Five

"Girl, wake up!" Andra yelled, shaking me half-haphazardly.

I groaned, burying my face deeper into the pillow. "Nooo, Andra. What time is it?"

"It's 7 a.m.! You're going to be late for your own wedding!" she shrieked. "Wake up, Janice Felicia O'Brian!"

"Shit!" I cursed, jolting upright as panic surged through me. I was going to be late for my own wedding.

Without sparing a second glance, I dashed into the bathroom, taking the fastest shower of my life. By the time I stepped out, Andra was already waiting, towel in hand. She helped dry my hair before sitting me in front of the mirror, her fingers already working their magic.

I exhaled deeply, still catching my breath. "Thank you, Andra," I murmured sincerely.

Finally taking a good look at her, I realized she was already showered, her makeup flawless, her hair done to perfection—though, true to Sandra fashion, she was still draped in her robe, no doubt savoring every moment before slipping into her dress.

"My mom and sister should be here any minute," Andra said, her hands moving swiftly to adjust the pins in my hair. "I told them to grab some fresh strawberries and pineapples on the way—perfect for calming nerves."

I gave her a grateful smile. Just then, the sound of a car honking outside caught her attention, and she rushed to peek out the window.

"Looks like they’re already here," she said, returning to my side. Grabbing a makeup brush, she started working on my face, her movements calm and confident.

Andra’s family was like my own—loving, supportive, and always there when I needed them. Her sister, a sharp, sassy 18-year-old with dreams of becoming a scientist, was a force to be reckoned with. And her mom—beautiful, graceful, and in her 50s—was the heart of their family.

"I’ll be back in a minute," Andra cooed, setting down the brush and stepping out to open the door. When she returned a few minutes later, she had a bowl of fresh fruit in hand. Without hesitation, I grabbed it from her, nibbling on a strawberry and sighing with relief at the sweetness.

"Are they downstairs?" I asked eagerly, feeling the excitement bubble up inside me. With everything else falling apart, at least today was going according to plan.

"Yep, they’re downstairs, and they’re asking for you," Andra replied with a grin.

"Well, they should come up!" I said, practically bouncing with energy.

"Nope," she said, giving me a playful but firm look. "No one gets to see you until you’re all ready. We’ve still got an hour and a half. And with the drive to the church, we’ve got even less time than that."

"Fine," I sighed, not loving the time crunch but understanding. "But hurry up! I’m tired of sitting here forever."

The minutes flew by as Andra worked her magic with my makeup, making me feel more like a bride with every stroke of the brush. My nerves were still there, but I couldn’t help but feel a little calmer now. Maybe it was the excitement of finally getting to walk down the aisle, or maybe it was Andra’s presence—she always knew how to distract me from my worries.

"Almost there," she said, stepping back to admire her work. "You look perfect. Layden’s going to lose it when he sees you."

I couldn’t help but smile, but it was more out of habit than any real confidence. My heart pounded in my chest as I thought of him. Layden. The man I was about to marry.

Andra seemed to sense my hesitation. "I know you're nervous, but today’s your day, Janice. This is the start of your forever."

I nodded, trying to calm the fluttering in my stomach. There were still a million thoughts rushing through my mind, but I didn’t want to dwell on them now. Not when everything was finally falling into place.

A few minutes later, Andra stepped back, her eyes lighting up. "Okay, let’s get you dressed."

I stood up, feeling the weight of my wedding gown.

The gown was scandalous. I couldn’t deny it even if I tried. It clung to my body in all the right places, hugging my curves with a relentless tightness that I couldn’t escape. The lace—delicate but bold—covered the fabric, barely concealing the skin beneath in places. My chest, exposed by the plunging neckline, felt almost too bare, yet it was perfect. The lace traced the curve of my collarbone, dipping dangerously low as if daring someone to look.

The slit... Jesus, the slit. It ran all the way up my thigh, revealing way more than I was used to. I could already feel the weight of every eye in the room as I moved, the daring cut flashing just enough to leave things to the imagination. It was a wild move—one I’d never thought I’d make, but here I was, about to walk down the aisle in this audacious thing.

The mermaid cut—tight all the way down—accentuated my hips and ass. There was no hiding in this gown; every curve, every inch of me was on display. I wasn’t just walking into a wedding—I was strutting into the room like a woman who knew exactly what she was doing.

And the train? It dragged behind me like a long stream of lace, heavy and dramatic, trailing as if to make sure no one forgot I was making a statement. I could feel it every time I took a step, like a weight that both burdened and empowered me.

This wasn’t the dress I’d always dreamed of, but it was exactly the one I needed. It was bold, daring, and most of all, it was me.

"You’re are a vision," she whispered as she worked.

The sound of voices echoed from downstairs—Andra's mom and sister were still waiting. I could hear them laughing and talking, the energy of the day buzzing through the house.

"Are you ready for this?" Andra asked as she fixed the final touch on my veil.

I took a deep breath, glancing at myself in the mirror. For the first time all morning, I felt a wave of calm wash over me. This was it. My wedding. The day I’d been dreaming of for years.

"I think so," I said quietly, a small smile playing at my lips.

"Then let’s do this," Andra grinned, pulling me towards the door.

As I descended the stairs, the weight of the day settled in my chest. Today was real. Layden was waiting for me at the altar. The wedding was happening.

Gasped whispers followed me as I made my way down. I glanced over at Sally and Yvonne, both of whom seemed as nervous as I felt. My heart raced, but I couldn’t stop the rush of excitement that followed.

"You look... absolutely stunning!" Yvonne breathed, pulling me into a tight hug.

"Good morning, Yvonne. Hello, Sally," I said, my voice shaking just a little with anticipation. I returned Yvonne’s hug before pulling Sally in for one as well.

"Thank you, Yvonne," I said, smiling through my nerves.

"You're welcome, darling," she said with a wink. "Is everyone ready? My husband’s already at the venue and you know how he gets when he’s kept waiting." She laughed, her easy-going nature making me feel a bit more at ease.

"I told you, Jan, you were going to be a vision," Andra teased as she bounded up the stairs to fetch her dress and my heels. When she came back, she helped me slip them on, making sure I stood steady while Sally adjusted my bouquet and Yvonne held me upright.

"I forgot my bracelet!" I suddenly realized, panic rising in my chest. It was the emerald bracelet Adonis had given me, the one that matched the jewelry Layden had gifted me for our wedding. It was too important not to wear. It wasn’t just any accessory—it was an emerald colored diamond bracelet and it cost a fortune, it would be a shame not to wear it given the occasion.

Sally quickly returned with it, and I slipped it on, feeling a comforting weight on my wrist. I glanced at Andra, who gave me a quick nod of approval.

Andra, as usual, looked like a dream in her breathtaking asymmetric strapless mermaid gown, paired with pearl jewelry that matched her dress. She looked absolutely stunning, and I envied her effortless poise.

"Let’s go get them, Jan!" Sally said with excitement, making us all laugh in unison.

We made our way outside, and I slid carefully into the SUV with Yuvone and Sally, while Andra took her own car. The ride was a blur of anticipation, nerves, and the overwhelming sense that I was on the cusp of something life-changing.

When we arrived at the hall, John—Andra’s dad—was already there to greet me. He helped me out of the car and adjusted my bouquet, steadying me as we made our way toward the entrance. The soft strains of "Here Comes the Bride" echoed in the air.

John smiled at me warmly, sensing my nerves. "It’s going to be alright, sweetie," he reassured me, his calm presence offering some comfort.

We walked into the hall, the sound of the piano accompanying each step. The weight of the moment pressed in, and I took a deep breath, preparing myself. I was getting married. Another man—John—was leading me to the altar.

"Thank you, John," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. He nodded without a word, offering me his quiet support.

As I stepped into the hall, the crowd shifted, their eyes on me. Some watched in awe, others exchanged hushed whispers. A few gossiped, some even looked at me with disdain, but I forced myself to ignore it all.

I kept my gaze fixed ahead, toward the altar, where Layden stood waiting for me. He looked every bit the man I had dreamed of—tall, brown-haired, fit, and strikingly handsome. His familiar smile lit up the room, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

Despite the frustration I felt over his silence the night before, I couldn’t help but soften at the sight of him. Layden was here, and he was mine.

We reached the altar, and John gently placed my hand in Layden’s. A shy blush crept up my neck as Layden’s touch sent a warmth flooding through me. His eyes, brown and warm, locked onto mine, and in that instant, I was lost.

This was it. My forever.