Page 61 of Save You

“I found out for you, Beth,” Leo whispers. I look at the driver before I turn toward him with greedy anticipation. “He called her Rosalie, Beth; Rosie for short.”

I throw my face inside of my hands, still trying really hard not to cry, because not only did he call her the name we had agreed on, but he’s also calling her that right now. And I want to be there calling her that too, with him. Instead, I am being driven to marry a man who I hate; a man who dragged me away from all that I love and all that I am.

“I’m sorry, Beth.” Leo squeezes my hand a little bit harder as he passes me a tissue.

“Do I still look ok?” I ask as soon as I’ve managed to calm myself down.

“Beautiful,” he replies without a smile. There is no reason to smile today.

As soon as we’re at the church, the first thing I notice is all the heavily armed security surrounding the building. There’re far too many to count, and all of them are looking around for potential threats, reminding me of when I had been escorted through the airport, back in California. Leo gets out of the car first, then leads me toward the church under armed guard.

“Leo,” I whisper nervously, “why am I being so heavily guarded?”

“Come on, Beth, you’re not stupid. You have to know that someone like Oliver Lawrence will have many enemies, which means-”

“Which means I’m a target?” I finish for him.

He says nothing, just nods, causing my knees to almost buckle from underneath me. They haven’t needed much more encouragement to do so anyway. Leo reaches out to hold me steady, then props up my arm to literally carry me over to the steps.

“Don’t worry, Beth,” Leo whispers out the corner of his mouth, “no one is getting to you because I will be there to stop them. So long as you stay hidden, you are safe. You have to stay being Angela Steele until your day comes. You hear me?”

Even though I no longer believe in that day anymore, I nod and straighten myself to walk up the steps to where Claire, Sophie, and Maisie are waiting for us, right alongside my grandfather. He is suited and booted, and ready to walk me up the aisle. When I see him smiling smugly down at us, a bitter feeling of resentment erupts from within me. I stare at his proud, self-satisfied face, waiting to rob my father of an honor that should have been his. Instead, he is somewhere mourning the loss of his daughter, who he believes died during childbirth.

After security gives us the all-clear to go inside, I take a moment to breathe in deeply and look up at the ominous building before me. It’s reminiscent of the cathedral from The Omen, but reluctantly, I take hold of Carl’s arm. The wooden doors open to reveal pews of guests, who all turn to watch as we come in with their happy, nosy faces beaming at me. They look at me as though I know each and every one of them personally. A string quartet begins the wedding march as soon as we step inside, and several gasps sound out as little Maisie and Sophie begin walking up the floral-decorated aisle.

Nausea engulfs me when Carl begins pulling me along through the entrance to follow the girls, only pausing to let Claire place my veil over my face so I can look every bit the virgin bride. Once we pass the back row of guests, I look up to see Oliver waiting expectantly with a line of ushers, including Chad of all people. The creepy toad of a man is wearing smug smile, and when he catches my eye, he gives me a quick wink to make me feel that little bit more uncomfortable.

By the time I finally reach Oliver, I can feel drops of perspiration dripping down my back. I have to try to steady my trembling hands as they grip hold of my bouquet with white knuckle force. The ceremonious passing of my hand from Carl’s over to Oliver happens, leaving me to face my soon-to-be husband. I’m met with a smug expression that tells me he’s won; that I am finally his.

We exchange vows and sign the relevant papers before he lifts my veil and claims me with a deep kiss. When I say ‘we’, I mean Oliver and a void that is me. I’m not even in my body right now, I am floating above, watching it all and screaming, but nobody hears me.

“Finally,” he whispers inside of my ear with the crowd clapping and cheering behind us. As we descend the aisle, the girls follow closely behind us, with Leo and Claire taking up the rear.

I am officially Mrs Lawrence!

Chapter 25

Xander

It’s dark now, and only the crackling bonfire is shedding any kind of light; there’s not even a moon tonight. Most of the guests left after offering me their condolences and sad looks of pity. Beth’s mom took Rosie back to their place a long while ago, looking desperate to get away from the sadness of saying goodbye to her only daughter. I won’t see my own daughter until tomorrow morning, which is probably a good thing. I’ve already had far too much to drink and don’t plan on stopping yet.

Mal is pretty much an older mirror image of me, slumped on his chair, staring out toward the fire with a lost expression. I don’t think we’ve said a single word to one another in the past hour or so. There’s nothing really left to say after a day like today. Every now and then, one of us will sigh and drink, but otherwise, we seem to both be comfortable in one another’s silent grief.

“Mal?” a voice I’ve never heard before calls out from behind us. The shock of it makes me turn around to see who it is; however, Mal remains lost in his own sad thoughts. I turn to see a well-dressed woman with dark, curly hair, and who is probably in her fifties or sixties, walking toward us with a sad smile.

“Mal?” she calls out again, but when he makes no attempt to respond, I end up nudging at his arm, snapping him out of it with a slight jump. When he finally looks at me with a questioning frown, I gesture to the woman.

At first, he squints his eyes at her, looking as though he has no idea who she is or what she’s doing here. He steps toward her and looks more closely as she laughs over his inability to recognize her.

“Sadie?” he gasps. “Jesus, is that you?!”

She laughs a little harder before stepping into his shadow and throwing her arms around his shoulders. He hugs her back and has a little disbelieving chuckle to himself.

“I haven’t seen you since I was ten, where have you been?!” He pulls back to look at her, still disbelieving what is clearly in front of him.

“Cillian and I moved to Ireland when Tom’s father died,” she explains, then gestures toward the seats where we were just sitting. “Did he not tell you?”

“No,” he replies a little sheepishly, before they both sit down. “He didn’t mention your name after you left.”

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