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All this time she’d believed that something was happening between them, that they were forming a real and true bond. Why couldn’t she get it in her head that she worked for the man? They weren’t falling in love.
He’d never misled her.
No, he hadn’t mentioned his girlfriend, but he’d never needed to. Because she’d started her job two days ago.
Obviously, she’d confused her teenage fantasies about Van Claybourne with the man she’d come to know. It had messed with her head.
Except…they’d talked about love—the difference between being in love and loving someone, about ending a relationship that had run its course. He didn’t think he’d ever been in love—he’d said that. So now that he understood the difference, what was he doing marrying this woman?
They didn’t look at each other with the kind of emotion she’d expect from a couple about to spend their lives together. They still hadn’t kissed or hugged. They hadn’t held hands.
She just couldn’t make sense of it. How could that sensitive, loving man marry a woman he wasn’t in love with?
There was no fire between them, no romance. The woman hadn’t said, I love you, I can’t wait to marry you. She’d given him an ultimatum.
The organist began playing, and Della swung around to see the bride standing in the doorway.
She was pretty, petite…lovely. On the outside, they made a good-looking couple. When the bride’s gaze connected with Bex’s, she lifted her eyebrows as if to say We’re really doing this.
But Bex looked…uneasy. His gaze dropped to his black Converse. And then swung up and over to Della. Exposing a stark helplessness, an urgent question in his eyes. She could swear she felt the thundering of his heart over this momentous decision he needed to make in the next five minutes.
She had only one response for him.
Don’t marry her.
Mary-Therese floated down the aisle, her gown swishing, and took her place beside him.
The officiant gave a nod to the organist to stop playing. “Mary-Therese Baker and Bexley Sinclair, you are about to enter into a commitment meant to last a lifetime.”
Bex flinched.
She wanted to shout at him You don’t have to do this.
We can walk out that door right this minute, and I’ll hail us a cab.
Perspiration gleamed on his forehead. He didn’t look happy, but he also wasn’t stopping the ceremony.
“As an officiant, I’m authorized to remind you of the binding nature of the relationship you are entering into.”
Mary-Therese reached for Bex’s hand and squeezed. When his gaze shifted over her shoulder, the bride followed it.
To me.
They’re both looking at me.
But instead of begging him to stop this madness, Della looked away.
Because it was his choice to make. She wouldn’t plead with someone to love her. He either wanted her enough to choose her, or he didn’t.
The officiant broke the excruciating tension. “Marriage is the union of two people to the exclusion of all others, voluntarily entered into for all of life.”
Was the Elvis lookalike making a point here? Did he pick up on the weird vibes of this wedding?
But no, he was just reciting the script he ran through every hour on the hour, all day long. “Bexley, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
Tension wrenched her stomach, making her sick. She wanted to scream at him What the hell are you doing?
And the moment his gaze slid to her again, she understood. Bex didn’t believe in romantic love. He wrote about passion, but he’d never lived it. And two days…it wasn’t enough to convince him it existed. Or that it could endure.
