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“One last thing,” Lou whispers as she pulls me aside and hands me my bouquet. “Just remember, we’re all in this together. If anything goes wrong, we’ll figure it out. And don’t forget, you’re not alone.”
Her words give me a small measure of comfort. I take her hand, steeling myself for what’s to come.
As we walk into the chapel, I can’t help but think about what we’ve done and the consequences we’ll face for the things we’re planning to do. But I also feel a glimmer of hope, knowing that we have each other’s backs and are fighting for something much bigger than ourselves.
And then The Wedding March begins.
In business, I’m fearless. A force to be reckoned with. A name that strikes fear into the heart of whoever hears it. Someone you never want to cross. I command respect and fear. Zie and Kaiden look to me for leadership and guidance.
But they don’t know the truth.
No one does.
I’m a coward.
If I turn my head just so, I can completely block the groom out of my peripheral vision and give Odi my full attention. For a split second as the open beat of the ‘Here Comes The Bride’ song begins to ring out from the organ’s pipes, I’m able to forget that I’m standing here as the best man, and can imagine that I’m gazing upon my bride for the first time today.
I steady my breathing, desperately trying to calm the fluttering butterflies in my stomach. It feels like an eternity before the doors swing open, revealing the breathtaking sight of my…I mean,thebride entering the church. The room seems to hold its breath in anticipation as she takes her first step down the aisle.
Her gown cascades gracefully around her, shimmering in the soft light. The delicate design hugs her curves like a second skin. Every stitch seems to be perfectly crafted to accentuate her beauty, her elegance, and yet, there’s something amiss. I can see it in the slight tremble of her hands and the way she bites her lower lip.
She’s radiant. Absolutely glowing despite the frown marring her beautiful features and the fear in her eyes.
My heart skips a beat as our eyes meet for a fleeting moment. In that instant, I see a familiar pain etched across her face. It’s a secret language only we share, one that speaks of our intimate connection. Suddenly, I’m reminded of all that we’ve been through together: the laughter and the tears, the highs and lows. Our love story has been far from conventional, but it’s ours.
As she walks towards me, I remember all the nights we spent talking under moonlit skies, dreaming about our future when we were growing up. We thought we had it all figured out. But life has a funny way of throwing curveballs when you least expect it, testing the very foundation of your love.
The faint strains of The Wedding March continue to fill the air, blending with the rhythmic thud of my heart. Time slows down as she reaches my side, standing by me as if we were two souls ready to take on the world together.
And then she turns to my best friend and gives him a shaky smile, and it all comes crashing back. Today, now, in this moment right here, she’shis.
Not mine.
I’m a coward because when given a choice – to take control and get the job done, or to be the victim in the box, a body to be beaten, fucked and left for dead – I chose to live.
At someone else’s peril.
I can’t look myself in the eye.
The others can never know.
This is not a fucking love story.I chant it to myself on repeat as the vicar, priest, robed dude talks through his spiel. What should be the happiest day of my life has me fraught with tension – but to onlookers it hopefully just looks like last minute jitters, nerves, cold feet.
To the fathers, I hope they read it as fear and contempt for my groom. I can feel their eyes on me, burning into me, as I’mforced to turn and face my betrothed. Well, two out of three pairs of eyes. I’ll never have to feel Kaiden’s father’s eyes on me ever again.
One down, two to go. Stay strong. You’ve got this.
“Do you, Odile Kemp, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
If I were flipping this narrative fortheirbenefit, my response would beI don’t. I really fucking don’t.
I start to shake and the groom reaches out to take my hand, choosing instead to circle strong fingers around my wrist in a chokehold. Or maybe it’s the fear that has me in a chokehold.
I tremble from head to toe, my stomach more knotted than ropes on a sail, and my head starts to shake of its own accord.
This has to be believable. We can’t fuck this up.
His grip on my wrist tightens past the point of pain and it’s all I can do not to drop my carefully designed bouquet. Axel curated it himself. Those deep blood red peonies I love, alongside black roses and silver-blue eucalyptus. A tiny gasp slips through my lips and tears prick at my eyes.
