Page 85 of If the Ring Fits

Adrian shrugs, trying to diminish something that surely took a lot of effort to pull off. “I have a few contacts.”

“So when do we meet them?”

Adrian holds the door open for me. “Unfortunately, not for another three weeks. We have the wedding in ten days and they couldn’t schedule us in until the following week. I already got the plane tickets.”

I stop in my tracks. “Wait, where is the meeting?”

Adrian smiles casually. “California. I’m passing the time off as a mini honeymoon.”

Honeymoon. Right. In ten days, we’ll be husband and wife, and somehow, that’s both exactly what I want and not at all. Funny how things can be both perfect and completely off at the same time. I just hope when the day comes, I’ll have the strength to walk down that aisle, wearing the smile he expects as I plunge even deeper into a beautiful, cruel lie.

36

ADRIAN

Golden sunlight streams through the windows of the groom suite, illuminating the dust motes swirling in the air. I adjust my bow tie in the mirror for the tenth time, my fingers trembling. The tux fits me like a glove, crisp and perfectly tailored, but I feel more like an impostor than ever.

In just under an hour, I’ll be standing at the altar with Rowena, pledging my life and love to her in front of everyone we know. It feels so right, as if fate brought us together for this very moment. And yet, the guilty pit in my stomach reminds me I’m still living a charade, that I haven’t found the courage to bare my soul to her and confess my true feelings. I’m lying to her, to her family, to her friends…

Her parents arrived a few nights ago, and even though it was the first time they’d ever met me, they welcomed me with open arms, saying how happy they are to have me as a son-in-law. If they only knew the truth—that this whole engagement started out as a sham, that I’m letting their daughter believe today is still nothing more than a calculated trade-off.

I glance around the empty suite, feeling the absence ofclose friendships acutely. When it was time to pick my groomsmen, I realized my only “friends” were more work acquaintances than anything else. So today, I’ll be borrowing Tristan and Dylan for the role. Great guys, but more Rowena’s people than my own. No matter that I’ve gotten to know them better over the past few months.

A soft knock at the door startles me out of my brooding thoughts. My mother pokes her head in.

“Oh, honey, look at you! So handsome,” she gushes, hurrying over to fuss with my lapels. “How are you feeling? Nervous?”

“Mm-hmm,” I mutter, unable to meet her keen gaze. But Mom must hear what I’m not telling her because she places a hand on my cheek, gentle but firm, forcing me to look at her. “Adrian, listen to me. If you want this to be real—if you wanther—then you need to tell her. Don’t let fear hold you back from something wonderful.”

I swallow rocks. “I don’t know if I can. What if I’m not enough?”

“You are more than enough,” Mom insists fiercely. “Youcanmake her happy. But you need to give her that chance. Don’t wait until it’s too late and you lose her.”

She pats my chest, right over my racing heart, and steps back. “It’s time, sweetheart. Let’s go get you married.”

Adjusting my cufflinks, I nod and follow her out of the suite. My legs feel like jelly as we walk across the lobby and out into the warm, last-day-of-summer air. Central Park awaits, the trees swaying in the gentle breeze, calling me forward to my bride.

As we stride down the sidewalk, dodging the oblivious tourists and harried locals, Mom slips her arm into mine and pulls.

The sun-dappled path through Central Park feels almost ethereal as we make our way to the Bethesda Terrace for the wedding ceremony. A light breeze carries the scent of late summer blooms, and the distant sound of the fountain grows louder with each step.

As we approach the terrace, a strange stillness overtakes me. It’s like stepping into a fairy tale—the grand staircase adorned with cascading white flowers, the elegant arcade framing the iconic angel statue of the Bethesda Fountain. Rows of white wooden chairs line the terrace, filled with guests.

I spot Dylan and Tristan already in place next to the minister, looking sharp in their tuxes. They give me encouraging nods as I take my position near them.

As we wait for the bride, the mellow sounds of the park mingle with the delicate strains of classical music from the string quartet. It’s picture-perfect. Almost too perfect.

My fingers twitch involuntarily as I scan the crowd, waiting for Rowena to appear. I should be over the moon, but unease churns in my gut, warring with the euphoria of what’s about to happen. I paste on a smile, hoping it reaches my eyes.

The music swells and a hush falls over the assembled guests. The bridesmaids arrive. Nina and Hunter begin their procession down the aisle, radiant in flowing gowns the color of champagne and holding matching ivory bouquets. As they take their places opposite me, the string quartet shifts seamlessly into the bridal march.

There, at the end of the aisle on her father’s arm, appears Rowena. An angel in white, gliding toward me, her dress flowing around in the breeze. The subtle curve of her baby bump only adds to her glow.

All I can see is her. All I can feel is the overwhelming rush of love that sweeps through me, and suddenly, I’m fightingback tears. The guests rise in unison, every eye riveted on my stunning bride as she floats ever closer. I plaster on my most charming smile, praying it conceals the whirlwind of emotions threatening to blow my composure.

As Rowena reaches the altar, her father places her delicate hand in mine, giving me a warm nod of approval before taking his seat. Her eyes sparkle up at me, brimming with excitement and unbridled trust. I’ve never felt more worthless.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…” the minister begins, his rich voice resonating under the arcade.

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