Amelia

Prologue

Amelia was not glowing.

The old stereotype stated that all brides were supposed to glow on their wedding day. They were supposed to look beautiful, resplendent, and have the light of the sun emanating from their pores. This was not the sight that greeted Amelia on her wedding day.

"Oh, darling, you look simply gorgeous!"

Gorgeous? I look like a fish. Amelia thought, looking closer at her paler-than-usual body stuffed into a glittering silver mermaid gown. A dead fish.

Her mother didn't seem to agree, although, she had picked out Amelia's dress. And makeup. And the hairstyle. And shoes.

I thought brides were supposed to have the ultimate say? But then again, Amelia hadn't really had a say in anything regarding the wedding. The venue was chosen by her soon-to-be in-laws. Decorations –flowers, seat covers, center pieces, table cloths- were all hand-picked by the prestigious wedding planner. And the groom? Well, he was chosen by her father.

"Straighten up, girl! You look so fat when you slouch!" Amelia thought she would look fat no matter what her posture was, considering the dress was two sizes too small and figure hugging. She was smart enough to keep this remark to herself.

"Stop wobbling! The heels aren't that tall; you should be able to stand in them, at least. Oh, Henry, Henry! Come look at our darling diamond!" Amelia watched as her father, stiff and uncomfortable, slowly peeked into the room. He remained in the doorway, fearing the frills and sparkles that littered the floor. He gave Amelia a tight smile. "You look lovely, darling."

Amelia returned the smile with equal amounts of stiffness. "Thanks, Dad." She wobbled her way over to her father and grasped his arm, hoping to steady herself –both her body and her nerves. "You may have to carry me half the way." She hoped the joke would ease the tension. Her father smiled.

"Nonsense, we'll just toss you the rest of the way!"

"Henry!" The shrill voice of her mother indicated that the joke was not well received. "You will do no such thing. And no carrying! Those shoes are not that difficult to walk in, Amelia, if you actually try. Now the two of you, get to your post. We can't keep Alexander waiting!"

...

Alexander Harold Quincy III was as posh and polished as they come. His father was the CEO of a large advertising agency, and Alexander was set to take over after the wedding. Atop his head sat a halo of perfectly rounded angelic curls, his cherubic face boasting two clear blue eyes. His smile was straight and white, lips not too full or too pink. He was perfect in every way –except that he expected others to be perfect, too.

"Hold tight, darling. I wouldn't want you running off ahead of me." Amelia's father gave her yet another tight smile. She couldn't be sure if he was joking or being at least a little bit serious. Amelia knew she could not run in her heels.

Everyone stood up as the music started, and Amelia's heart lurched into her throat, preventing her from saying anything back to her father. The two thick wooden doors that separated her from her fiancé were thrust open, and suddenly Amelia and her father were rushing down the isle. If I break my neck from these heels, do we still have a wedding?

When the pair reached the alter, Henry placed Amelia's shaking hand in Alexander's and, giving his daughter a firm pat on the back, turned to take his seat. Amelia gave a shake-y smile to Alexander, one which he returned all too gracefully.

When it came time to recite their vows, Amelia and Alexander turned to face each other. She half expected Alexander's eyes to roam down her body, but his eyes stayed respectfully attached to her own. "Young Alexander, you may go first."

Alexander sent the priest a dazzling smile. "I, Alexander Harold Quincy the Third, take you, Amelia Jane White, to be my wedded wife from this day forward. To have and to hold, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, till death do us part. According to God's holy law, this is my solemn vow."

The words were spoken in a crystal clear voice, reverberating off the walls and back into the ears of the five hundred guests in attendance. The priest then turned his attention to Amelia, who was still wobbling in her shoes. "And now you, miss."

"I- " Amelia coughed, cleared her throat, then began again. "I, Amelia Jane White, take you, Alexander Harold Quincy –the third, to be my hus- my wedded husband. From this day forward. To have and to hold, for richer or poorer, in ...sickness and health, for better or worse, until death do us part. According to God, this is my vow –my solemn vow."

By the end of the speech, Amelia's face was red and her hands were shaking in Alexander's grasp. She had butchered the words –she knew she had. Her nerves had gotten the best of her.

"I now pronounce you, man and wife." Respectful clapping could be heard from the guests. "You may now kiss the bride."

Alexander leaned forward and lightly pecked Amelia on the lips, a barely there pressure that was acceptable in public spaces. It was the first time they had truly kissed.

The married couple turned to face their audience, smiling broadly with two hands still clasped.