Anna/Étienne Epilogue

Epilogue

Anna and the French Kiss
Exclusive Epilogue

Today's the day.

For nineteen months, I've been counting down to this date. Each day introduced new excitements, reminding me that I was one whole day-an entire twenty-four hours-closer to being united with my fiancé.

Fiancé.

What a word.

"I left my pillow in the car," whines Seany. "Can you come with me, Mom?"

"I'll get it," I offer, lifting the ends of my extravagant, poofy, princess-like dress. Seany is going to be our ring-bearer, and it would be quite difficult for him to pursue his task without his pillow.

"No, sweetie," my mother begs. "Allow me; we don't want to risk your dress getting dirty or ruined."

"No, really; it's alright," I assure her as I shimmied between the door posts. "I'll be right back."

I take the back exit, navigating myself through various sets of doors until I finally reach the one leading to the parking lot. Immediately, the crisp breeze of the fresh, autumn air nips at my bare shoulders, forcing rows of goose-bumps to spring onto my flesh.

"Brrr," I shiver. I steer myself towards my mom's minivan, yanking the quadrangular, alabaster pillow from the central row of car seats.

Slamming the door shut with a practiced amount of force, I make my way back inside the church. The church in which our wedding will be held is almost as exquisite and admirable as Étienne himself.

Almost.

When I reach my bridal room once again, I am met with my bridesmaids. My long-time best friend, Bridgette, stands amongst my two female friends from my high school in Paris, Meredith and Rashmi, and my two newer friends, Lola and Isla. Lola is engaged to a boy that Étienne and I use to work with in a movie theater in San Francisco, and Isla is dating our friend Josh.

My lovely best friends are adorned in floor length, amethyst gowns designed by Lola. Despite her unique and individualistic style that vastly differs to mine, the dress she had styled for me was entirely me-both distinct and traditional.

The tops of my bridesmaid's dresses were identical to my own: a mermaid style neckline, consisting of a gilded outline. At the waist of their frocks is a thin belt composed entirely of beads. The bottom half, however, is a plain ripple alternating between amethyst and puce.

Contrary to theirs, the foot of my dress explodes outward with dozens of layers of fluff beneath. Sectors of the material are bunched together in various sections, allowing the satin to flow freely down the remaining length of the dress.

A lengthy, elaborate veil cascades down my back, blending with my equally long train. A pair of strappy, ivory stilettos house my newly-manicured tinted toes. My nut-brown hair is curled into an intricate half-up, half-down design, my platinum stripe illuminated by a French braid. My makeup is based off of my favorite classic actress, Audrey Hepburn.

I'm not usually one for self approbation, but I sure feel magnificent today.

Likewise, our groomsmen are wearing lavender vests and ties, paired with saffron Oxford button-down shirts and slacks. However, like me, Étienne is festooned with the classics: an inky black Tuxedo, tie, and slacks with a snow white Oxford peeking out underneath.

Our wedding colors, orange and purple, correspond with the light, playful mood of September.

"Anna, it's time to line up," my mother announces, delicately guiding me to the door. Following closely behind are my bridesmaids and Seany. Soon, though, we are met with the men.