Page 152 of The Temporary Bride

For several minutes, I stand in front of the mirror, biting my lip and toying with the ends of my styled waves. My hair is softer today, falling loose around my shoulders, unlike the intricate updo I had for our first wedding.

Ivy’s excited yelp breaks me out of my trance. I turn to see her in the doorway, bouncing on her toes, her eyes wide as she takes in my appearance. She looks radiant herself, her dress flowing around her as she practically vibrates with enthusiasm.

“Oh my god! You look absolutely stunning!” she gushes, rushing over to me. “Tristan is going to lose his mind when he sees you.”

I can’t help but smile at her energy, a flush spreading across my cheeks. “It’s just a simple dress,” I say, brushing off the compliment, but Ivy shakes her head emphatically.

“Simple? Maybe. But you’re glowing, girl. Oh, and your hair! And your makeup! Did you do it yourself?”

I nod, meeting my reflection’s gaze once more. I chose the palette to match the dress: nudes and metallic gold, soft and understated. A hint of mascara. It’s a far cry from the thick, vivid eyeliner that hid my expression at the last wedding.

Ivy’s eyes mist over as she takes in my reflection. She waves a hand in front of her face, looking up as she blows out a breath.

“Oh, no—don’t cry yet.” I shake my head, clasping my hands together in a mock pleading gesture. “I want to make it down to the beach before I start crying, and you’re gonna make me lose it.”

She blinks quickly to hold back the tears and gives me a watery smile. “But you’re so beautiful,” she whispers, her chin quivering. “I’m just—I’m so happy to see you and Tristan like this. You’ve been through so much, and now… it’s like you’re stronger than ever.”

Her words touch my heart, and I turn to face her. We’ve gotten close in a way I didn’t know was possible for me. I don’t know if I’ve ever had a friendship like this. Ivy is like a sister, more of a sister than Genevieve has ever been.

“Ivy…” I start, unsure of what to say, but she just pulls me into a hug.

We rock back and forth like that a few times, and when we separate, we share a little smile. But hers slips a little, a look of worry flitting across her face.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“Oh.” She starts a little, as if surprised that I picked up on the change in her energy. “It’s nothing. Definitely nothing I want to bug you with on a day like today. It’s just… I think my parents are going to try to arrange a marriage for me. I don’t know who it’ll be with, and it kind of terrifies me. I’ve never wanted something like that. But seeing you and Tristan, how perfect you are for each other? It gives me hope.”

Her vulnerability catches me off guard, and I reach out, squeezing her hand. “It’s scary,” I admit. “I won’t lie. But love doesn’t always find us in the way we expect.”

I pull her into another hug, holding her close as if to transfer some of the strength and reassurance I’ve found in my own journey.

“It’s all going to work out,” I promise. “I used to be so unsure about things, never really believing that life would turn out the way it’s supposed to. But now… it’s hard to deny that it has for me. And I know it will for you too.”

Ivy squeezes me back. “Thanks, Chloe. I’m so glad I have you as an honorary sister-in-law.”

Her phrasing makes me laugh, but that’s basically what I am, considering how close she is with the Thorne family. We separate, and she dabs at her eyes before doing the same to me, making sure that my mascara hasn’t smeared.

“Now let’s get you out there,” she says, her voice brightening. “Your husband is waiting for you!”

Ivy and I head downstairs. The house is empty, the lights dim. It was our backup location in case of poor weather, but the sky is clear and cloudless, already turning pink as the sun dips toward the ocean’s horizon. We head outside into the back garden and find our way onto the beach. By the time we reach the expanse of soft, white sand, I’m questioning my footwear a bit.

“Just take them off,” Ivy whispers, and I smile. She’s right. I pause, then bend down to slip off my heels, letting the warm sand cushion my feet.

Much better.

A beautiful driftwood arch is set up in the sand, flanked by the dunes to the left and the crashing waves to the right. Our guests are seated in simple, elegant chairs arranged in a semi-circle around the arch, which is decorated with white flowers, fluttering in the salty air.

Off to one side sits a grand piano. When he sees me approach, the pianist strikes up a soft melody.

Tristan stands at the end of the aisle, devastatingly handsome in a light suit. His gaze is fixed on me with a focus that never fails to make my pulse race.

The ocean breeze tugs at the hem of my dress like it’s trying to pull me toward him, the sound of the waves mixing with the soft murmurs of our guests. Everything feels perfect, like a scene from a dream, and any lingering nerves melt away.

I start my walk toward him. The guests fall silent as I pass. I’m too fixated on Tristan to look toward them, but their eyes are on me, their soft breaths mingling with the sound of the waves.

The sand beneath my bare feet is cool. The breeze keeps playing with my dress, lifting it in soft waves, and a sense of peaceful anticipation settles over me as I move closer to Tristan.

When I finally reach him, his eyes soften, his lips curving into a small smile that makes my chest tight. The world seems to fade away as we stand there, just the two of us.