Page 85 of Sins and Secrets

Waverly can’t see this. Fuck, hasn’t he hurt her enough? How much more damage can he do to her? With about fifteen big steps I could punch his smug smirk off his face. I could do it. Fucking Darren grabs me, again.

Waverly is only a few feet away when she makes eye contact with me. Her pristine smile never falls, but she mouths the words, ‘Calm down.’

Does she know? This is obviously all an act, right?

Her eyes dart to the other members of the bridal party, and she smiles brighter. Then she glances over at the camera man. Photos.

Shit! The photos!

Once she’s on the altar, she must communicate some psychic message to the other bride’s maids because they all have the same fake smile. However, Waverly's joy is real.

Just when I’m ready to lose my shit completely, she wiggles her long, beautiful fingers at my brother and his fucking date. She’swaving to them, same genuine, goofy smile.

Kyle’s brother mutters, “She’s so gangster.”

Darren whispers in my ear, “You’ve got yourself a great girl.”

There’s no reason for her to be put through all this. That douche canoe brought the woman he cheated on Waverly with and he’s parading her around like he’s the winner of the lottery.

With every second that passes, my blood boils and adrenaline surges through my muscles. I want to simultaneously vomit and murder someone.

Glancing over at her, she’s still smiling and catches my eye. Her fingers brush against her hair and across her cheek, resting on her lips. ‘Smile,’ she sends me the non-verbal message.

I blink at her. Why should I smile or be calm?

Her eyes flash over to the cameraman and back to Kyle. Before I can respond, the music changes, the doors open, and Angie steps over the threshold with her father on her arm. My little sister has been planning her wedding since she was six, and she looks like a princess. Her dress has a long, white puffy skirt, and the bodice has delicate hand sewn flowers. She’s glowing in the church.

One more quick glance at Waverly and I get it. Nothing else matters to her but Angie’s big day. All of this is for Angie.

Her father kisses her and hands her over to Kyle. He turns to sit and sees his spawn’s behavior, and the front five pews grimace when he says, “What the fuck?”

I can’t see Angie’s face because she’s handing her flowers to Waverly, but her shoulders stiffen the same way they do whenever someone leaves only one Oreo in the package. (It’s me. I do it, I’m the monster.)

My sister takes a deep breath as the priest steps forward to say, “Dearly beloved….” The wedding continues and none of the guests are aware of the drama playing out in the front row. The bridesmaids stand off to the side, placing Waverly directly in front of my brother, who is constantly touching his date in wildly inappropriate ways. My good girl never lets her face change from the image of serene happiness. Even when Adam does a reading about love being patient and kind, his hypocritical voice does nothing to Waverly. Meanwhile, everyone in the bridal party is rolling their eyes and giving him death glares.

With each passing second, my hatred for Adam grows, but so does my admiration for Waverly. Her strength and compassion, her thoughtfulness in everything she does, I’m constantly telling her I don’t need her to support me, and yet, I do. She’s healed me in ways I didn’t realize I was broken.

I’m in love with her, and it’s not just something said at night during sex.

Maybe I never stopped.

And my twat of a brother is hurting her.

The heat kicks on during the second reading and the church cooks us like an oven. Guests are shedding their coats while the rest of the groomsmen and I sweat to death.

My brother makes a big motion of taking off his jacket and rolling his sleeves before throwing his arm around his poor, suffering date again. Now I’m sick for a whole different reason. The outrageously shitty placement offends me as a tattoo artist. The purple ink. The design I was given distinct instructions for whenever I see it.

Majesty

Internally, I grin, because now this becomes a problem I don’t have to deal with.

The bride and groom take their vows and cheers erupt once they’re presented to everyone. They walk down the aisle and we start our recessional.

I’m about to cut off Kyle’s brother so I can walk with Waverly. I mean, the damage has been done, right? But she takes Kyle’s brother’s arm, and they walk together. Linking arms with Kyle’s sister, my mind swirls with ways to keep Waverly away from all this embarrassment.

“That’s some bullshit,” his sister says.

I huff through my nose, not really trusting my voice. I’ve got to get Waverly out of here. I whisper, “Can you grab Waverly’s coat and purse the second we get into the vestibule?”

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