Page 10 of The Broken Beginning: Part One

He nodded his head. “Five years. If you’re not happy then, you can leave, and I will back your choice and make it happen.”

“What about him? Does he get to haul ass in five years too, or is he stuck with me if I decide to stay?”

My father simply shook his head, making it clear that this was for life for Damon unless I chose to leave him. A knock on the door indicated that it was time, and my father put both his hands on my shoulders, squeezing gently.

“Everything will be okay, baby girl, I promise.”

He stepped back and sniffed back some emotion that the man tried hard not to show before I whispered words to myself that would plague me forever. “We don’t lie.” I knew my father placating me that everything would be okay sounded just like that – a lie on his lips, even if he wanted the lie to be true.

My father walked me out into the back yard where they had set up a pergola at the end of a makeshift walkway. On either side, folding chairs sat witness to my impending nuptials. Some of the chairs were filled with men from the club. Others were filled with their women, all of whom looked upon me with sadness and maybe a little pity in their eyes. Then, there was my one friend who came to support me. Stacey sat front and center at the end of the aisle, almost as if she could catch me or help me flee from this craziness.

She gave me a quick thumbs up as my father began to walk me down the aisle toward the man who was being forced into this marriage with a girl he never wanted. He wore newer black jeans, his worn-in motorcycle boots, and a white dress shirt. Over top the dress shirt was his kutte, and there was no missing the fact that he’d been patched in as a member. His buddy, Charles Brothers, stood beside him. I hadn’t thought to make Stacey a bridesmaid, since this wasn’t a real wedding. I guess he needed to have a best man though. Charles was also working on getting his patch, though from the looks of his kutte, he was still a prospect. Both men wore them with pride. Both men were still just boys to the rest though. Damon was eighteen while Charles was a little younger.

Charles nudged Damon to get his attention. When Damon finally looked up, I could see what amounted to fear in his eyes. Then determination steeled his spine as he glared me down until I stood right in front of him.

“Boy, if you don’t wipe that look off your face right now, we’ll be hosting a funeral instead of a wedding,” my father threatened him.

I couldn’t lift my eyes to see if Damon was still scowling after that. Instead, I kept my head bowed, almost as if I was praying throughout the whole service. When it was my turn to recite the vows, I did it so quietly, the preacher who was presiding had to ask me to repeat myself. The chuckles in the crowd just made me feel even queasier than I already did, and before I could finish reciting my vows, I threw up right beside the preacher’s shoes. Then I glanced up at him and off to the side in absolute horror.

“Fuckin’ great!” Damon huffed as Charles laughed. Meanwhile, the preacher side-stepped to the right, closer to Damon than me and moved the podium over to block the puddle of nerves that now soaked into the ground there. Thankfully, it was just grass, and would eventually wash away with the rain that was due later today. No muss, no fuss.

Worst wedding ever.

Stacey came waltzing up as if she totally belonged there, in the middle of my nuptials, and handed me a little wet wipe and a tiny bottle of water. Bless my bestie for being so damn kind and prepared.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, completely embarrassed as everyone just watched in complete and utter fucking silence. One sip of water just started my heaving all over again, to my complete mortification.

“Jesus,” Damon said before turning his back on me to speak quietly to Charles. Was it strange that I hadn’t noticed what road name they’d given to Damon?

Not that any of this mattered before, but it was ridiculous that my soon-to-be-husband found me completely disgusting and for good reason. Who pukes during their own wedding? Me. That’s who. The asshole could have at least asked if I was okay though, instead of turning his back on me and the mess I was making.

My best friend, Stacey, stood there and stared every single asshole in attendance down. “You all know she’s pregnant, right? She’s been sick a lot. If someone wants to get off their lazy ass and grab the girl some ginger ale or maybe a packet of crackers to help settle her stomach, that would be fantastic and then we can get this shit show over with!”

My father jumped into action then, but he was beat to the punch by an older woman who I wasn’t really familiar with. Camilla belonged to one of the men from the club, but she wasn’t his old lady. She was his mistress and that was about all I knew about her. It made me wonder if one day, I’d watch from the sidelines as my own husband’s mistress attended club events instead of me. If I had anything left to vomit, it probably would have come up at just the thought.

“Here you are, sweetie. This should help.”

Mistress or not, she was the only one to get off her ass, aside from my best friend, to help me. “Thank you.” I wish my words had come out stronger. I wish they hadn’t sounded like the pitiful whimper they were.

“You are strong, resilient, and you will not let this shit beat you in front of these assholes,” she whispered to me. It was only then that I allowed our eyes to meet. “When this is all over, and you’ve had a moment to settle, I’m going to come see you and we’re going to have a chat about how you’re going to get through this and come out with your head held high, you hear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” was my only response. She popped the top on the can of ginger ale and stood by, blocking everyone else’s view of me while I took a few cautious sips. Then she took the can back from me.

“I think that’s enough for now. Don’t want a repeat performance,” she teased with a wink, and it was the first time I managed a smile all day. I nodded my thanks and both Camilla and Stacey took their seats as I moved back into place and turned my focus to the preacher who smiled kindly at me.

“Sorry.” The apology rolled off my tongue before I could pull it back.

“Sometimes, the blessings we bear come with challenges that must be met.” The man glanced sidelong at Damon and rolled his eyes quickly back to me. “I think your strength shows even as you feel weak. Others aren’t yet wise enough to understand these things.”

It was a dig at my future husband’s response to me being sick at the altar. He had not been amongst the three people who offered to step forward and help me in my time of need. Instead, he chose to shoot the shit with his best man while everyone else took care of me. It was exactly how I thought this marriage was going to go, so I wasn’t sure why I was suddenly so disappointed.

I repeated my vows for the preacher, audibly that time. Damon did the same. There were no rings to exchange, something my father growled about from the audience. There was another moment, where everyone waited with bated breath for something to happen, that simply didn’t. Murmurs shot up around the crowd before the preacher moved on and pronounced us husband and wife.

“You may kiss the bride,” he insisted while shifting his focus to Damon.

It was Damon’s turn to scoff. “You’re damn near standing in her puddle of puke, if you think I’m getting anywhere near her mouth right now, you’re sadly mistaken. I think we’ll skip that part.”

“You little mother fucker!” My dad yelled before he charged my new husband and started pummeling him right there in front of everyone gathered. I was quickly pulled back and out of the way by Charles who leaned in to whisper in my ear.

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