Page 10 of Professional Liar
Four
Katherine
It tooka month to plan the wedding. One month from Pierce agreeing with our naked legs entwined. One month from him slipping a body-warmed ring onto my left hand. One month I should have been excited or happy or nervous.
I felt…resignation.
I hadn’t seen Pierce much either, merely sent him texts with times, dates, and directions.
Fear didn’t skitter down my nerve endings until I lined my heels up with the end of the white runner and Pachelbel’s Canon in D began to play.
Walking suddenly became something foreign and difficult.You got him to marry you. That was the hard part. Get it together.The silk white runner bisecting row after row after row of pews so much farther than the quick rehearsal two days ago.
Only the eyes of two hundred people unfroze my feet and pushed me down the aisle. I tried to walk slow, be graceful. But a line of sweat started to drip down the center of my back under the corset my sister cinched too tight. And the pin in my bouquet poked out one side, jabbing me in the index finger. My hair was clipped too tight, and my shoes pinched.
Maybe everything felt wrong because I deserved it. Guilting Pierce into this marriage, plying him with my body to get what I wanted. That was the plan right? Pierce wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want to be. Now I was just trying to convince myself.
Was it getting harder to breathe?
The thought of him made me look up. Through the net veil, I caught sight Pierce at the end of the aisle, and something clicked in place.
I’d never seen him in a tuxedo. Any event I might catch a glimpse of him where a dress code applied, he just wore black on black jacket, pants, and shirt. Ever the rebel. Ever the bad boy.
I focused on him as he shifted on his feet. Used him as a lifeline to propel me forward. Hands clasped in front him, his tattoos juxtaposed against the snow white of his rigid cuffs. My mouth watered. Something about all that ink peeking out of formal wear, a reminder, a warning, and soon, all mine.
He glanced up at me, and walking became easier, despite the crowd of strangers and the fear ping-ponging doubts in my head.
I went to him. For a few seconds, only we existed. Pierce and me. I closed the final distance on the relationship we both fought for a decade.
I didn’t have anyone to give me away, so I simply extended my hand to him. A heartbeat passed, and my fear surged back. Would he take it? Instead, he stepped forward and adjusted the veil in my hair so gently. Then he scanned my face, winked, and cupped my outstretched hand in his.
He seemed perfectly composed leading us both to stand in front of the priest. My heart beat so fast, I feared everyone could hear it, dispelling the rumors once and for all that I didn’t have one.
The priest began, and I tuned out most of it. I’d been to so many Catholic weddings, I could probably recite his sermon by heart. My entire focus lasered to the grip of Pierce’s fingers on my hand. Gentle and firm, hot against my chilled fingers.
It lasted minutes.
It lasted hours.
It lasted seconds.
Then he kissed me, and everyone’s loud clapping broke through the haze.
I remembered speaking, meeting Pierce’s eyes. His brows drawn tight as he slid his ring on my finger. The flash of something I couldn’t name in his eyes when I slid mine on his.
Everything else blurred as if I hopped in an elevator and skipped every floor to this moment. Pierce escorted me up the aisle by the hand. The crowd pelted us with rice and flowers.
Pierce pulled me into the limo at the curb, and the world caught up, snapping back. I could still hear the cheering outside as the car turned into traffic toward the reception. The scent of him surrounded me, and I jerked the veil out of my hair and tossed it on the opposite seat.
I wished I could strip out of everything. The entire outfit hurt somewhere.
I barely had time to sit back before he dragged me across the leather seats and perched me on his lap. “You’re stuck with me now.”
I thought he meant it as a joke, but the sincerity and uncertainty in his tone as he said it chipped some of the ice off my heart.
“I think I’ve always been stuck with you,” I said. I scanned his face, let the familiar scent of his soap, smoky and masculine wash away some of the haze of the ceremony.
“You’re right. We were both just too stupid to realize it from the beginning. We could have saved each other a lot of trouble if you weren’t so damn stubborn.”
