs. Is it okay if we come up now?" The voice on the other end was polite and professional.
I rubbed my aching temples, trying to sound normal. "Yeah, come on up."
After hanging up, I got up and pulled open the curtains. The gentle morning light spilled in, making me squint against the brightness.
I hadn't slept well at all last night. The unsettling dream and the lingering anxiety from waking up still clung to me.
I thought of Edmund.
I picked up my phone, almost dialing his number out of habit, but stopped myself with my finger hovering over the button.
He was probably getting ready too, maybe with his groomsmen fussing over him. Would I interrupt him if I called now?
And what would I even say?
Am I really going to tell him that a bad dream and some random anxiety made me want to hear his voice, to reassure myself he'll actually be there?
That would be so pathetic, and honestly, not dignified at all.
In the end, I put my phone down.
Either way, the wedding was still on.
The doorbell rang, and the makeup artist, hairstylist, and their assistants streamed in, arms loaded with makeup kits and hair tools.
"Good morning, Ms. Blaine," the hairstylist said.
"Ms. Blaine, we'll start with your skincare and base makeup first," the makeup artist said.
The apartment instantly buzzed with activity.
They sat me down at the vanity, and I let them fuss over my face and hair. Cleansing, moisturizing, priming, and drawing. Every step was detailed and felt endless.
In the mirror, my face looked pale, with faint shadows under my eyes.
The makeup artist worked skillfully, using primer and foundation to gently blend away the tiredness, trying to mask how exhausted I really was.
"Ms. Blaine, just relax. Close your eyes and rest for a bit. We've got everything covered," the makeup artist said softly, trying to put me at ease.
I closed my eyes like she said, trying to zone out, but random thoughts kept popping up in my head.
What was Edmund doing?
Would he really be there on time?
As soon as that thought popped up, it was like vines wrapping around my heart, squeezing tighter and tighter.
No way.
I told myself.
Edmund had been chasing me for three years. He had done so much for me.
He rented out billboards all over town to propose, bought a private island, and took care of every single detail himself. There's no way he'd bail on me today.
That was ridiculous.
I was overthinking things. Maybe it was the leftover feelings from getting over Orville, or maybe it was just pre-wedding jitters.
Yeah, that was it.
"Ms. Blaine, how do you like the eye makeup?" the makeup artist asked softly.
I opened my eyes and looked at myself in the mirror.
The weary look on my face vanished, replaced by delicate, refined makeup.
My brows and eyes were artfully shaped, making my features look even more captivating, and my lips were touched with a gentle mauve.
"It looks great. Thank you," I said, forcing a smile.
The hairstylist started working on my hair, pinning it up into an elegant chignon that would be perfect for the veil.
Time ticked by, second by second.
The sky outside grew brighter and brighter.
But even as the morning light grew stronger, my heart didn't feel any clearer. Instead, it felt like I was left hanging, the tension just building higher and higher.
My phone sat on the edge of the vanity, its screen dark and silent.
No call from Edmund, no message from him.
That was not like him.
Normally, he'd be texting me from time to time, asking how I'm doing or sharing how excited or nervous he was about today.
Why was he so quiet?