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Isabella
It’s finally happening – the day every girl dreams about. My wedding.
I remind myself that it’s all for show. None of this is real. It’s another ploy to further the grand legacy of my dad’s building. But, I’d be lying if I fully believed that. I might never have another chance to enjoy my own wedding. Even if the man I’m meant to couple with isn’t the one I love, I can lose myself to the illusion, even for just a moment.
After all, if everything goes according to plan, I’ll be gone long before any baby is birthed. They’re all eating from the palm of my hand, believing that I’m happy to stay. Soon, I’ll make my departure and all of this will be for nothing.
That will show them…
Maddox hasn’t blinked, since I made my way down the aisle. His face is expressionless, apart from those glowing orbs. Feeling the way I do, I can’t imagine what’s going through his head. I suppose it can’t be the same for him, given how he’s been following me around. The thought of it should creep me out and make me want to run even faster, yet I find myself drawn to it. Like some loon with Stockholm Syndrome.
Even standing here, being gifted away on a silver platter, I’m not completely put off by it. The thought of kissing Maddox again, once the ceremony’s over is alluring. His good looks probably make the pot sweeter.
No! I’m repulsed. There’s nothing good about this. I have to stop trying to see the good in this horrible situation. Why’s that becoming so hard?
The priest goes on, explaining the importance and sanctity of marriage, but neither Maddox nor I are listening. We’re looking deeply into one another’s eyes, into our souls, and sharing a non-verbal conversation. He’s carrying the weight of the pain and suffering he’s endured over years of being mafia muscle.
I almost feel bad for him.
Before we lose ourselves too deeply in the soul-searching, the priest speaks again; this time directly to Maddox. Here come the words I’ve been dreading to hear. Fearful, nervous, fuck, how am I sort of excited?
“Maddox Braddock, do you 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?” the priest asks.
Maddox pauses. He doesn’t break his gaze on me, trying to find something I’m not willing to show. He turns to my dad, then his, before his attention returns to the priest.
“I do,” Maddox replies.
“Isabella Romani, do you 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?” the priest asks me.
Like Maddox, I hold back for a moment. As soon as I say those words, that’s it. I’m tethered to Maddox in this unholy union. I’m not as put off, as I once was, but I’m sure as hell still not happy. I turn to my dad. He’s been teary-eyed all morning, a rare emotion for a man like him.
“I…” I can’t bring myself to say it, not right away. A simple, reassuring nod of my dad’s head gives me the courage to push forward. Go all in. Let them believe that this is what I want so that there are no questions on my actions.
“I do.”
“Wonderful,” the priest exclaims. “Maddox, repeat after me: ‘I, Maddox Braddock, take Isabella Romani, to be my wife. To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.’”
Maddox repeats it without fault.
“’I, Isabella Romani, take Maddox Braddock, to be my husband…’” the priest repeats the line, and I follow on after him.
The priest takes Maddox’s hand, and then mine. He’s older, with soft, wrinkled digits that caress my skin. He unites Maddox and me together. My breathing grows staggered and unsteady. I nearly fail at my attempt to stop hyperventilating.
Maddox is the opposite. He’s calm, calculated, and collected.
“By the authority vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” He turns to Maddox, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You may now kiss the bride.”
It’s done. My life is signed, sealed, and delivered to Maddox Braddock. So far, it seems everyone believes it, as well.
