Chapter 1
The wedding is a small one, held in the backyard of my new home with my handsome husband. He's British. Pa must have left out that part, or maybe if I had gone through the file like Pa asked me to do, I would have known.
I steal more glances at him as he saunters to greet one of many unfamiliar faces, doing my best to be subtle. His brown locks are swept back, held in place by the gel that has been put in it, and I feel a warm sensation spread through my chest.
He’s a beautiful man to look at. His lips are pouty, full, and his eyes are brown—no, amber. His nose is crooked like it has been broken and fixed one too many times. All of these features sit on a face that tells a story, a dangerous one at that, and I find myself feeling attracted to him.
Pa did try to set us up many times, but I never showed. I wonder now if that has put me on my husband’s bad side. He looks like someone who never forgets. My husband. The words taste like a sour grape. I’m unsure if I like them.
A smile crawls onto my lips when he throws his head back in laughter. My heart clenches, and I find myself grinning. I must look stupid, standing a few feet from the main event, smiling alone. Swallowing the imaginary lump in my throat, I swipe at the strand of hair that keeps falling over my forehead with aggression.
“You look so beautiful, El,” Ma is saying. My head snaps in her direction. I offer her a smile. She takes a sip from the flute of champagne perched between her fingertips with an elegance that surprises even me. My smile widens, and I squeeze her in a brief hug. She cleans up real good.
Her fingers brush my hair, taming that stubborn strand that has come undone from the high puff I managed to make from my wild curls. My hair has a mind of its own, but today, it will have to deal with the style I want.
“Thank you. You look wonderful yourself,” I repay the compliment, and she smiles as she does a little twirl.
She is dressed in a black off-the-shoulder gown that stops just above her knees to reveal her toned legs. Her skin glistens in the sun, she has truly been sun-kissed, and her dimples are prominent when she smiles. Ma no longer has those hollow spaces on either side of her collar bone, and I am glad I decided to marry this man, Brandon.
The name is foreign, like that of many rich kids I attended school with, but hearing it doesn't make me scoff. Instead, I like the way it settles on my tongue, like it’s my favourite candy, and I bite down on my lip to keep from staring in his direction.
Speaking of the devil, Brandon walks up to us with a glass containing some sort of bright bubbly alcohol and whispers into my ear, “Your mother is right, Elna, you look beautiful.”
His voice takes a few seconds to sink in. When it does, my heart goes into overdrive and my nipples harden behind my sleeveless gown. I suck in a sharp breath, the mirthless giggles that escape him telling me he noticed my reaction to his presence. He places a kiss on the back of Ma’s hand, and she excuses herself, saying something about giving the new couple privacy.
Without Ma, the atmosphere grows awkward real quick. I clear my throat. He shoves a hand into his pants pocket, and I turn away under his smothering gaze.
“Are you enjoying our...” he trails off at the speed with which my eyes return to his face, and that mischievous smirk returns to his lips. “Are you enjoying the party?”
“Yes.” My voice is raspy. My nerves have seeped into it, so I clear my throat and say, “Yes, are you?”
Brandon arches an eyebrow like he knows I'm lying. But did he expect me to say otherwise? It's my wedding. I'm supposed to be happy. I have to be happy.
Casting a glance at the guests, he offers me his hand, but I'm hesitant to take it. “Want to dance?”
Dancing has never been my forte, but I don’t want him to know that. “I don’t feel up to dancing.”
Brandon nods. I bite my lip when he strokes my cheek, trying and failing to meet his gaze. My eyelids flutter. His breath fans my face as our eyes finally meet. I forget everything around me and wait, wait for a kiss that never comes.
“You had this on your face,” he mutters, his eyes darting to the almost invisible speck of dirt on his index finger. I grunt in reply. It must have gotten there when I hugged Ma.
Seconds later, after he steps away from me, my eyes follow his, which are fixated on a couple. They are watching us, and I can’t help but feel that the show of affection was solely for their sake. He raises his glass to them, and they do the same.
“Cheers,” he says and comes to stand beside me. Maybe it's just me, but I detect sarcasm in his voice.
The band on the makeshift stage continues with their soulful rendition. They play all kinds of songs, the type I would have wanted at my wedding. I do not consider this wedding mine. It’s too flashy, and the only people I know here are my parents.
Brandon dumps his glass onto the tray of a passing server and wraps his hand around my waist from behind. He tucks his head into the space between my neck and shoulders.
“Relax.” The knots in my joints loosen. I nod, and his arms tighten around me. “Relax and enjoy the moment.”
There’s a strange sense of comfort at having him in such close contact with me as we watch different couples dance like this is their wedding in the space we created at the centre of the small field. I feel it then: I know we’ll get along.