Page 117 of Necessary Cruelty

When the music starts up, I’m almost grateful that my stepmother insisted on hiring a full orchestra to play. The Bridal March wouldn’t have the same power coming from a tinny loudspeaker.

Emma comes first, dressed in a pink confection of a dress and flinging handfuls of flower petals in every direction.

But at the sight of Zaya walking down the aisle, it doesn’t matter that my friends are snickering behind me and the closest bridesmaid is surreptitiously checking her phone.

I don’t care about anything except for how beautiful she looks.

Her hair is done up in a twist with gentle curls framing her face. The one thing I insisted on was that the stylist Giselle hired not do anything to straighten it. Her dress is a creamy ivory, fitted at her slim waist and flowing into a full skirt that makes me desperate to find out what might be underneath it.

If there is a garter on her thigh, I am definitely tearing it off with my teeth.

The music swells just as she steps up beside me.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she murmurs in my ear.

“Or an angel.”

“Shut up.” She rolls her eyes, but the blush on her cheeks makes it clear that she appreciates the compliment.

“You know how I feel about dresses — can’t wait to get up under this one.”

She stifles a giggle just as Father Mackerly begins the service.

This time it feels like second nature to gently kiss her when we’re pronounced man and wife for the second time in as many months. The surprised gasps and appreciative murmurs from the crowd don’t even faze me. I wonder how many people just lost bets on whether or not I’d actually go through with this.

I have never given less than a shit about what people think.

My hand grazes the flat plane of her belly over stiff lace as she pulls away from me, mind whirling over the possibilities. Up until now, all of this felt like playing pretend.

Now, it’s real.

We have about five minutes to enjoy congratulations before Zaya is being whisked away again by the wedding planner. Apparently, she has another dress to change into for the reception, because this hasn’t already been enough of a circus.

She casts me an apologetic smile as her hand slips out of mine. I still feel the heat of her against my palm even once she disappears from sight. I take a glass from a passing waiter to calm my damn nerves.

I try to mingle without looking like the only place I want to be is upstairs and between my wife’s legs. My friends have already claimed their bridesmaids and have melted away to seal the deal. Nothing unwads panties like a wedding reception. The stink of marital bliss must be some sort of aphrodisiac.

I check my watch again, shocked to find that less than a minute has passed since the last time I looked at it.

Someone bumps hard into me from behind, and champagne splashes my suit.

“Looks like you do always do get what you want.”

I turn to see Jake Tully of all people, looking like he has spent the better part of the day drowning in hard liquor. The sour smell of it wafts off of him. My gaze takes in his wrinkled suit and bloodshot eyes. “Someone has been taking advantage of the open bar, I see.”

“Fuck off, Cortland.” He swipes the sleeve of his suit jacket against his runny nose, leaving a trail of snot on the fabric. Hopefully, that shit isn’t a rental. “And congratulations, for now at least. Something tells me I’ll eventually end up with your leftovers again. Third’s time the charm.”

The anger on his voice is for more than the ass beating he got on the first day of school or whatever happened at the Founder’s Ball. It only takes a minute of mulling it over before something clicks into place for me. “You and Sophia.”

“She came running to me after you dumped her, probably thinking that it would make you jealous or some shit. I wanted to get back at you, too, so it seemed like a fun time. A few more times after that just for fun, and now my life is over.” Jake gropes for my glass, and I let him take it. Hopefully, a few more gulps of champagne will be enough to get him to pass out somewhere. “You know, I didn’t believe it when people said getting in your way would only mess me up. Guess this is what I get for not listening. Whatever demon owns your soul definitely puts in long hours.”

I almost feel sorry for him. Almost. Nobody told him to stick his dick where it doesn’t belong. “Just because Sophia is pregnant, doesn’t mean she’ll stay that way.”

“With the way my luck is going, I’m not taking bets.” He eyes me over the rim of the champagne flute as he drains it, tipping the glass upside down for the last few drops. “But maybe I’m not the only one whose luck has run out.”

Something in his tone makes me wonder if the guy is as drunk as he seems. He looks at me like he would like nothing better than to pound me into the dirt, even if he knows better than to try.

I resist the urge to shove him away when Jake stumbles past me. This is my wedding, after all, it wouldn’t look good if I got into a fistfight during the reception with a guy drunk off his ass. He can be as pissed off as he wants to be, I’m the one who just married the girl he wants.

But something about his last words leave me cold. Misery loves company, and he has enough of it to drag us both to the bottom of the ocean.

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