Witness

12. Chelsea

A curtain jostles. Cecelia, behind it, squeals and jumps up and down, her stiletto heels tapping repeatedly against the marble floor.

"Are you ready?" She calls, excitement lacing her voice. 

"Yes," I reply blandly. 

Her best friend, Veronica, hisses at me. Like a snake. My eyes widen but I say nothing, leaning further back into the plush sofa and wishing it would swallow me up. 

Cecilia rips the curtain away and walks slowly out towards the six of us. Myself, our mother, Veronica, two of her other friends, and Dom's sister. Dom's mother, Cecelia's future brother in law, does not like her and therefore does not attend any of the wedding planning events. 

Lucky bitch.

She spins in the dress, grinning ear to ear, tears lining the corner of her eyes. Veronica gasps, eyes filling with tears too. 

"What do you think?" Cece asks, voice wobbly. Her hand hovers over the skirt of the wedding dress she wears, but doesn't touch it. 

My face remains stoic.

"At least feign excitment," my mother whispers through barely moving lips, still stuck in a smile.

I was excited, or at least could feign excitement. Twelve dresses ago. 

Each dress looks beautiful, each makes her cry, each makes Veronica gasp and go-

"I've literally never seen someone so beautiful." 

Forcing a fake smile onto my face, I reply to my mother with equally static lips, trying my best to not draw any attention. 

"How can I feign excitement when we've been here for almost three hours?" I whisper, as Veronica and Dom's sister continue gushing over my sister's beauty. "You're lucky I'm not faking a heart attack." 

"Chelsea," she scolds. 

The wedding stuff is getting real old. Every evening when I get home from work there's something new to do; re-shuffle the seating arrangement, digitally arrange the flowers, pick between five shades of pink for the bridesmaid socks. Barf. 

Deep down, I know the curling feeling in my stomach is just jealously. Sure, Cece is two years older than me, but she met Dom almost four years ago now. By her clock, I should've been with the guy I'm going to marry a year and a half already. 

"This one is nice, isn't it?" Cecelia asks us all, looking at our faces in turn. 

I keep that fake smile plastered on and give her a thumbs up. 

"Could I try it on in the long sleeve? I'm not so sure about these cuffs, either." 

The attendant who's life we're ruining nods and smiles politely, but there's a strain behind her eyes. She and Cece disappear behind the curtain again. 

Trying not to growl the words, I incline my head back towards our mum. "I thought she'd already bought her wedding dress?" 

"A wedding is important, darling," my mother replies, doing nothing to try and hide our conversation this time around. "Your sister just needs to be sure." 

My eyes near bulge out of their head. 

"So she does have a wedding dress already?"

Veronica clears her throat. 

She glares at me when I glance over to her, opening her mouth to say something bitchy, or snarky, like 'just because she's prettier than you', because she's never liked me. She's one of the newer friends, rich, stuck up, with a fancy lawyer husband of her own.