Page 47 of Pucking Obsessed

“Actually,” I say, stepping forward before Kirsten can reply, “if you’re expecting Mr. Lockwood to treat me like a daughter, you might want to start treating Kirsten like one, too.”

My mother’s eyes narrow, pinning me with that sharp, piercing gaze she’s perfected. Her lips press together so tightly I wonder if they’ll disappear entirely. For a moment, it looks like she’s going to argue, but instead, she sighs and turns back to the mirror, fussing with the lace on her sleeve. “Fine,” she says coldly. “Do what you want.”

I grab my bouquet and hand it to Kirsten, who raises her eyebrows slightly, clearly surprised. “Here,” I say softly. “It’s yours.”

She hesitates for a moment, then takes the bouquet from me, a satisfied smile spreading across her face. I usher her out of the room and down the hall toward the sanctuary where the ceremony will take place.

We stand together, waiting for the signal, and she leans toward me, her voice low. “My father is furious about the video,” she murmurs.

I glance at her, unsure of what to say. I want to ask her if it was shown anywhere else or sent to anyone personally,but before I can respond, she adds bitterly, “He’s more upset about that than the fact you’re fucking my brother.”

The words hit me like a slap, and I flinch despite myself. Her tone isn’t cruel, just blunt, so I decide to let it roll off.

The soft strains of music drift through the hallway, signaling it’s time to start. The chapel is breathtaking. Light spills through the high arched stained-glass windows, casting colorful patternsover the polished wooden pews. Soft white lilies and delicate pink roses line the aisle in cascading arrangements, their subtle perfume mixing with the faint scent of aged wood and the flickering candles lining the altar. Everything is draped in ivory silk, from the ribbons adorning the pews to the flowing fabric draped across the altar. It’s elegant and classic. It looks like Mr. Lockwood gave my mother exactly the sort of wedding she would dream of.

Kirsten’s dress shimmers under the sunlight streaming through the windows. She goes first, holding the bouquet tightly in her hands, her shoulders straight. She beams at the guests already seated in the pews. They’re spread out across all of the rows, but they’re all here for Mr. Lockwood. My mother’s family cut her off when she chose to stay with my father, and honestly, I can’t blame them. Kirsten’s smile is bright, almost defiant. I can’t help but think she’s enjoying proving everyone wrong by sauntering down the aisle instead of hiding away. Mr. Lockwood, already standing at the altar, watches her with a deep frown etched into his face.

Waiting my turn, my eyes instinctively search for Hayden. He should be standing next to his father, but the space where he’s supposed to be is glaringly empty. My chest tightens as I glance around, scanning the room for him. I know Hayden is more than capable of taking care of himself, but I don’t like that I can’t find him.

I’m fidgeting with the skirt of my gown when Hayden appears beside me. I swear the sight of him makes my heart stop for a beat. His charcoal gray suit fits him perfectly, the crisp white shirt underneath highlights the golden tan of his skin. His tie is knotted expertly, and I wonder who he threatened into tying it for him because he hates anything that isn’t a t-shirt or a hoodie.

It’s Hayden’s hair that really gets me. The dark strands are slightly tousled and just long enough to fall into his eyes.

Without thinking about the audience we have, I reach up to push it back, my fingers brushing against his forehead. He smirks, his lips twitching like he’s holding back a witty retort.

It’s his eyes, the way they soften when they meet mine, that make all of my worries disappear for the moment. Speaking of worries, I push up on my tiptoes and whisper, “Got another note.”

Hayden frowns, his brows pulling together as his jaw tightens. I discreetly pretend to adjust the top of my dress and then slip the folded note into his hand. His fingers brush mine as he takes it.

“It was in my dress box,” I explain softly. “Do you think it could’ve been planted days ago?” I look around and then back at Hayden. ”Or maybe they’re here now.”

Hayden’s jaw clenches, and I can see the muscles flex beneath his perfectly sharp cheekbones. I let my gaze trail over him for a moment, taking in the strong lines of his profile. Straight nose pointing to the full lips that have ruined me, and those lashes that Kirsten would kill for. I knew Hayden was handsome the moment I saw him, but standing here next to me, he’s something else entirely. He’s stunning.

I almost forget that I’m next to walk down the aisle. “My turn,” I tell him and take one step forward. Hayden shadows me, offering his arm to me. I look up at him with confusion.

He flexes his arm under my touch as I loop my hand through it, and I feel the strength in his bicep. “Our turn,” he murmurs.

I should tell him this isn’t what our parents want, but he already knows that and doesn’t care. Hayden wants to walk me down the aisle, and that’s exactly what he’s going to do. He leads me forward, and I let him because that’s what I want too.

As we walk down the aisle, Hayden leans closer, his breath tickling the shell of my ear. “This dress makes me want to murder every man in here, in case you were wondering,” he says, his tone low, meant only for me. “I’m not going to be able to keep my hands off of you.”

I can’t help the smile that spreads across my lips. “I missed you,” I whisper back, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye.

His entire face lights up at my admission, and the warmth of his expression makes me forget that there are at least two dozen people watching us. For a moment, it’s just the two of us, and I can feel the last of my walls crumbling down for him.

There’s a softness in Hayden’s voice when he says, “ I missed you more, baby.”

When we reach the end of the aisle, instead of letting me go, Hayden lifts my hand to his lips. His touch is light and reverent as he brushes a kiss over my knuckles. A collective “aww” rises from the seated guests, and heat rushes to my cheeks.

Hayden’s lips curve into a smirk as he releases my hand, his dark eyes never leaving mine as he moves over to stand with his father.

As I step to the side, taking my place next to Kirsten, the wedding march begins and all the guests stand and turn to wait for my mother to appear.

“They should have played the Wicked Witch of the West theme song,” Kirsten says, and she’s not quiet about it. Mr. Lockwood looks like he’s really going through it so I don’t say it out loud, but they really should have.

HAYDEN

The wedding reception is an over-the-top, glitzy affair, which is exactly the kind of nauseating spectacle I’d expect from my father. My mother’s finally gone, and he needs someone to dote on apparently. I think he’s the reason I’m the way I am. He lacks empathy like I do, and I suspect that’s why anyone will do. He never loved my mother, but he needed someone on his arm. I went the other way, nothing would ever meet my standards, that is, until I got one look at my girl.

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