By the time Patrick left that night, we’d barely touched and had only said a few words to one another that were uninterrupted. I understood what Kevie and Peg were trying to do, but that didn’t mean I agreed with it. I hadn’t seen my fiancé in a little more than a month, and we were given absolutely no room to reconnect or even exchange ‘I love you's’ before he was shuffled off to Kevie’s for the night.

By the time I got into the shower the next morning, I was strung tightly with nerves and the fact that I hadn’t had any time with Patrick made things infinitely worse. Was he having any doubts? Was he as nervous as I was? Afraid he was doing the wrong thing? And my most terrifying thought—did he wish that he’d never asked me in the first place, and now felt stuck trying to do the right thing?

We were getting married. Married. And I still wasn’t even done with school. I hadn’t seen the world. I hadn’t climbed the corporate ladder or gotten drunk or had sex. I’d done nothing at all to give me any life experience… yet beneath all that, I was still giddy with excitement.

It was an odd feeling, wondering if I was doing the wrong thing, but still willing to jump in headfirst. It made my hands shake and my palms sweat and my belly feel like it was crowded with a hundred butterflies.

I shaved my legs and my armpits before glancing down my body, chewing on the inside of my cheek. A magazine I’d been reading had mentioned trimming the hair down there to look more appealing, but I didn’t have anything to trim it with and I’d felt too embarrassed to ask Peg where the small scissors were. I looked back and forth between the razor and my pubic hair for a moment before lathering up with soap and taking a deep breath.

Maybe if I just ran the razor lightly over the top of the hair it would trim it down a bit. I could make it just a bit less bushy and shave the edges a little so it looked more uniform. I ran the razor lightly over the frothy soap, coming away with a disgusting amount of hair that I quickly washed down the drain.

Okay that wasn’t so bad.

I did it again and again, until I was sure that things would look fantastic. I set the razor on the edge of the tub and turned toward the showerhead to rinse off. That wasn’t so bad. I bent at the waist to take a closer look.

Then I screeched in horror.

Dear God.

Oh, my God.

Shit.

Shit.

Fuck!

It was patchy. Patchy! It looked like my vagina had mange!

My hands started shaking as my eyes filled up with tears. What had I done?

“Are ye okay?” Peg called from beyond the door.

“No!” I yelled back.

Before I could change my reply, Peg had barged into the room and pulled back the shower curtain. I couldn’t even raise my head to look at her, my eyes frozen on my mangled thatch of hair.

“What in God’s name did ye do?” she asked incredulously.

“I don’t know!” I wailed, finally looking up. “I tried to trim it! I just wanted to trim it!”

“Why on earth would ye do that?”

“I read it in a magazine!”

“I told ye to stop readin’ those bloody things!”

“I know! Oh, my God. We have to postpone the wedding. We have to.” I babbled frantically, water dripping down my face. “Patrick can’t see me like this!”

“Ach, he’ll see ye much worse.”

“Not on my fucking wedding night!”

A small laugh bubbled up in her throat as she glanced back down, and I knew then that I would not be getting naked anywhere near Patrick for the foreseeable future.

“Ye’ll just have to take it all off,” she informed me as if it was the most reasonable thing in the world.

“What?”

“Take it all. Ye cannot leave it as it is,” she answered, gesturing in the general vicinity of my hips.

“What if I cut myself?”

“I suppose ye’ll just have to be very, very careful.”

She pulled the shower curtain closed between us while I stood gaping at where she’d just been.

“And hurry it along, we’ve an hour before we have to leave for the church!” she called before slamming the door behind her.

I had no choice.

I lathered up and reached for the razor again.

After a few close calls, some very interesting contortions, and the loss of hot water, I’d finally shaved everything to the best of my ability. It felt odd without the protection of my hair, and every time my thighs slid against my lips it was like a little jolt, reminding me of what I’d done.

My long shower had seriously cut down on my preparation time, and Peg scrambled to get me ready. She blow dried and brushed out my hair while I did my makeup, complaining the whole time of my decision to leave it long down my back “covering the beautiful lines of my dress.” I couldn’t be swayed, though. Patrick liked my hair down. He couldn’t keep his fingers out of it. The loose hair stayed.

We were five minutes late and both flushed with exertion as we finally left the house, but the short drive to Peg’s church was thankfully enough time to calm both of our heated cheeks. Peg reached across the seats and gripped my hand hard before climbing out of the car.

“No need to be nervous.”

I was shaky as we entered the side door so no one would see me, but by the time I stood at the large wooden doors at the back of the church, a feeling of unnatural calm had settled over me.

I was ready.

Chapter 20

Patrick