68 Days And Counting

Bonus [3]: You Should Get Married More Often.

The amazing drawing at top was done by @/shundsnes on Instagram <3

I'd say I'm about two to three years late on this bonus chapter but then again this book was never meant to be written.

Better late than never, right?

It's January 2nd where I'm at and Sam's birthday in this version of the universe is on the 1st and in the pubbed version of TBBATTB it's on the 3rd so it was a good day to drop it. 

(This bonus should be split into two but I kept it at one because I'm lazy.)

Bonus [3]: "You Should Get Married More Often."

I HATE IT when I'm nervous.

Playing soccer growing up left me with multiple occasions where this feeling didn't seem to exist. It was only masked by adrenaline. There were some important games where the feeling overtook my body. But no amount of soccer games prepared me for how I would feel on this day.

Looking at myself in the mirror only made me more anxious. My hair that I had outgrown for this specific occasion was pinned up and I didn't even want to touch it for fear of messing it up. A white broach held up the loose brown curls, a few of them framing my face. I wore makeup too but the look was natural enough for me to feel comfortable.

I stood in a large office in the east corridor. It wasn't the office that Charles had once used but it didn't look like anyone had been here for a while. Paintings and high bookshelves adorned the walls. Windows as well. The chandelier above me twinkled with the welcoming sunlight and in front of me stood a tall mirror that had been brought into the room for today.

Luckily, today was a sunny day. The weather in Bath wasn't super hot. Then again, the months that I was ever in this city never truly hit extreme temperatures. I was glad the sunlight came raining down upon our open "backyard" wedding at the Cahill castle. When we had announced where we wanted the wedding, Ivan claimed we were copying him even though he got married back home. That resulted in Sam punching him in the arm.

"Is it normal to be this nervous?" I asked, staring at my dress in the mirror.

The dress was strapless and bejewelled with white and clear beads that faded off along the ballgown. Shopping for it was insane. It had taken forever for me to find the right outfit. After a debate with Liz over whether I should have a train--to which I reminded her that if I fell flat on my face at my own wedding, it was going to be on her--we settled on an A-line dress without a train.

Liz came up behind me, placing her hand on my shoulder. "Yes. You're doing fine. No regrets?"

"None. Never." I admitted quickly. Despite my nervousness, I felt good. 

"You look beautiful," Liz whispered. She looked as elegant as ever. Her jet-black hair encompassed in a long straight ponytail and the dress she wore was dark blue with a sapphire pendant dangling around her neck. At her words, tears sprung to my eyes along with a laugh I couldn't suppress as she wrapped an arm around me. "No, no, no. Don't cry yet."

"I swear all the makeup is waterproof."

"Well, it took forever to even put mascara on you. You'd think years later, you'd change."

"I wear mascara when the time is right," I said.

"The time is right today and you were still fighting the makeup artist," Natasha said as she walked into the room, adjusting her green dress, similar to what the rest of the bridesmaids were wearing. On her hip was her daughter, Elena, who was latched onto her mother in her poofy dress. She was our flower girl.