Chapter 19

Friday morning dawned grey and chilly — classic late May. The weather did nothing to help Roy’s nerves. He was up early, dressed in his smartest casuals, with a hot flask of coffee and an iron resolve that was already beginning to rust at the edges.

Across town, Deirdre called Sonia into her office.

“How would you like to be a bride for the day?”

“A bride? What on earth—?”

She had been unaware of the Bridal Expo opening that morning at Addington Arena — a huge event, with exhibitors from around the country showcasing every possible aspect of weddings. Deirdre introduced Gloria, who explained the plan: to launch the expo with a bridal gown parade, modelled by local celebrities — Sonia included. She, along with the other models, would get the full works: spa treatments, hair, facials, massage, makeup, lingerie, shoes — and of course, stunning designer gowns.

ChTV will film it all, airing snippets live throughout the day. Then, at 4pm, a grand parade — with a “congregation” of invited guests watching the “brides” walk the aisle.

At first, Sonia was stunned. But as the plan unfolded, a small knot of excitement was beginning to form in her, though uncertainty still had the upper hand. Before she could give in to her negative emotions, Gloria whisked her off, trusting that the focused attention on Sonia would bring her fully round. From spa to massage, facial to makeup, hairstyling to wardrobe — it was a nonstop whirl of indulgence and transformation. There was a champagne lunch with, oddly, Sonia the only “bride” present.

“The others are on staggered schedules,” Deirdre explained breezily.

The carpark behind Addington Arena was nearly full when Roy pulled in. Anne was already there, leaning against her car, arms crossed tight against the cold. Celia arrived moments later, wrapped in a long navy coat, face unreadable. Then came the Streets, stepping out of a modest rental hatchback.

Roy greeted them with a smile that felt dangerously close to cracking. Guiding them inside, they gathered in a tight huddle as he ran over the plan one last time — where they’d sit, when to move, who’d signal what.

“Just remember,” he said, trying for levity, “if this goes belly-up, I take full responsibility. And probably a punch.”

Mrs Street gave a tight-lipped nod. Celia muttered, “It’s not too late to back out.” But Anne squeezed his arm, just briefly.

“You’ve got this,” she said. “And if you haven’t — we’ll mop up.”

As they approached the main entrance, Roy’s heart was pounding. The sight of Sonia’s TV crew van parked outside didn’t help. The ChTV1 logo gleamed on the van’s side, its satellite dish tilted skyward like a challenge. Roy swallowed hard. There was no turning back now.

He slipped inside, keeping low in the crowd, and the remainder of his group were quickly whisked behind the scenes by Gloria Simes, who was vibrating with glee.

“She’s just arrived,” Gloria whispered. “Had a bit of a strop about not being prepped beforehand, but she’s pulling it together. She’s now being prepped. Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”

Roy nodded, only half hearing. His ears were ringing. Every footstep seemed too loud. His palms were damp. It was like waiting in the wings before a massive stage entrance — except the script was unwritten, and the leading lady didn’t know she was in a play.

Still unsuspecting, Sonia stepped into the cavernous hall, scanning the floral arches and glossy booths with a practised eye. Her phone buzzed with an encouraging message from Deirdre: Go girl. You’ll look amazing.

Sonia glared at the screen. “I am going to kill her,” she muttered.

Gloria, intercepted her with a gushing grin and a pair of assistants in tow.

“We’ve got just the dress for you,” she cooed. “It’s going to be gorgeous.”

Sonia didn’t bother replying. She was too busy mentally rewriting her to-camera segment. She was still uncertain when Gloria hustled her into the dressing area for the final stop, wardrobe.

The assistants showed her to a changing booth, where she undressed and put on the new lingerie there for her. She admitted she loved the look and feel of underwear that she would never have afforded to buy.

The gown was breathtaking — simple lines, fitted bodice, flaring into a full skirt. Ivory lace, subtle and elegant, with a sweeping train and off-the-shoulder sleeves. Sonia stared at it for a long moment, then shrugged. She stepped into the gown. The assistants zipped her in, tugged gently at the bodice, fluffed the train. Her makeup was touched up. Jewellery was added. A small tiara was placed in her hair. Gloves were slipped on. A bouquet was placed in her hands. When Sonia saw herself in the mirror, she gasped. She felt totally transformed, a princess, and suddenly she now felt ready to take on the role. The only regret? That Roy will only see her like this on TV. One day, she thought with a smile, he’ll see it in person.

As Sonia left the changing rooms ready to enter the auditorium, a gentleman in a grey suit greeted her, offering his arm to escort her down the aisle. The aisle was brightly lit, the rest dimmed. Guests filled the seats — or seemed to. It was hard to see clearly, but there was a soft murmur that built into warm applause as she stepped into view.

As she did, something shifted. Her stride slowed. The dress, which had felt constrictive moments earlier, now moved like silk against her skin. She heard the soft pulse of the background music, the rhythmic beat that matched the thud of her own heart.

Halfway down the aisle, her escort unexpectedly stepped aside and another figure rose to take his place.

“Dad?” Sonia exclaimed.

“Doesn’t a bride need her father?” he smiled, guiding her forward.

Sonia was bewildered — particularly as she began to notice familiar faces in the audience. Friends. Family. She looked ahead, confused.

She neared the end of the runway — and froze. There, stepping out from behind a curtain, was Roy.

When she saw him, she stopped. He was in a dark suit, his usual rough edges smoothed into quiet elegance. He looked nervous but determined. A hush fell deeper across the room as he stepped forward, a velvet box in hand. She watched, heart pounding, as Roy dropped to one knee before her. The box opened.

“Sonia Street,” he said, his voice catching only slightly. “I love you. You are fierce, brilliant, stubborn, and utterly beautiful. You have shaken me to my core — and I’ve never been more alive. Will you marry me?”

A gasp rippled through the crowd. The cameras were rolling. The audience leaned forward.

She stared, stunned. “Are you serious?”

“Utterly, my darling.”

“So ... all this? This whole thing — this charade?”

“It’s not just a show, it’s real,” Roy assured her, rising to his feet. “My love for you is real. And if you say yes — we can be truly married. Today.”

Sonia wheeled on her father.

“Daddy — you knew?”

He nodded carefully. “Roy told us. And yes — we’ve given our blessing.”

She turned back to Roy, her face unreadable. For a moment she stared at him with an inscrutable face. Then: “This,” she said slowly, “is what you get for pulling a stunt like this.”