Farrahâs happily-ever-after was so tangible she could taste it. Yet . . . and still her legs were begging her to run, but instead of moving, they were firmly planted in place. London was right: She could just get up and walk away, but sheâd come too far to turn back now. Farrah was determined to step out on faith. She just prayed that she could trust Mills and that she wasnât making the biggest mistake of her life.
The doors to the church sanctuary opened and Farrah took the first step toward the rest of her life. This is it, she thought, as Babyfaceâs âEvery Time I Close My Eyesâ played through the church speakers. Farrah began her walk down the aisle and it was as if she was in a fairy-tale wonderland. Everything was exactly how she had always dreamed it would be. The entire church was adorned with gold and silver crystal chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings. There were white calla lily clusters tied with a cream silk ribbon hanging on the edge of the pews and a beautiful, handwoven diamond-embroided runner laid from the foyer of the church leading up to the pulpit. Deep red rose petals were scattered atop of the runner and Farrah looked like a queen as she swiftly made her way toward her husband-to-be. If only for this moment, she felt like everything was perfect. She looked at Mills, standing at the front in an all-white custom-made Cavalli suit and their eyes locked. She could have sworn she saw a hint of fear or hesitation behind his eyes, but she quickly dismissed it as she placed her hand in his and they were instructed to turn and face the pastor.
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The salty, intoxicating smell of the Mediterranean Sea sent Farrahâs senses into shock, causing her eyes to pop open and her to jump up in a rush. There she was, in a king-sized bed that wasnât her own and in a bedroom that wasnât her own. Farrah had no idea where she was or how sheâd gotten there. All she knew was that mountains and crystal-clear blue water were right outside her bedroom window and that she was on a yacht. As she raised her left hand to get the crust out of her eye, she was blinded by the ice on her ring finger.
Two bands filled with diamonds sat under and on top of her five-carat princess-cut engagement ring. Instantly, memories of her wedding day flooded her mind. Farrah had felt so unsure of her decision after the church ceremony that she immediately popped a Xanax when she got to the reception. After the ceremony, she immediately felt like she shouldâve waited and called the whole thing off. But sheâd already said âI doâ and there was no turning back, so instead of dealing with her feelings, Farrah drank.
She drank so much that half the night was a blur. She didnât remember her and Millsâs first dance or cutting her six-tier cake made by Sylvia Weinstock. She did, however, remember during the plane ride to their honeymoon destination in Sardinia, Italy, popping two more pills and then dozing off to sleep. Farrah had to get a hold of herself and quick.
Drinking her problems away was not going to solve a thing, so she made a mental note to lay off alcohol for a while. Hungry as hell, Farrah got out of bed in search of food and Mills. She didnât know where she was going, but the tantalizing smell of food led her in the right direction. As she walked throughout the yacht, Farrah took in its beauty. The yacht theyâd rentedâappropriately called Dream âhad seven staterooms, an elevator that traveled via all four decks, a Jacuzzi, lounge area with a full bar, gym, sky lounge, and a crew of twelve.
âGood afternoon, Mrs. Mills,â a short Italian woman spoke. âYour husband has been worried about you.â
âMy husband,â Farrah repeated.
I have a husband, she thought, letting the fact sink in. Mills is my husband.
âYes, Mr. Mills. Heâs on the second-floor deck.â The woman pointed.
âOkay, thank
The doors to the church sanctuary opened and Farrah took the first step toward the rest of her life. This is it, she thought, as Babyfaceâs âEvery Time I Close My Eyesâ played through the church speakers. Farrah began her walk down the aisle and it was as if she was in a fairy-tale wonderland. Everything was exactly how she had always dreamed it would be. The entire church was adorned with gold and silver crystal chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings. There were white calla lily clusters tied with a cream silk ribbon hanging on the edge of the pews and a beautiful, handwoven diamond-embroided runner laid from the foyer of the church leading up to the pulpit. Deep red rose petals were scattered atop of the runner and Farrah looked like a queen as she swiftly made her way toward her husband-to-be. If only for this moment, she felt like everything was perfect. She looked at Mills, standing at the front in an all-white custom-made Cavalli suit and their eyes locked. She could have sworn she saw a hint of fear or hesitation behind his eyes, but she quickly dismissed it as she placed her hand in his and they were instructed to turn and face the pastor.
Â
Â
The salty, intoxicating smell of the Mediterranean Sea sent Farrahâs senses into shock, causing her eyes to pop open and her to jump up in a rush. There she was, in a king-sized bed that wasnât her own and in a bedroom that wasnât her own. Farrah had no idea where she was or how sheâd gotten there. All she knew was that mountains and crystal-clear blue water were right outside her bedroom window and that she was on a yacht. As she raised her left hand to get the crust out of her eye, she was blinded by the ice on her ring finger.
Two bands filled with diamonds sat under and on top of her five-carat princess-cut engagement ring. Instantly, memories of her wedding day flooded her mind. Farrah had felt so unsure of her decision after the church ceremony that she immediately popped a Xanax when she got to the reception. After the ceremony, she immediately felt like she shouldâve waited and called the whole thing off. But sheâd already said âI doâ and there was no turning back, so instead of dealing with her feelings, Farrah drank.
She drank so much that half the night was a blur. She didnât remember her and Millsâs first dance or cutting her six-tier cake made by Sylvia Weinstock. She did, however, remember during the plane ride to their honeymoon destination in Sardinia, Italy, popping two more pills and then dozing off to sleep. Farrah had to get a hold of herself and quick.
Drinking her problems away was not going to solve a thing, so she made a mental note to lay off alcohol for a while. Hungry as hell, Farrah got out of bed in search of food and Mills. She didnât know where she was going, but the tantalizing smell of food led her in the right direction. As she walked throughout the yacht, Farrah took in its beauty. The yacht theyâd rentedâappropriately called Dream âhad seven staterooms, an elevator that traveled via all four decks, a Jacuzzi, lounge area with a full bar, gym, sky lounge, and a crew of twelve.
âGood afternoon, Mrs. Mills,â a short Italian woman spoke. âYour husband has been worried about you.â
âMy husband,â Farrah repeated.
I have a husband, she thought, letting the fact sink in. Mills is my husband.
âYes, Mr. Mills. Heâs on the second-floor deck.â The woman pointed.
âOkay, thank
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