Page 89 of Golden Burn

It’s done.

I’ve fallen.

Keeping his voice low, his lips hardly moving, Odin leans toward me. “Just pretend.” I can’t process his words, not when he smells this good, not when his fingers grip onto mine, his touch unable to reach its full effect because of the gloves covering my skin.

If I ripped them off right now, it would ruin us.

Thankfully, the celebrant begins to speak. Odin turns from me to look at him, dropping my hand.

Good. Okay. Good.

Not good.

I need this to stop. I don’t want this to continue. I don’t want to pretend to hate Odin when I absolutely do not. I don’t want our wedding to be remembered like this, if for some reason, down the track, we actually decide to stay together. To love each other.

His presence by my side soothes the spinning ball of anxiety in my chest.

Today is not as special as the one that comes after. Because tomorrow, none of these people will be witness to the moment I wake up next to my husband. None of them get to see him like I do. None of them are important, and so, I will not imbue this moment with any more pressure than it deserves.

Straightening, I cool my racing heart and put my mask back on.

I sense Odin’s worry abates when my breathing mostly comes back under control. Only a few more minutes before I deal with the uncertainty of the rest of my life.

The celebrant’s smooth voice takes the lead, filling the ceremony space that I have barely had a chance to admire. I hope the flowers are fresh, for Dom’s sake.

“I am duly authorized to solemnize marriages according to law. Before you are joined in marriage in my presence and in the presence of these witnesses, I am to remind you of the solemn and binding nature of the relationship that you are about to enter. Marriage, according to the law, is the union of two people to the exclusion of all others. Voluntarily entered into for life.”

Peering behind me, I find Ford, Dom, and Martise sitting in the front row. Juniper is on the end of the aisle, being such a good girl, it eats away at my composure.

Before I know it, it’s time to exchange rings. Dom passes them both to Odin, a silent conversation occurring between them. Dom pats him on the back and returns to his seat. I see the slight tremor in Odin’s shoulders.

This is just as hard for him as it is for me.

The celebrant explains our vows, and Odin goes first. “I call upon the persons present to witness that I, Harvey, take you, Harriet, to be my lawfully wedded wife.” He slides the ring over my gloved hand. A simple gold band, but nothing about its meaning is simple.

Shivering, I speak next and try to keep a slightly distressed expression across my face and a wobble in my voice. “I call upon the persons present to witness that I, Harriet, take you, Harvey, to be my lawfully wedded husband.”

I place the matching ring on Odin’s finger. It catches on his knuckle. I want to laugh at the absurdity of this moment. I should be able to joke about this. I should be turning to my family, embarrassed by the delay.

But I can’t. So, I give it a shove and drop my hands like they’ve been burnt.

Odin’s face remains neutral. Cold. Brutally beautiful.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the celebrant says, and a stiff applause follows. My eyes catch on Cerbera and my stomach heaves with the intensity of a tsunami. I hate that man. More than I ever thought I hated Odin.

I keep that sentiment in my head as Odin reaches for my veil and pulls it over the both of us. I have no idea if this is a tradition that I was somehow unaware of, but I don’t argue. Once in place over his shoulders, it hides us from view. A canopy of his own design. A wall between them and us.

“Not real,” he whispers, right before he grabs my face and presses a harsh kiss to my lips. I gasp into his mouth, fighting back tears as he holds me against him.

This is not the first kiss between wife and husband.

This is a desperate distraction. A gesture meant to fool those in attendance. It hurts how much I wish it wasn’t so. Because this isn’tOdin I’m kissing. This is the man they created when they killed his wife and broke his soul.

This is awful and hurried, and when he breaks it, my lips are bruised and my jaw hurts from the force of his grip.

When the veil is removed by his hands, I slap him hard across the face. So hard that the crowd of onlookers gasp. The satin of my gloves cushions the pain, but I feel it, nonetheless, ricocheting back into me.

Odin barely flinches. He takes the hit, his eyepatch shifting. I want to sob, watching him fight the need to touch it in front of everyone.

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