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Prologue
KENNEDY
Nineteen years old…
“Do you, Kennedy Marie Hollings, take Michael Carter Stodge to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
My hands are shaking, and I glance down at my bouquet of white and red roses to make sure the flower petals aren’t giving away my nervousness. My father is staring at me from his place next to my mother in the front pew, and it should be comforting. It’s anything but.
“I do,” I mumble, forcing my lips to tilt into a smile.
“And do you, Michael Carter Stodge, take Kennedy Marie Hollings to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
Michael beams at me, his muddy brown irises shiny with love. Michael is a nice man, a good man, but he’s… old. Not that my father sees anything wrong with that. He, with the help of the church, is the one who arranged this marriage and for him, it’s more about appearances than his daughter being happy.
“I do,” Michael says, his voice gravelly from years of smoking cigarettes.
The rest of the ceremony goes by fast and before I know it, I’m a married woman. I’d give anything for that not to be the case, but it is what it is.
I can’t even go to the local bar and drink, but I’m a wife.
After Michael and I walk down the aisle toward the back of the opulently decorated church, he excuses himself to the restroom, leaving me to wait just outside the door. I fiddle with the new ring on my finger and watch as our many guests exit the building. The reception is being held at the country club, and there isn’t a person attending who would be okay with being late.
“Congratulations, Mrs. Stodge.”
“Thank you,” I numbly reply to a man I don’t recognize.
He’s older, although only than me. Everyone present today is my parent’s age or better.
Judging by the gray at the man’s temples and receding hairline, I’d put him in his fifties.
So, the same age as your husband.
“I’m Henry Granger. I play golf with Michael at the club,” he explains, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Every Wednesday, like clockwork, for the last twenty years.”
“It’s nice to meet you.”
“You as well. I hope to see you at the club. Some of the wives get together while us men play,” he says. “I know my wife would love it if you joined them.”
Then why isn’t she here asking me?
“I’d like that,” I lie. “I’ll have to see what my class schedule looks like first though.”
That was the one and only concession that was made for me with this marriage. Michael will pay for my college education, as long as I major in something he deems appropriate for a woman. I haven’t decided what that will be yet, but I’m working on it.
I make a mental note to schedule classes so my Wednesdays are full. There is nothing appealing about spending a day with people who have more money than sense. And the thought of spending time with women who have made it their life’s mission to serve their husbands fills me with dread.
What the hell am I getting myself into?
You don’t have a choice in the matter, so suck it up, buttercup.
“Well, I better be going,” Henry murmurs, no doubt sensing my unease.
I can be polite, but there’s only so much control one can exhibit over their facial expressions. And, according to my father, that’s a skill I need to work on.
“Thank you for coming to the ceremony, Mr. Granger.” My words ring false, but the half-hearted expression of gratitude is the best I can manage.
He nods. “Wouldn’t have missed it.”
