Rather than search for him, I keep my eyes glued to the enormous bundle of white roses clenched in my shaking hands. Curling in my quivering lip as reality sets in. Ignoring the turmoil aching in my chest as my funeral begins.
I squirm in my seat like a damn four-year-old.
Except that I’m not a four-year-old. I’m a grown man, and I’m hot and I’m bored and I want the fuck out of here. But the trembling hand weakly tugging the sleeve of my sleek black tuxedo keeps me in place. Just like when I really was a little kid. I rarely told her no back then, and I definitely can’t tell her no now.
Especially since she’s one of the few people in my life who genuinely cares about me. Really loves me. Not out of fear or greed or loyalty. Just because I’m me.
She also loves her sister too. Who in turn loves Antonio, her fuck up for a grandson. So that’s why I’m here. Sliding my ass back onto the hard, narrow bench. I let out a long, tedious, obnoxious sigh to remind her of the sacrifice I make for her. The only person I make sacrifices for.
She nods and smiles proudly, forcing me to check my impatience as well as my watch. Damn ceremony was supposed to start ten minutes ago. I’m giving this circus two more minutes, and then I’m gone. Whether grandmother likes it or not. I’ll buy her another damn dog for her growing menagerie of rescues if I have to so I can make it up to her.
I’m not the only one who’s impatient. Antonio flexes in his rented oxfords on the altar. Mimicking his row of groomsmen anxiously scanning the vestibule searching for the bride. The woman’s probably realized my cousin’s a fucking moron and took off. Which no one would blame her, including me.
Rumors of his penchant for underage girls have been floating through our family and the city for years. The embarrassment increasing while their ages were decreasing. Lower and lower until I finally beat his ass—well had my guys do it—when I heard he was sniffing around a thirteen-year-old. Vicious enough to cause him to lay low for a while, with a warning that the next time he fucked up would also be the last time, I hadn’t heard anymore about him for months.
Until the invitation showed up, and Mims dragged me here as her escort. Obligation and honor always rule. I’m the boss and have to represent the family, despite how shameful some of our members may be. At least this girl is of legal age, if not an idiot, for even agreeing to marry this disgusting piece of shit.
The whispers swell louder while the music fades. The organist glancing over her shoulder too. Nodding to the harpist. Everyone wondering where the fuck the bride is. Not me. Not anymore. I’m out.
Except I make the absolute stupidest mistake possible when I abruptly rise from my pew. All of the other congregants follow suit, assuming the bride is finally going to show, and like fucking magic the doors open and she stands there. Fading daylight glows behind her, and I swear she looks like a damn angel shining from the golden rays shimmering against the sparkles on her dress and veil.
Sweet.
Innocent.
And so breathtakingly beautiful.
Fuck. Me.
Now the rustling between the rows is positive. Gasps and smiles from her sheer beauty. Overwhelmed only by the huge white gown she wears. Too big and poufy for her delicate frame. But really all I can see is her elegant face. Drawn and despondent as everyone else’s energy pulses around her. The lack of joy in her expression confuses the hell out of me, yet tells me enough of what I need to know.
She’s not marrying him.
Not today.
Not ever.
You can almost feel the fucking relief in the notes as the pianist whips up a frenzied version of the expected Pachelbel Cannon and—fuck, I don’t even remember her name from the announcement—watches as her bridesmaids slowly march down the aisle. One by one, each of them meeting a groomsman at the halfway point. Linking arms and strolling together to the altar. Some of them smiling, some of them sullen. All of them slow as hell.
I don’t mind. Not at all. Because the ridiculously long parade gives me plenty of time to rescue her from her misery. I yank out my phone and stare at her gorgeous face until I’m forced to turn my attention to the screen. Thumbing to Ryker and tapping a clear and concise message.
End Antonio now.
I glance down to the end of the pew at him. Awaiting his usual quick response to my order. Expecting him to react to my demand by jumping up and shooting my cousin after he glances at his cell. Instead, his head whips up from reading my message and swivels toward mine. His are you fucking serious expression bores into me.
He’s known me my entire life and should know I’m always serious. But I guess in this situation—with this mandate—I can see why he would want to double check.
I type and I wait.
Get him out of here and then tell the priest he got cold feet and took off.
The fourth girl passes by before he finally shakes his head, uttering a soundless swear, and slowly steps over the kneeler. With almost everyone else’s attention on the procession, he strides quietly yet purposefully towards the increasingly smaller line of men and gestures for Antonio to follow him. My cousin gives him the same doubtful expression Ryker gave me until my most trusted guard points in my direction and the moron realizes he has no choice. Dread lines his stupid face while he hustles past Ryker, and they head to the side door, quickly disappearing. Ryker for a few minutes. Antonio forever.
Good. Glad that’s done. Now I can sit back and enjoy the rest of the show. A few more pretty girls close out the promenade. Yet none of them are as exquisite as mine though. Finally, it’s her turn to proceed.
She swallows hard in her willowy throat when the lady, I assume to be some kind of wedding planner, nudges her. Seconds pass, and I really think she isn’t going to move. Until her father leans close and whispers in her ear. Enormous blue eyes fall shut as she nods. Seeming to accept some fate imposed upon her. That makes me grin like a smug bastard. Giddy that I’ve saved her, and she won’t have to spend even another minute ever again with that cocksucker.
Finally, she walks. Plenty of room in the wide aisle for her parents to accompany her on each side. I knew she was beautiful from one hundred feet away but god damn is she stunning. Closer and closer until they pause. Confusion lining all three of their faces that Antonio doesn’t meet them in the middle as I assume they expect.
The music plays on. Boisterous and cheerful until it’s not. Puzzled whispers mingle with the chords while necks strain and heads scan the front. This time searching for the missing groom. Unaware he’s gone and never coming back.
This part makes me feel kind of guilty. She’s worried. Uncertainty flooding her flushed cheeks. Which I am genuinely sorry for. Kind of. Well not really. But I will make it up to her. I swear to god I will.
Ryker slips in from the back and beelines straight for Father John. The old man’s brown eyes grow wide from the update he receives in his ear. A furious nod and hard pat on Ryker’s back before the minister strides to the bride. Deep wrinkles full of sympathy and remorse line the old man’s face. Earnest words hidden by the buzz around us. That cause her mother to burst into tears and press her pink handkerchief to her mouth. Her father to curse and lift his eyes to the angels painted on the rotunda. My girl to look around at all the faces staring in ardent curiosity back at her.
Maybe in seminary school they teach what do to in these sensitive situations as the pastor seems unruffled. Taking charge and taking over. He gives her a confident smile as his hand glides to his side and under his cloak, adjusting the small black box at his waist. An amplified breath wafts through the stunned silence as his microphone comes to life.