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“More than you know.” The words slip out, a whisper meant only for the wind.
“Look at Rick,” Enrique mutters, his voice tinged with humor.
I tear my gaze from Lily and find Rick standing rigid at the altar, pallor hinting at terror. His eyes dart about, seeking an anchor in the sea of expectant faces. I wonder if he knows what he’s getting into — if anyone really does when they stand before the precipice of forever.
Lily reaches the end of the aisle, and the ceremony begins, the officiant’s words weaving into the space between us. But I’m lost in the sight of Lily, her face partially hidden under the thin veil.
“Doesn’t she look happy?” someone murmurs behind me, the word “happy” sounding more like a question than a statement.
“Sure,” I reply, not trusting myself to elaborate. Because happiness is not a strained smile or a nervous glance — it’s found in the unrestrained laughter we’ve shared on rooftops, away from the prying eyes of our worlds.
Rick shifts uneasily, his hand twitching.
“Everything okay up there, do you think?” Enrique asks, tilting his head toward the couple.
“Hard to tell.” My response is noncommittal, but inside, doubt festers. Is this what Lily wants? Or is this the love she’s been conditioned to accept?
The violins soar, the chords of a love ballad wrapping around us, as ornate as the trellis of roses overhead. I sit rigid, my eyes fixed on Lily’s delicate hands clutching her bouquet.
“Will you, Richard Harold Kensington III, take Lillian to be your lawfully wedded wife…”
Rick’s eyes are wide, darting from the officiant to Lily and then to the crowd as if seeking an escape route. The words hang in the air, incomplete, awaiting his vow. A bead of sweat trails down his temple.
I’m clenching my jaw so hard it hurts, every muscle tense as I watch this train wreck in slow motion. Lily deserves better than this — better than a man who looks like he’s contemplating jumping off a cliff rather than saying “I do.”
“Sorry,” Rick mutters, almost inaudible over the string quartet. But I catch it, the word slicing through the air and blowing away the last bit of my hangover.
Just like that, I’m fresh as a daisy.
“Sorry?” Lily echoes, the single word trembling on her lips.
“Sorry,” he repeats louder now, and there’s no mistaking the panic in his voice.
His eyes meet mine for a split second, and then he bolts like a startled deer. He knocks over a floral arrangement as he makes his way down the aisle, fleeing the scene of his own wedding.
“Rick!” Lily’s voice breaks, a single syllable thick with disbelief and rising horror.
The perfection cracks, all the ugliness of the truth showing.
CHAPTER 3
LILY
The world tilts on its axis, a sickening lurch that leaves my stomach somewhere near the soles of my white satin shoes. I clutch my bouquet like a lifeline, but it does no good.
I’m still standing at the altar, all alone.
Rick’s absence is a void, a gaping hole where he should be standing, promising to love and cherish me for all of our days.
“Rick?” My voice is a ghostly whisper, lost in the vast expanse of the garden.
But he’s gone. Vanished around the edge of the house as if he were no more than a figment of my overactive imagination.
I see it then — the shock painted on the faces of hundreds, the whispering lips, the pitying eyes. They’re all on me, boring into me, stripping me down to my soul.
Humiliation scorches my cheeks, hotter than the summer sun beating down on my shoulders.
“Wh-what just happened?” I stammer, disbelief coloring my every word. “Did he really…” I can’t finish the sentence. It’s too absurd, too painfully ridiculous.
