Page 152 of Beautiful Scars

The closer I get, the more Cillian’s faint smile turns into a grimace. I climb up onto the stage, glancing across at the priest before turning back to him. Sarah fumbles behind me, doing her best to sort out my wedding dress and train while I try to bore a hole through Kill’s skull with my eyes.

But before I can open my mouth, the priest cuts me off. “Who here gives this woman to this man?”

What the fuck?

I thought we just stood up here and said a couple of I dos.

“I do,” Cole says.

Hold up. Why is the evil twin the one saying I do?

He grabs my hand and puts it in Cillian’s, and then takes a step down to stand next to Sarah.

I fight back a manic giggle. I assume it should have been my father passing my hand around, a remnant from the good old days when fathers had the final say on who married their daughters.

I picture my mom sitting in the row behind me, her thin lips set in a hard sneer. Or would she be acting like everything was hunky-dory just to save face?

The priest stops my thoughts running wild when he clears his throat. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the union of Cillian Hendry and Meisie Ford.”

The priest’s voice turns into a drone as I will Cillian to look at me. But he keeps his deadpan expression centered on the priest as he takes us through the ceremony.

So I turn my glare on the crowd. And I get more than a few surprised looks in return. Of course I don’t know anyone—to my knowledge, not a single member of my family, distant or otherwise, was invited.

Which is fine by me. I mean, why would I want anyone witnessing this sham of a wedding anyway?

Then I see the reporters.

They’re standing along each side of the room, video cameras pointing in my direction.

For a long moment, I consider yelling at them that I’m being held against my will. That Cillian and his brother are criminals. Drug lords.

But then Cillian takes hold of my hand and squeezes it. Hard.

“Meisie Ford,” he says, his dark eyes gleaming. “I vow to cherish and protect you every day, for as long as I live.”

My face drops, and I stare at him like he’s grown a third head.

The priest clears his throat. “Meisie? Have you prepared your vows?”

I start to say no. I almost laugh. But then I feel more than a thousand fucking eyes on me, and I cave.

No one wants to look like an idiot. Not even a captive of the aforementioned drug lord being married against her will.

“Uh...sure.” I swallow, clear my throat, swallow again. There’s a faint murmur from the watching crowd as my mind scurries for something to say.

“I...also...vow to, uh...cherish you,” I tell Cillian as my face starts to heat up. “And, uh, love you. Also. Forever.”

Someone barks out a laugh beside us, and I don’t even have to turn to know who it is.

Fucking Cole.

Mother.Fucking. Cole.

“And, if I do die,” I go on, leaning in a little to put emphasis on my words, “I’ll still love you from beyond the grave, zombie apocalypse style.” Then I flutter my eyelashes at him, just for shits and giggles.

Cillian’s face goes stony, and the grip on my hand edges on pain.

“Do you have the rings?” the priest asks, but as if he wishes one of us will say no so he can call an end to this mockery.

But we exchange rings like a real couple. Kill plants a chaste kiss on my lips, and we walk down the aisle amid a smattering of awkward applause and muted gossip. As soon as we’re through the door, I snatch my hand free and veer away from him, hiking my skirts up as high as they can go so I can try and pick up some speed.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he calls out.

“To get drunk, my dear husband,” I yell back. “Very,verydrunk.”