Page 18 of Angel

I caught the unfiltered pain in his face as the opening notes echoed through the hall.

Credit to him, he guided me with ease, gliding and moving across the polished wood with effortless grace.

Oh my, this was actually happening.

I panicked, my heart hammering with such violence that I got terrified he felt it.

Don’t trip. Whatever you do, don’t fall or stumble.

I was in his arms like I’d always dreamed.

After twenty years of living on the sidelines of a fairytale romance, I was finally the one he was holding as his bride.

As we danced, I wondered how the hell Evangeline had taken him for granted.

He’d given her a dream life, and she’d thrown it all away; the flashbulbs, the rockstar lifestyle, and the black-card luxury she was all about.

However, that all meant nothing to me.

I cared little about Angel’s fame, his money, or influence, with zero desire for the glitz and glam; I just yearned for the soul I fell in love with years ago.

The words of the song surged through the speakers.

The lyrics, about angels offering salvation, struck him like a blow; I felt every shudder and caught the gritting of his teeth.

Angel’s lips twisted, and my heart ached for him as his eyes, hard and cold, told me of the torture he was going through.

Every instinct screamed at me to melt right into his chest, to bury my face in the crook of his neck and soothe the raging ache I imagined surging inside him.

Yet beneath the rush of adrenaline and longing, my cruel inner voice hit me with the crushing truth.

I was not his beloved, and I’d probably never be.

He was performing a duty, saving face in front of the cameras and the crowd, while his soul remained trapped with the woman who got away.

I was the substitute bride, the ‘never’ choice.

The realization made me jolt, intoxicated by his touch yet terrified of how much I wanted a man whose heart was breaking for someone else.

Ever the masterful showman, Angel kept his steps smooth and flawless as we endured the song.

For a split second, as he spun me at the end of the song, I swooned in his arms, letting myself believe the fairy tale.

The illusion shattered the moment the final chord faded.

The guests erupted into loud cheering as I curtsied and Angel gave me a stiff chin jerk.

He led me back to the bridal table, but the moment we cleared the dance floor, Angel’s hands dropped from me.

He sank back into his chair on the dais and retreated into his own mind.

His jaw set back into a hard line as he whirled and stared into his tumbler of whiskey.

‘Beautiful dance,’ Marnie whispered to me as I sat and the guests flooded the dance floor, the tempo of the music picking up.

‘Thank you, we survived it,’ I half-laughed, plastering on a smile and nodding to friends and family as they danced on.

Later in the evening, the band slowed the pace to a soulful ballad.