Page 119 of The Unwanted Wife

“What?” I snap.

“The bridegroom is nowhere to be found.”

“What the hell?” I jump up and walk over to where my aunt is seated. She’s wringing her hands, and that sinking feeling in my stomach seems to spread to my entire body. “What’s happening, Aunt Margaret?”

She shakes her head, a resigned look on her face.

“Felix; where is he?”

Her features crumple. She angles her phone in my direction. The message on the screen from Felix reads:

Tell Vivian I’m sorry. I can’t go through with it.

My guts churn. Damn, I shouldn’t have drunk that alcohol. I swallow down the bile that laces my throat and hand over her phone. “He’s gone.”

She nods. “Guess he’s following your example.”

“That’s not fair.”

“He never got over you always abandoning him.” She shakes her head. “All he knows is how it feels to have no mother and a father who kept leaving. You can’t blame him for not stepping up to his responsibilities.”

“I stepped up to my responsibility,” I say hotly.

“Did you?” Her voice is sad. She pats my shoulder. “In which case, I’m sure you know how to make this right.” She nods toward the front of the church.

I follow her line of sight to where the bride is standing. Alone. The groomsman has stepped away, as has the priest. The crowd is beginning to thin. She didn’t have any bridesmaids, nor anyone to walk her down the aisle. No one has gone to her to offer comfort. She stands there, spine straight, facing forward, her fingers clasped together in front of her. A ray of light slants down through the stained glass above the altar and haloes her figure.

She’s an angel. A vision. A mermaid risen from the depths of the sea, come to save me. She’s what I’ve been waiting for. The woman I’ve been searching for. The one I’ve sworn to give my heart to. She’s the most beautiful woman I‘ve ever seen, and she is mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.

I put one foot in front of the other, until I’m abreast of her. I stare forward at the candles glowing on the altar. The scent of strawberries and that something musky is so strong, my entire being is ablaze. With need. With hope. With fear. With the certainty that what I’m going to do now is the right thing. With the clarity that this is it. My entire life has led me to this moment, and this time, I will do the right thing.

I turn to her.

My movement must cut through her thoughts, and as if well-rehearsed, she mirrors my stance. She looks up into my eyes, and through the veil, I catch the first glimpse of her eyes. They’re not blue, not green, but… violet. The most sublime deep rich shade—more muted than purple, brighter than green, more nuanced than blue. My heart stutters. My pulse seems to pause, then roars back to thud at my temples, my wrists, even in my balls. I am a seething mass of need. Of want. Of a yearning, which fills me so powerfully, it pushes me to reach out and flip up her veil.

Her gaze widens, and her lips part.

Before she can speak, I drop to my knees and look up into her face. “Marry me.”

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