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Grandmere and I entered the room, and I walked with her up the aisle in a half-daze. On my side of the ballroom I saw familiar faces, and with each one I got a little stronger.
Keaty had come. I’d have been lying if I said I was sure he would. Beside him Nolan and—to my genuine surprise—Shane were smiling as I walked farther into the room. Holden was there too, as far to the back as he could get, and he wasn’t smiling. Ben, my brother, was at the front looking as uncomfortable as Eugenia had when she’d first arrived, but I appreciated his being there. And beside Mercedes’s boyfriend, Owen, was Detective Tyler.
I didn’t have many people in my life before I became a part of Lucas’s pack. It meant a lot that everyone I cared about was here.
I raised my chin high and smiled for all I was worth. When I got to the altar, Grandmere kissed me and took her seat while I stood next to Mercedes on the platform and glanced over the gathered crowd. Briefly I felt like I was on the set of a movie. Lucas’s side of the ballroom was so full they’d put the overflow into my almost empty half. His guests were New York royalty. Some of Hollywood’s biggest stars, actors and singers, real-estate tycoons and the elite of Manhattan’s upper crust were all here to see me marry the most eligible bachelor in the city.
Reading about it in The Times hadn’t made me understand what a big deal my wedding was. Now it sort of clicked, why Kimberly was so frantic about everything being just right. This was the goddamned social event of the season.
I was struck by a sudden case of nerves.
Lucas would handle himself perfectly. High-pressure situations were his bread and butter. But unless I was killing someone or keeping from being killed myself, I didn’t handle pressure all too well. I swallowed hard, and my palms were a sweaty mess. I wanted to wipe them off, but the only thing available was my dress, and I thought Kimberly would shit bricks if I wiped my hands on my gown.
The ballroom doors closed, and everyone found their seats, polite conversations popping up in muted tones while people waited for Lucas to arrive. On the groom’s side of the platform there were no groomsmen, though I knew Dominick, Desmond and a few other high-ranking pack members were expected to stand up for him.
Whether or not Desmond would show up was another question. Duty dictated he must, otherwise it would look like an affront to the king. But he couldn’t even stand to be in the same room with me. Would he be able to stand up and watch Lucas and me get married? Would I be able to go through with it if he was there?
More sweaty palms.
I knew nerves were a normal part of weddings, but I felt ready to throw up.
“What time is it?” I whispered to Mercedes.
“I don’t know. The Nazi photographer made me take my watch off.”
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, my five-inch heels pinching my feet uncomfortably, reminding me I should have broken the damned things in before today. I waited a few minutes, my eyes never leaving the ballroom doors. Patience was not one of my virtues. I caught the eye of a handsome A-list actor in the front row. The type known for being in high-octane action movies. I thought maybe he’d once been a wrestler. His big arms certainly suggested it.
“Hey,” I whispered, seeing the shiny gold Rolex on his wrist. “What time is it?”
He checked. “Ten fifteen.”
“Thanks.”
I fidgeted some more.
Kellen whispered, “Weddings never start on time.”
Brigit and Mercedes both nodded. So did the big guy in the front row, for that matter.
“I know.” But I didn’t sound convinced even to myself.
We waited. First five minutes, then ten. Soon the conversations among the crowd weren’t politely quiet anymore. People were annoyed at the lateness, and I couldn’t blame them. Other people were suggesting perhaps it was more than lateness.
That maybe Lucas wasn’t coming.
But that was a ridiculous notion. In the eyes of the pack, Lucas and I were already married. There was no reason for him to skip out on our human wedding. Pack law carried more weight than human law, so skipping out on our wedding wouldn’t keep us from being married—it would make him look like a douche bag.
And make me look like an idiot.
No, he cared too much about his image to do something so cruel, I was sure of it. He tended to be reclusive when it came to public appearances, so for him to make such a big deal of the wedding was proof enough it mattered to him.
And I knew I mattered to him. He loved me.
And love is a serious thing.
When you love someone, you wouldn’t leave them. Not for anything.
I felt a pang, thinking of the way Desmond had walked out. How he hadn’t been able to look at me after Lucas and I were officially mated. Was his leaving a sign he’d loved me too much or that he hadn’t loved me enough?
