Nial pulled me by the waist, his lips locking to mine, sealing our union. The crowd, mainly the groom’s family members and close acquaintances, rose to their feet, applauding.
My heart sank as the weight of permanence settled around me like a cage made of silk. Nial held on to me, his grip steady, his gaze unwavering. His presence alone was overwhelming. But when his lips curled into a small grin, I found myself reciprocating the gesture.
***
Later that evening, after all the stress that came with the wedding, we finally retired to our master bedroom. The place was strange and unfamiliar—luxurious, but unfamiliar.
I sat on the edge of his king-sized bed, hands on my lap, the zipper on my gown halfway down my back. The silence was loud and uncomfortable, the air thick with unspoken words.
He lounged on the couch across the bed, legs crossed, his eyes pinned on me. He didn’t say a word at first; he just sat there, watching me closely. I wasn’t sure why this was awkward because at this point, we were already past awkward silences.
The longer this stillness stretched, the more my heart pounded in my chest. I couldn’t understand the logic behind myanxiety, and that mystery gnawed at me more than I cared to admit.
“Something on your mind?” he asked, his voice cutting through the silence.
A pause.
“Not really,” I answered, raising my head to meet his gaze. “It’s just…this wasn’t how I envisioned….” My voice trailed off.
He waited a while, then said, “Sometimes, the best marriages start out rough. It’s up to the couple to decide if they’re gonna make it work or not.”
I stared at him across the room, his words sparking a flame within me. “Did you read that somewhere?”
“Your ability to always think so low of me is rather remarkable,” he answered, exuding his usual calmness.
Nial’s words actually managed to draw a quiet chuckle from my lips.
“It’s notmyfault you are what you are,” I replied with the same tone, eyes locked on his.
His lips twisted into a small grin. “I’m a monster, Kiera. Not stupid.”
I didn’t realize the smile on my face was broadening until I caught a reflection of myself in the mirror. He’d found a way to gradually ease my tension without even trying at all.
That was a beat trick. No doubt.
“Can I ask you something?”
He paused for a second. “Shoot.”
“Do you think this can work out?” I moved my hand back and forth between the two of us. “I mean, do you really believe we can pull this off?”
“We can do anything we set our minds to.”
“I’m not….” I exhaled sharply, masking my frustration. “I’m not asking for some random motivational speech.” I rose tomy feet, my voice tender but solemn. “I’m asking for your honest opinion. Raw. Unfiltered. Just tell me exactly what you think of this.”
Silence.
He refused to take his eyes off me, his expression softening by the second. “Do you know why I asked you to leave after our first night together?”
The pain from that time poked at me, but I was quick to brush it off. “Because you got what you wanted?”
“Wrong.” He stood up, his neatly combed hair catching the light. “I asked you to leave because you were beginning to affect me in ways I wasn’t ready for.”
What, for real?
“I told myself it was a strategy.” He approached me, his footsteps slow and measured. “But I knew it wasn’t. It was fear.”
What’s going on right now? Where’s this confession going?
