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prologue: kara
The cathedral doors open. The string quartet shifts into Pachelbel's Canon. Two hundred people turn to look at me. Some of the faces are familiar, but most are strangers. My fingers tremble around the ribbon-tied handle of my bouquet.
I wanted pink peonies, but of course that isn’t what I got. Pink isn’t the color of a sophisticated winter wedding. So I’m holding white roses and baby's breath that smell like a funeral and somehow that feels right.
I let out a shaky breath.How the fuck did I get myself into this mess?
They’re all waiting for me to walk down the aisle. But my feet drive themselves into the floor and that’s no one's fault. This happens to everyone on their wedding day, doesn’t it?
My father offers his arm. His smile is practiced and perfect. It’s the same one most of my guests will recognize from his campaign posters. "Ready, princess?"
I bite back a sarcastic smile. “Oh Dad, I’m just happy I could be here foryourbig day.”
“Yourbig day sweetheart.” He winks at me.
“Right.”
But this isn’tmyday. I don’t even look like myself right now with all this makeup and the fake lashes. Besides, my parents have put more work into this relationship than I have. It isn’t all bad. So they want their eldest daughter married off to the campaign Finance Director. I’ve gone along with it thus far and it’s a picture perfect happily ever after.
It’s what is meant to be. So why the hell is my body screaming for me to run? My heels click against marble as we start the processional. One foot. Then another.
I look down the aisle to the altar and see him. Marshall waits with his hands clasped, looking like everything a bride should want… Successful, handsome, if a little short, and so kind.
But when we lock eyes, I don’t see tears of unadulterated joy. I see… nothing. His smile wobbles as if to say,well, I had nothing else planned for today. I pull my shoulders back and shorten my steps as my heart thuds in my chest.
The music swells, filling the church. My mother dabs her eyes in the front row. She’s already performing for the photographer.Why can’t I be more like my mother?My sister Kendall catches my eye from her bridesmaid position, and mouths, ‘Breathe.’
But I can't. The corset is too tight. The expectations are too heavy. The aisle stretches forever and somehow still ends too soon. My eyes roam in panic before they settle back on Marshall. I force a smile and give him a nod. I’m desperate for reassurance.
In response, Marshall gives me an almost imperceptible half shrug.A fucking shrug.My breath catches in my throat. Marshall knows. Maybe he's always known that I'm about to make us both miserable for the rest of our lives.
I stall out right before the altar.
“Let’s go.” My father grumbles under his breath as he leans into me.
“Let’s not.” My reply comes out between clenched teeth.
"Who gives this woman to be married?" The reverend's voice echoes off the vaulted ceiling.
"Her mother and I," my father says.
He passes my hand to Marshall like I'm a transaction. When he takes it, Marshall's palm is damp. Or maybe mine is. Either way we stand there. Two people about to promise a lie while everyone we know and so many we don’t watch like some sort of fucked up reality TV show.
"Dearly beloved…" The reverend begins, and my vision tunnels. His words blur into white noise. It’s all a swirl of chaos, commitment, honor, and cherish. I count my breaths until one phrase cuts through crystal clear. "If anyone knows any reason why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace."
The silence stretches. My heart pounds so loud I'm sure everyone can hear it.Speak now. The man said speak now. Please. For the love of Taylor Swift someone. Anyone.But no one does.
From there I must black out because the next thing I know, Marshall is whispering my name. Apparently I’ve missed my cue.
“Kara, it’s time for the vows and the rings,” he repeats.
Wilder steps forward and his kind face is enough to let the tears spill over.
He’s Rustin's nephew. Rustin Reynolds. The OG love of my life who I just couldn’t make it work with. I haven’t seen him in three years. But Wilder wanted to learn politics from my father so he’s been assisting on the campaign trail since he was fifteen.
Back when I met him, he was just a nerdy kid. He’s twenty now, but I insisted on him being our ring bearer anyway… because I'm apparently a masochist. I could never have guessed that he’d have grown into the Reynolds' angles and knowing eyes.
