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Prologue
Anya
Standing at the altar—once again—the officiant goes through the formalities. I take in a deep breath to steady my rapid heartbeat. I’m surprised no one can hear it pounding against my chest.
As the officiant gets closer and closer to the end of the ceremony, my hands shake as I sweat despite how cold it is on the deck.
One of the men approaches with a large ring box, carrying our wedding bands and interrupting my thoughts.
At the end of his spiel, the officiant looks up at each of us once before returning his gaze to the groom.
“Do you, Xander Goh, take this woman to be your wife, to live together in holy matrimony, to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”
“I do.” Xander nods, straightening his posture as I slip the wedding band on his ring finger.
“Do you, Anya Meilin Liu, take this man to be your husband, to live together in holy matrimony, to love him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”
Chapter One
NICO—Six Weeks Before
"And so the prince rescued the princess from the dragon,” the interviewer from who-knows-what magazine dreamily coos with her palms pressed together.
I let out my best chuckle for the cameras.
Anya wrinkles her cute little nose but quickly recovers with a tight smile.
“I can assure you, Anya is no damsel in distress. She’s more dragon than damsel,” I joke, nudging her with my shoulder.
The double entendre goes unnoticed by outsiders.
Pulling my wife closer to my side, I kiss her temple as she rolls her eyes. But she’s flashing her sweet smile, showing off that dimple I’m obsessed with.
“She’s a force to be reckoned with.”
I’m laying it on thick, but I’m hoping it’ll ease her irritation when the interview is over.
The interviewer’s eyes, whose name I’ve already forgotten, practically turn into hearts. Her overenthusiasm is making me nauseous, as I’m understanding why my wife hates these so much. But we do what we have to do for the family.
“I couldn’t agree more. Just look at you two. Is everything in order for the big day?” the interviewer asks with her bright smile and wide eyes.
Seriously, it’s like something’s keeping them pried open and makes me feel uneasy.
“I’m just ready for it to be over.” Wide-eyed, Anya returns the creepy smile.
“What she means is, we can’t wait to make our union official,” I add.
“Well, I know I speak for women everywhere when I say I’m at the edge of my seat. My husband keeps joking that I’m more excited about this wedding than I was for our own. But I’m sad you’re not allowing press at the wedding, though I do understand.” That earns a chuckle from my wife. “Anya, everyone is so anxious to see your wedding dress. And a February wedding in New York City. How romantic! Rumor has it the dress was repurposed. How sustainable!”
After addressing the same millions of questions from previous interviews, we finally wrap up. Thankfully, the camera crew works quickly to pack up. Anya thanks them and makes herself scarce.
We’re doing the interview at my parents’ house upstate because of the garden in the back. They had this property while we were growing up but only moved out here permanently after my father retired. He liked that it was outside of the city, away from the noise.
It’s surprisingly warm for February, so we hold the interview in the backyard. Anya loves the gentle waterfall that leads into a pond and, when outside of winter, the lush gardens.
Before I search for my wife, I take a minute to collect myself, but my mother’s voice echoes. I almost let out a groan but school my face before turning.
“Where’s Anya?” My mother scans for her. “I just wanted to tell you the interview was perfect. It’ll air in two days, so make sure you both tune in.”
