Kylie Cantrall's Arc

Chapter 48 of 78

The statement went out that night. By morning, the song was everywhere. Kylie sat at the piano with her coffee and let herself feel the quiet. The label had the music. The world had their words. But she and Arianna still had one secret plan the press knew nothing about. They were getting married. And Kylie had no idea how to make it happen without a camera catching every second. "I've planned tours," Kylie told Arianna. "I've planned albums. I've never planned a wedding." She pulled up a list on her phone and scrolled. "Every venue I know leaks. The hotels, the estates, the gardens. Someone always talks. If we book one, the news breaks before we say our vows." Arianna sat beside her. "Then we don't book one." "We have to get married somewhere." "We already have somewhere." Arianna touched the piano lid. "Your family's island. You go there alone. No staff. No drone found it once." She said it plainly, like she'd already decided. "No guests. No planner. Just us and the puppy and whoever we trust to sign the paper." Kylie stopped scrolling. The island was the one place she had never brought anyone. Not Malia. Not a boyfriend. She had gone there to write, to hide, to cry. It was the only property no reporter had ever named. "You'd want your wedding on a rock in the middle of nowhere," Kylie said. "I'd want it where they can't reach us." Arianna took Kylie's hand. "You keep giving me things the world can see. Give me the one day it can't." Kylie called her mother. She did not ask permission. "I need the island for a weekend," she said. "No crew. No cleaners. Just leave the key." Her mother asked why. Kylie looked at Arianna. "Personal," she said, and hung up. That afternoon a box arrived at the manor with no return address. Kylie had ordered it in secret three days before, the one thing she'd planned without asking. She carried it upstairs and opened it on the bed. A red gown lay folded in white paper. Hearts ran down the skirt in gold thread. Lace veiled the layers of skirt like glass. Arianna went still in the doorway. "I broke our rule," Kylie said. "I bought it without you. But it's a dress. You still have to be the one who wears it, or doesn't." She stepped back from the bed. "Your choice." Arianna crossed the room and lifted the gown against herself. The red caught the light. She turned to the mirror, then to Kylie. "The island," Arianna said. "This dress. Next weekend." "Next weekend," Kylie said. They had a place no camera could find and a date no one else knew. The wedding was real now, and it was theirs alone. Kylie folded the gown back into its paper and set it aside. There was still one thing left to solve. Someone had to marry them, and that someone would have to keep their secret.