AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He laughs what I think might be the first real, true, loud laugh I’ve ever heard from him. “I absolutely do not.” He tilts his head, “What the hell is this song? Is this John Legend?”
I look away, mortified. Sure enough, they’re playing a jazzy cover ofAll of Me.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“Mark, I didn’t pick the song! I didn’t even think we would dance. I only said if they saw you dancing to play something from the last twenty years.”
He sighs and his jaw twitches even though he’s still grinning for the cameras. I watch that reaction in his jaw. He is so handsome it’s other-worldly. It’s as if someone researched the hottest, most devastating attributes of atall, dark and handsomeman and grew him in a lab.
“You’re staring, again.”
“You wear contacts.” I notice suddenly.
He tenses for a moment then restarts our swaying. “And your staring has officially moved into the downright creepy category,”
I can’t look away though. So I shrug, “The cameras will love it.”
He harrumphs and then talks through his gleaming white teeth. “You’re not going to turn me into an onion if you stare long enough,sweetheart.There are no more layers.” As he grits the words out, the lyrics of the song, about wholly loving all of each other, ring out around us.
The contrast is heartbreaking. I gave the band a list of some artists Mark likes, but I should have been more specific about the songs. I blink a few times to stop myself from crying, yet again.
“I realize you deserve better than this, disgusting evil family or not.” He says softly. “Maybe a better man would bow out of this, but I need the fucking money, Eleanna.” His grip on me tightens. “And I really need my stunning, perfect,happybride to stop fucking crying.” At that, he crashes his lips onto mine.
He grips me tighter and kisses me a few times, hard, his lips parted with a hint of suction. I start to melt and lose all thoughts just as I hear the sounds of a hundred or more little clicks. Phone lenses, professional photographers, app sounds, and even old school film camera sounds surround us.
The crowd cheers and I start to understand. The song is over and Mark was giving them the show they needed. I spy his mother wiping her eyes at us. He eyes me as we part. He wanted to keep me from falling apart right here and now.
But I don’t think even those kisses, breath-stealing as they were, are enough.
I manage, though, somehow, with a few deep breaths and the decision not to look at my groom if I can help it.
There are so many hands to shake and hugs to give, so many thank-yous and selfies. At some point, someone hands me a couple of appetizers and a water, then we cut the cake and feed each other. Other than that, we stand and talk to guests. My cheeks actually hurt from all the smiles. I wonder if Mark’s do too.
Then, it’s over.
He looks almost as spent as I feel, across from me in the limo. His hair and suit and stupid face are still absolutely perfect. Meanwhile, I am sweaty and my hair is frizzy, and if I move at all, my hands will tremble.
“Are you all moved in?” Mark asks.
“Yes.”
“Good.” He leans his head back. “Fuck, I’m glad that’s over.”
Just what every bride wants to hear on her wedding night, but for a much, much different reason. It’s now or never, I guess.
I summon my courage, trembling hands be damned. “I want to change my terms.”
He laughs, “Of fucking course you do, we’ve been married, what, ten seconds?”
“Well, it’s come to my attention that you are sleeping with half the city, and the truth of it is, discretion isn’t enough.” He only sighs, gripping his head like it’s aching. “Think about it, you can have your choice of women, but no man will come near a Delgado, a Delgado married to a US senator. It’s not fair. It’s not an equal partnership.”
“Too bad.”
“W- what?”
“I never agreed to an equal partnership. I already told you, we’re not partners. I’m not going to be fucking celibate.”
My eyes sting, yet again, but I shove my nail into my palm until I feel it break the skin. I focus on the physical pain. I am not going to beg this man, my husband, to sleep with me. I am not going to cry like a little girl with hurt feelings. That is not what a queen does.
