Forever Eve

Chapter 1

Sunlight. I fight the instinct to open my eyes and try to keep my face still. It's useless. I sit up to find Bo lounging on the chaize, reading the morning paper.

Pull yourself together, Izabel. He wants to get help. That's a good sign. There is a process to this kind of healing. We'll work on it together. He'll overcome this. He will. He will.

As I wipe away the tears, I see my wedding dress, a symbol of eternal love and happiness, now a mound of crumpled lace and tulle on the floor. Yes, he will overcome this. He will.

"Good morning, baby. I didn't want to wake you too early. You look so peaceful when you sleep." He rises and makes his way to my side of the bed and lingers over me. "I had some coffee brought up." He offers what appears to be an apologetic smile.

I stare up at him, my thoughts a scramble with scenes from last night. Fighting back tears, I reach for the mug. "Thanks."

He gently wraps his hand around mine, bows his head, and releases a big sigh. After a moment, he begins to pace along the edge of the bed. "Izabel, I'm . . . It's just you . . . sometimes you leave me no other choice. I'll talk to someone about . . ." he trails off. "My issues. Forgive me. I will make it right again."

I won't let him see me cry. I have to stay strong, but I know if I answer him, I won't be able to hold back a torrent of tears. I lower my eyes, nod, and hope I look agreeable. He leans down and kisses me on the forehead.

"All right then. I'll leave you to get ready. We're having breakfast with my parents. Meet us in the dining room in a half hour."

The door closes, and I collapse back onto the bed. I turn to my side and cradle one of the pillows to my chest, sobbing raggedly as I reflect on yesterday's events. It was supposed to be the best day of my life. My wedding day.

☐ ☐ ☐

The Carmichael's have spared no expense. I'm sure they have invited all of Illinois's most influential and affluent dignitaries, politicians, and socialites. It's a who's who of potential leads and allies that will help advance Bo's career, or so I've been told. I won't know most of my guests with the exception of a few old friends.

It's a glorious September afternoon. I'm standing in front of the large, ornate mirror that leans against the wall in the bridal party suite of the Waldorf Astoria. I don't recognize the girl staring back.

I'm glad I went with the strapless, lace vintage dress. Vintage always feels so familiar.

All my work at the gym has really paid off. I slimmed down, and the silhouette of the dress flatters my new shape. I achieved my goal of getting down to a size six—well, Bo wanted me to be a size six. The diamond embellished belt that's tied around my waist is the perfect finish. I look so tiny, and the dress falls elegantly down my hips, snug in all the right spots.

My hair is in loose tendrils down my back, pulled up on one side with a pin and adorned with a delicate cluster of stephanotis flowers. My makeup is light and natural looking, as usual. Too much, Bo says, makes me look like one of those "girls" that hang out on the north side of town, not a future governor's wife. I give myself one final look over and can't help but smile. Yes, Bo will be delighted when he sees me.

Finally—finally—this day is here. We've been engaged three very long years. Bo's father was adamant that he needed to establish himself on the political scene before he got married, even though the Carmichaels have a historic political lineage. I don't know how many times I've heard the story about how it all started with Lord Carmichael who served under King George II. From birth, Bo was groomed to carry on his family legacy. The right clothes, the perfect connections, acceptable behavior ingrained into his every thought and motion, into his very public being.