Passage 1

For a business gathering, the party was breathtaking. The decorating committee had gone above and beyond to make sure it was flawless in every way, from the streamers hanging from the balcony upstairs to the glass punch bowl. Every detail had been accounted for because even a single mistake would spell catastrophe. 

The proprietor of the evening, William Bellmonte, was particular like that. Everything had to be perfect. 

"Perfect!" He told the waitress who was carrying the tray too low. 

"Perfect!" He hissed to the pianist who skipped a note. 

"Perfect," He mumbled to his daughter, Florence Bellmonte. 

"Yes, father," Florence sighed. She was used to her father's perfectionism. Over the years it had only grown. 

It had started with her mother. Her beautiful, breathtaking mother. Every day her mother was perfect, every word she spoke was like honey. Then it had branched to his business. The numbers were perfect, the employees could make no mistake, however small. The reviews had to be stellar, the company stock worth all it could be! Nothing less than the best of the best for the great William Bellmonte. 

From there the word 'perfect' had taken its hold and had grown until it could not be uprooted. 

"She's perfect," Florence's mother had whispered the day she was born. From that moment on, the bar was set high. She had to be perfect in school, in her jobs, in gymnastics, and dance. Everything she tried, everything she loved, it was the best or nothing. 

When her mother died, Florence's father decided his whole world must be perfect, to fill the void she had left in his heart. He worked and worked and soon owned most of the town. His power and influence were never-ending and far-reaching, and always, always perfect. 

As for Florence, well, she decided to perfect her life as well. She took a nickname, Wish, to celebrate her recovery. And she began dating the perfect man. 

"Some party, huh?" Patrick Fredricks looked at Wish like she was his entire world. 

"Yes, of course. You know daddy," Wish replied, sipping her champagne. 

"Speak of the devil, here he comes!" 

Wish's father shook hands and clapped backs until he was in front of his daughter. 

"Florence, why aren't you greeting the guests? They all want to see how much you've grown!" He grumbled, shooing her away from her peaceful corner and into the crowd. 

"I'm not six, dad." 

"So, do something more than greet them! Give them a show! Come on, Patrick, how long have you been dating my daughter?"

"Four years, sir," Patrick answered, taking Wish's hand. 

"Four years! So why don't you announce your engagement here, tonight!" 

"Daddy!" Wish protested, blushing. 

"Come on, Patrick, be the man. Propose! It would be perfect!" 

"Daddy, I really don't think-" 

"We're not ready, sir, and I hardly think this is the time-" 

"Bah!" Mr. Bellmonte waved the pair away, strutting over to greet the mayor and his wife. 

"I'm sorry, Patrick," Wish started, turning to her boyfriend. 

"It's alright, Wish. I know how your father can be," Patrick comforted her. 

"I mean, it's out of the question right now," Wish said. 

"Right, we're nowhere near ready. Right?" Patrick asked. 

"Yeah." 

"Good." 

"Good." 

Patrick gave Wish a peck on the cheek and said, "I'm going to go introduce myself to some of your father's guests. Will you be alright?" 

"Of course, I grew up at these business get-togethers remember?" 

Wish watched her boyfriend walk away, put on a fake smile, and shake some sweaty hands. All for what? Business. Was it really worth all this? 

Wish shook her head, putting down her champagne. What on earth was she thinking? She'd been born for this; to run her father's business one day. She would run the business, and it would be a dream come true. 

"Why, Florence! How are you?" 

Wish put on her nicest smile. 

"I'm splendid, Mrs. Cainsbury, how are you? And the children, Adam and Jefferson, I believe? How are they?" 

"Why, you remember the boys? How wonderful! They're splendid, thank you so much for asking! Adam just got into honors at school. Would you like to see a picture?" Mrs. Cainsbury asked, reaching into her purse. 

"Sure!" Wish tried her best to be cheerful. She looked at the pictures, shook a few hands and tried to find another corner to stand in. From every direction, it seemed, came questions about her and Patrick. 

"So, when do you think he's going to propose?" 

"Don't see a ring on that finger, any day now I bet!" 

"I'll bet he's scared, pretty thing like you!" 

"We'll save the date for your wedding, just let us know!" 

"Thank you!" Wish would reply, "Of course, any day now." 

It would be any day now. Everyone expected it, Wish expected it. Patrick was wonderful with business, and he was an artist. He was into glassblowing and was fantastic at it. He was also kind and gentle with her, the perfect boyfriend. Wish couldn't have asked for a better partner. 

But he hadn't asked. And Wish didn't know what she would say when he did. Something always felt... wrong. She wished it didn't, and she couldn't explain it. It was just wrong. 

That scared Wish.