ELARA
I cry at my own wedding.
The priest stares between us, me in Tynan’s arms, him looking as rigid and displeased as ever.
His two brothers, Fionn and Cillian, stand as witnesses, just as cold and unmoving as he is. They don’t say a word. No one does. No one except the priest.
“Uh, are you sure about this?” he asks Tynan, who appears ready to shoot the man to death.
I let out a sniffle, and when he peers down at me, his features soften and he almost appears kind.
What a stupid thought.
The back of his hand softly caresses my cheek, and I hate them. Hate those butterflies that seem to soar every time he touches me. I don’t want them. Not after today.
He stares deeply and his mouth drops to mine as he whispers, “Ná caoin a stór. Tá tú ag briseadh mo chroí.”
Those words pour out of him.
I can feel them, even though I have no clue what they mean. But for some strange reason, they bring me comfort even while every part of me fights what’s happening.
“You speak Gaelic?”
He nods with a tiny hint of a smile. “We all do. Our father has taught us the language, and I’ll teach our child too.”
Child. He wants a child. Oh, God. I forgot.
He wipes my tears away and drops a kiss to my forehead. “I’m sorry, Elara.” His voice hums across my ear. “Please don’t cry. You’re breaking my heart.”
I didn’t even know he had one.
The tip of my nose stings as I accept my fate.
At least for now.
As I throw my arms around his neck, all the fight in me washes away. I don’t have any strength to fight right now.
His brows gather, intensity flashing through his eyes, like he realizes what that means. That I’m ready.
“Start,” he tells the priest. “And just get to the good part. I want it done.”
The priest nods nervously, holding the Bible tighter in his grasp.
“Repeat after me,” he tells Tynan. “I, Tynan Donal Quinn, take you, Elara Rain Hill, as my wife, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, ’til death do us part.”
I swallow the lump in my throat as I wait for Tynan to recite his portion of the vows. I’m glad he knew to use my new name. I don’t want to give Jerry any chance of finding me.
Tynan repeats the words. Then it’s my turn, swearing to be the wife of a man I don’t want.
The priest finishes off the rest, reciting blessings before he says, “Lord, bless Tynan Donal Quinn and Elara Rain Hill and consecrate their married life.”
One of Tynan’s brothers hands him two rings, and Tynan slips a diamond-encrusted band over my engagement ring and gives the other to me.
“Place it on my finger.” He pushes his hand up from under me so I can slip it on.
“May these rings be a symbol of your faith in each other and a reminder to you of your love. Through Christ our Lord. Amen. You may kiss the bride.”
At that, Tynan’s eyes darken, his chest rising with each deep breath. He cups my cheek and stares into my eyes, and it’s like I’m frozen, unable to look away. Not wanting to.