Hiiii! Hope everyone's holiday season is off to a cozy and peaceful start. We're moving on to part three of Rosalie's wedding day – heads up, May 6th 1933 is going to take at least six chapters to get through. I've got plans for our girl!

Enjoy and please share your thoughts :)

Saturday May 6th, 1933

Wedding Day

Esme's eyes twinkled as they met mine – just for a moment as she crossed the threshold into the sitting room. My heart skipped a beat, and I had to force my face into a mask of boredom and resignation before Carlisle followed her in.

Doctor Delusional stepped in behind his wife, resting his hands on her delicate shoulders, and took in the sight of Edward and I sharing a space. He seemed pleased by what he saw.

"How are you feeling today, Rosalie?" he asked gently.

"Peachy," I spat, staring out the window again. "Real pretty weather for a vigil."

"We know this is going to be a hard day for you, dear. If there's anything we can –"

I cut him off. "Can you spit in his face for me?"

He shook his head, but his eyes softened. I wondered if any bloodthirstiness lingered in him, or if his pious self-assurance had chased it out long ago. "Would that I could."

Esme and I answered him at the same time, though her tone had considerably less venom to it: "No, you wouldn't."

I was still looking outside, but heard him kiss the top of his wife's head. "Your faith in me is the reason I breathe."

I felt like dry heaving. Of course he'd interpret that as praise. Men. Such fucking idiots.

The midmorning sun beat down on the lawn, bathing the spring growth in its warm rays. Blue sky stretched forever overhead. Perfect weather for a wedding-vigil, indeed.

It gave me pause.

"How…?" I began, doubt creeping into my voice. "How will you be able to attend… the service today?"

"Luckily, it's an indoor ceremony," Esme answered.

"But you have to get there."

"We'll take the car and park it in the shade," she told me. "And we've tailored our formalwear to accommodate for situations like these. Gloves, long hems, wide-brimmed hats. And strategic movements. We'll be just fine."

"Okay," I shrugged, but felt considerable relief as I let go of that worry. I'd thought about how Edward and I would navigate today's climate conditions, but hadn't let myself fully consider whether they would impact Carlisle and Esme's plans. At least I wouldn't have to concern myself with that part of the plan falling through.

Carlisle took the floor again. "Edward? We can still count on you to keep Rosalie company here, and be a gracious companion for her on this difficult day?"

"You got it," Edward muttered.

"Your good deeds are not done in vain," he continued. "The Lord will reply, 'Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me."

"Yep. I'm doing it all for God." Edward's sarcasm floated out of him, and I had to stifle a laugh when I heard a page turn. I knew exactly how dismissive it felt to be the third wheel in a conversation between Edward and one of his stupid books.

"Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God has forgiven you."

"Keep the verses coming, Carlisle," I sighed. "I think you're really getting through to him."

"Maybe we should go get dressed," Esme suggested.

"...A fine idea," Carlisle sighed, the exasperation evident in his voice as he swallowed whatever Bible quote he had teed up for us next.

I felt the air move behind me, and their presence disappeared upstairs with them.

There was a brief silence before Edward ruined it. "You knew those were Bible verses?" he asked with feigned surprise.

"Of course I did."

"I'm impressed."

I narrowed my eyes, not buying it.

"...I didn't know you could read," he quipped.

And there it was.

Read this, motherfucker, I thought to him, picturing myself giving him the middle finger.

To my surprise, he huffed out a half-laugh through his nose. "Not bad."

—

Carlisle and Esme, shockingly, descended the stairs dressed in all white.

On my wedding day?

The sight of them struck me as so disrespectful, so laughably cruel, that I could barely put together a sentence. What ultimately tumbled out of me was: "Excuse you?"

"It was the request of your family and the Kings that everyone attending the vigil wear white," Carlisle said sullenly, slowly. As if talking to an aggressive animal.

"Let me guess – they think that I'm so vain, I'll show up just to curse everyone out for wearing white to my wedding?"

Esme ran her hands over the waist of her ivory dress, looking absolutely lovely. "Well, they didn't want everyone to wear black, dear. It would presume the worst regarding your disappearance."

"That's demented," I asserted. "How thoroughly awful."

"Indeed." Esme stepped forward and gently circled her arms around me. I flinched, then gingerly returned the embrace. I hadn't realized how much I'd been craving a physical expression of comfort.

Carlisle stepped forward, meaning to join in the huddle behind his wife, but I hissed at him before he could even raise his arms. He stepped back and folded his hands behind his back.

"How long would you like us to stay?" he asked me as if I hadn't just spat at him like a street cat.

How long did I want them to stay?

I didn't want them to go at all, but I needed Carlisle to be occupied while Edward and I set Oliver's execution in motion. The smart thing to do would be to grant myself as much time as possible with my answer.

"Until midnight," I said softly. "Until the end."

Esme let me go, placing a hand upon my cheek. "Is there anything you want us to say to your parents? To your family?"

"Well, given my limited options, there isn't much," I grumbled. "Unless you can suggest to them that they sold their daughter off to a scumbag."

"I'm afraid that's not possible," Carlisle murmured.

"I know it's not. Of course it's not."

But still – I wished there was a way to get them some semblance of the truth. If not for my parents' sake, then for that of Tom and Tony.

A lump caught in my throat as I realized that they would grow up, and I'd never get to see it. They'd marry and have children, little nieces and nephews of mine, who I would never meet.

The lump turned to acid as I realized the company they'd grow up in. The older boys they'd have to look up to. The behavior they'd witness, the secrets they'd keep to fit in, never knowing how their sister had suffered at the hands of those they admired.

And Tom – Tommy. Fourteen years old and already learning the secret fraternal codes and handshakes of the Kings and their cronies. At our dinners at the King Estate, he'd been so nervous about making a good impression. Maybe he was already caught up in it.

Daddy wouldn't be a good guide. His silence had been bought – literally. Royce's father signed his checks.

Even if I were alive and around to save them from the cesspool of society that had taken my life, there was nothing I could say.

Who would listen to me?

Not that I'd have the courage – or the wherewithal – to speak up in the first place. I'd have been too hypnotized by flower deliveries and sparkly presents and designer grapefruit.

There was nothing I could say, or could've said.

So I said as much. "I have nothing to say to them."

I straightened up and flipped my hair over my shoulder, making for the stairs. I paused before ascending.

"Actually… tell them to hold out hope. Tell the Kings, too. Look Royce in his eyes and tell him that you truly believe in miracles, that I'm alive and well, and that his bride will come back for him, because it's what a man like him deserves."

Carlisle's face was wary with trepidation. Esme's eyes shone.

"Please," I added sweetly.

Carlisle sighed. "As you wish, Rosalie."

I headed up the stairs, giving my closing remarks as I went. "Goodbye, then. I hope it's miserable."