Déja Vú

Dressed For Deception

"I think the aisle needs more flowers," I say to the planner, and he nods immediately, gesturing to the movers to bring in another arrangement.

I am exhausted.

The kind of tired that settles into your bones and makes even standing feel like a chore. The kind that no amount of sleep fixes, because it isn't physical — it's everything else.

Immediately we landed, Ashton had driven me straight from the airport to the Aiko store in Paris to pick up Kathani's dresses. In his Mercedes, of course. Despite my protests. I barely had time to process that we were in Paris before I was being pulled into fittings, fabric discussions, last-minute changes. From there, it was straight to the hotel — and even then, I didn't get the chance to shower before I was dragged into overseeing Kathani's dinner arrangements and the rest of the wedding details.

Of course, sly Kathani had booked Ashton and me into the same room. The entire hotel was booked out, apparently, and there was no way to get another room. Which meant, unfortunately, I was stuck sharing with Ashton.

The universe clearly had jokes.

"Ma'am," Dylan, the wedding planner, says, walking up to me with a polite smile. He's holding a glass of orange juice in one hand and a small paper bag in the other. "This is for you."

I take both automatically, confused. My fingers curl around the cold glass first, then I peer into the bag. Inside is a box and a folded card. I open the card first.

Those legs were looking well and truly sore.
Felt you needed a break.
Yours,
Ashton.

I blink once. Then twice.

I pull the box out of the bag and open it.

White Nike sneakers. Clean. Simple. Laced delicately with small white pearls. Underneath them, a pair of white ankle socks, neatly folded.

I stare at them longer than I probably should.

Something warm settles in my chest before I can stop it, and I absolutely hate that it does.

Kathani would definitely murder me for this. No question about it. But my feet are throbbing, my calves feel like they're on fire, and I am too tired to care.

I glance around quickly, then bend down, slipping off my heels. I pull on the socks, slide my feet into the sneakers, and sigh — a deep, involuntary sigh — the moment my feet touch the ground properly.

Relief floods through me.

I put my heels back into the bag, take a sip of the juice, murmur a distracted "thank you" to Dylan, and turn back to the arrangements, feeling marginally more human.

"You bitch," I say with a smile as I walk into Kathani's room, a dress bag hanging from my hand.

I'd finished up about an hour ago and finally managed to shower before coming to drop off her dinner outfit. Ashton wasn't in the room — which was a relief I didn't bother questioning — but he'd left a note saying he had to handle some business. I'd already texted him when he needed to be back and where to meet me.

This would be the first time he'd be meeting all my friends and family properly. We couldn't arrive separately. Not with my mum already halfway to suspecting something was off.

"You really had to book the same room, didn't you?" I ask, dropping the bag onto Kathani's bed as I walk over to where she's sitting, makeup halfway done.

"We couldn't have our families getting suspicious, could we?" she says, not even pretending to sound innocent. "And all the rooms were booked."

"Liar," I say immediately. "So how do you explain the fact that the room has no couches? Just one-seaters?"