Right?
“You’re disappointed that Margot’s not coming to the wedding?" Tristan steps up to stand next to me.
"I am. But she was clear that she didn’t want to be invited to the wedding. I’m not going to second-guess her."
I opt to keep my gaze fixed out the windows of the room at Islington Town Hall.
We’re in the waiting room next to the ceremony, where the registrar will officiate the civil ceremony.
“You’re the first of all her grandsons to get married. I figured she’d want to be there to make sure you do the deed." Tristan turns to me.
"You were wrong." I take in his black suit and tie. He looks distinguished. He’s taken on the role of my unofficial best man.
“On the other hand, it’s a relief that she’s not going to be here. Less pressure on the both of you." He shrugs.
I arranged it so I'll arrive first in the ceremony room. My brothers and guests will be seated, then the bride will arrive.
So, it’ll follow the sequence of a church wedding.
Give Ember the satisfaction of walking down the aisle in the ceremony room, at least.
I, myself, never envisaged getting married. So, it’s somewhat of a surprise to find myself standing here waiting to be called by the registrar.
It felt essential to keep the proceedings official. To remind myself, and her, that this is strictly to put on a show for our families, so word will get back to Margot and my shareholders, and they’ll be reassured. There is no romance involved.
But that hurt look in her eyes made me want to make up for the pain I've caused her. Hence, my booking a private waiting room to afford us more privacy, and the changes to the schedule so the events unfold like a church wedding.
Which means, I can feel the tension build in me. I’m getting married. Married. Fuck.
I glance around the room.
"Let me get you some water." Tristan interprets my actions. He heads for the jug of water on the table, pours me a glass, and brings it over.
I drain it and hand him the glass. He raises his eyebrows but doesn’t comment.
"You seem nervous." He reaches up and adjusts my tie.
I shrug off his hand. "It’s normal to be nervous."
He nods slowly. "Of course, it’s an arrangement first. So, you can be assured that you have an exit clause."
He’s my lawyer and knows the true status of this wedding, so I’m able to openly talk to him about this. But his words form a knot in my stomach. He’s right, though. I should be grateful that this is not the real deal. But I don’t like him saying that aloud. It feels wrong, somehow.
I crack my neck and keep my silence.
"Unless you want it to be real. In which case, you simply have to give it your best shot."
I scowl at him. He makes it sounds so easy. But it’s not, is it? I can’t allow myself to not be in control. I don’t want to feel vulnerable. And that’s what being with her does to me.
Which is why this marriage and the contract is important. Everything is planned out. I just need to make sure my emotions aren’t involved. I can do that. I have a lot of practice with it, after all.
"Just remember, contracts are easy. Marriages aren’t."
I frown. "Explain yourself."
“The paperwork sets the boundaries. But what happens between two people day to day… That’s negotiation. Every single day.”
I rub at my temple. I’m trying to decipher what he means. “You’re saying the contract won’t protect me?"
