Amelia

Chapter One

The wedding procession led them from the church to the two limos awaiting at the entrance. A few congratulations were delivered along with the clapping from the spectators. The wedding party, consisting of Alexander's friends and my bridesmaids, climbed into one limo while my new husband and I made our way towards the second limo, alone.

"Well, glad that's over." The clapping ceased as Alexander shut the car door. "Now off to phase two, and then we can finally retire for the night."

"Oh, yes, sleep. That would be wonderful." I had never felt so tired in my whole life. I suspected it had something to do with the six inch heels my mother had forced me into.

"I suppose many people would want to crawl into bed after that embarrassing stunt earlier."

My head swung to face Alexander. "What stunt?"

"Those horrible vows you sputtered out. Goodness, Amelia, you sounded like you were a chain smoker."

"Oh, no! Was I that bad?"

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure I can convince the photographer to edit that out of the final film. Can't say it'll do any good for everyone's memories, though. They were practically laughing at you."

I felt my cheeks grow red, my breath stopped in my lungs. "They were? Everyone?"

Alexander nodded his head slowly. "Yes. Well, expect your mother. She looked downright horrified. How could you do that do her? Did you forget the words?"

"No, I memorized them all last night!" I shook my head vehemently. In fact, mother had made me repeat the vows until I was sure I had been whispering them in my sleep. I can't believe I screwed them up! This is so embarrassing!

"Well, never mind that now. We must put that aside, and you must try to redeem yourself at the reception. Remember: grace and poise. No more stuttering and wobbling. Honestly, Amelia, any woman could walk in those shoes!"

...

I had to admit, the reception was beautiful. The ballroom in one of my father's company buildings was littered with square tables and gold table clothes. A giant ice sculpture of a swan stood behind the wedding table. And all around the room, vases and vases of red roses bloomed in the setting sun. My mother loved roses.

As we sat down at our table, having been announced via trumpets, I noticed something very important was missing. "Alex, where's the dance floor?"

Alexander's eye twitched slightly. "It's right in front of us darling. Now, please, I told you, it's Alexander."

I looked in front of our table, seeing the ten feet of space that separated our table from those of our party. How is everyone going to be able to fit on that small square? I didn't dare voice this thought.

"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, excuse me." The piercing voice of the wedding planner thundered over the chatter in the room. "Thank you. We would first like to welcome you all to the White Empire Ballroom, courtesy of White Empire Furnishing Industries." A few moments were spared for applause. "We would like to introduce the fabulous symphony orchestra, which would be so kind as to grace us with our first dance this evening: the traditional father daughter dance!" Again, applause were in order.

I gracefully rose –I had taken the deadly heels off, only to slip them back on after I was standing- and went to meet my father in the middle of what was apparently the dance floor. He gave a small smile, sweat glistening off his high forehead. Like myself, Henry White did not like an abundance of attention. Funny how he became one of the CEO's of a nation-wide company.

For weeks my father and I had attended dance lessons under the direction of my mother, who hired an old friend as an instructor. I had mastered the dance fairly well, but never in six inch heels. I didn't want to embarrass myself any further.

I grasped father's sweaty hand and, with the first few notes of Por Una Cabeza, we began to move. One, two, three, one, two, three. I could hear the instructor's voice in my head. Or maybe he was really whispering it, as I saw him at table five mouthing the instructions. So far, I had not stepped on any toes –father's or my own.

A sudden vibration tickled my hip. We stopped, and father reached into his pocket to retrieve his cell phone. He looked up with a regretful expression and thankful eyes.

"Sorry, darling. It was a lovely dance." Without escorting me back to my seat, father left the room to answer his phone. There was some applause as I shakily made my way back to the table.

"He just left."

"Of course, Amelia. He is a very busy man, your father. Business takes no vacation days." Business takes no vacation days. Alexander's words echoed in my head. He was right, of course. In all my twenty one years of living, I don't think it even took a sick day.

After the mother-son and in-law dances, and the three course meal of salad, soup, and stuffed lobster, it was time to cut the cake. It was beautifully decorated with white roses and diamonds. Five layers, finished off with a ribbon on the bottom and two stiff wedding dolls on top. The chef handed Alexander the knife, and he made the first cut. Then it was my turn.

Oh no, please let me be wrong. I wasn't. The cake, so beautifully deceiving on the outside, was deadly on the inside –at least, deadly to me. Doesn't mother know I'm allergic to almonds? Why would she agree with almond cake?

Alexander was getting ready to do the customary feed-your-partner-the-cake, but I knew I couldn't allow it. "Alexander, I can't eat this."

His eye's rolled. "Amelia, if you don't like it, don't eat your slice. But you must eat this little piece."

"No, you don't understand, I'm-" The piece was shoved into my mouth and, to avoid choking, I instinctively swallowed. Hurrying through Alexander's bit, I made my way to the bathroom, choking and gasping with fear. I hunched over the toilet, sticking my finger down my throat, hoping to expel the almonds from my system. Halfway through, I heard the bathroom door clang open.

"What was that?"

"Mother, I'm-"

"A lunatic? Clearly. How could you just rush off like that? Where is your decorum?" Mother soothingly ran her hands down her dress, smoothing away imaginary wrinkles. "Now, you get back out there missy and dance with your husband."

"But mother, the almonds-"

Mother raised a hand to silence me. "I know you don't like almond cake. Fine. Don't eat it. Just get back out there, dance, and then you can get out of here and stuff your face with whatever junk you want." This was a lie, of course. I had to keep my figure.

Lightly patting her hair, as if a strand had sprung out of place, mother turned to face the mirror. "And fix your hair, girl! Honestly, you look absolutely sick!" Mother finished with her hair and quickly repined mine before shoving me back out the door.

The orchestra was silent when I found Alexander waiting for me on the dance floor. As soon as my hand came in contact with his, the musicians picked up their instruments and the notes of Pachelbel's Canon. I felt dizzy as Alexander and I twirled, the many unknown faces around us blurring until they formed one massive colorful ring around the dance floor. I could feel the sweat dripping down my forehead.

Finally, we made our way back to the limo, Alexander having said goodbye to the last of the influential guests. My stomach was rolling, my palms were sweating, and my vision had blurred to the point of blindness. I laid my head against to cool glass window and shut my eyes to the pain.

"What was the matter with you back there? I thought we had agreed you would try to redeem yourself from the vows. What was that?"

As an answer, I threw up in his lap.

A/N Hey guys, this is my first story on here and I would love any feedback you guys have! Thanks!