Fake Or Real

Regina Flynn

Who gets married for revenge? Me, that’s who.

            I adjusted the straps of my white ornated wedding dress for what felt like the hundredth time, my hands shaky as I did. I was going to see Ryder Steele, my husband-to-be, at the alter in a few minutes and I couldn’t even control my racing heart. How was I supposed to live with him as his wife?

“Reg, this is just crazy,” Chelsea grunted, “You can’t live with that cold hearted monster! He’ll hurt you!”

I frowned, still standing in front of the mirror in the dressing room. I sighed heavily, put on my best fake smile and turned to look at Chelsea Miller. She was sitted a few feets away from me on a comfortable velvet-covered armchair.

She had that condescending smug smile on. It was for me, she would always give me that ‘I know your deepest darkest secrets’ smile every time she felt I was doing something all wrong.

 “Ryder Steele doesn’t deserve to be alive. The world needs to see the kind of person he really is and only I can do that,” I said under my breath as I turned to look at the mirror again one last time.

There was no going back now. The wedding ceremony was starting in less than twenty minutes and I was ready. As I looked back into the mirror, the woman staring back at me seemed like a stranger. My face was painted with layers of makeup, my strawberry blonde hair was pulled back tightly, and my body was weighed down by heavy silks and diamonds.

I wondered how I had ended up making this decision. The decision to enter a life long commitment with the man who ruined my family. Ryder Steele. A name I had always loathed and somehow feared.

He was the cause of my father’s death three years ago. He made my father a criminal, framed him for illegal real estate investing and market manipulation. He made him lose everything which ultimately led to his death. Ryder Steele was a murder, a heartless conman and I was going to be the end of him.

I heard Chelsea sigh, “You look good, by the way,” she paused, “And as your best friend, I support you. I just hope you don’t end up regretting this,”

I glanced at Chelsea through the mirror, she still had that smug smile on those beautiful lips of hers. I managed a weak smile, but my inside were turning to jelly and, I felt like screaming.

“Say something!” Chelsea huffed dramatically, adjusting her glasses.

Today, she wasn’t wearing black plastic ones. They didn’t have a prescription—her vision was perfect. But she claimed they made her face look slimmer and sexier.

I personally thought men who didn’t approach her because of the glasses— or lack thereof—didn’t deserve her. Chelsea was gorgeous, with her dark brown hair curling effortlessly around her shoulders. Her eyes matched the color of her hair perfectly, and the bright fire-engine-red lipstick she loved to wear did magical things to her lips.

She was in a black maxi black dress that stopped mid thigh with a pair of black heels.

I fidgeted when I heard a slight knock on the door, then came a feminine voice, “The ceremony is starting soon. We need the bride,”

Without hesitation, I slowly walked across the room, my dress rustling gently as I moved.

“Hey!” Chelsea’s voice rattled me and I stopped by the door, “Even though I can’t be the bridesmaid at your wedding, you have to be the bridesmaid at mine,”

“Get a man first,” I snapped with a soft smile before stepping out of the room and into the quiet and dimly lit hallway.

As my footsteps echoed, I could also hear my heart thumping in my chest. My mouth suddenly went dry at the thought that Chelsea and I had vowed to be each other’s bridesmaids since we were eight. It was like a friendship pact but once again Ryder Steele ruined that too.

He insisted on having his cousin, Ashley Morgan be my bridesmaid. How controlling could a man be to actually choose your own bridesmaids for your own wedding?