Page 33 of Marrying My Moth Lady

“My face is blotchy, and my makeup is on your shoulder,” I say with a tear-soaked giggle. “I left my purse with my makeup in Matthew’s truck in case we have to make a hasty getaway.”

“You don’t need makeup,” he says, handing me the handkerchief. “You’re a natural beauty. It’s one of the things I love about you.”

“That means a lot, coming from you. Because if my face were a wreck, you would move heaven and earth to provide makeup,” I say with a blow to my nose.

“You better believe it,” he says with a growl against my hackles.

Like he flipped a switch, I laugh.

“There’s my good girl,” he says, lifting my chin to meet my gaze. “We balance each other. I will stand strong when you need to fall apart…if you would warm my heart when I act too cold.”

I rise onto my tiptoes and kiss him as if it’s the most natural act in the world. The spark we’ve nurtured grows into a blaze. My hands map my territory over his torso. When he takes over the kiss, and I’m pressed against the wall again, I let him. My dominant male plays by the rules he wrote.

“Get your hands off my little princess! I thought it was bad luck for you two lovebirds to see one another,” Mr. Carter says, storming into the room. Horus chuckles against my lips, and with one last nose-to-nose kiss, he drops my veil. It falls over my bright smile that stretches my cheeks to aching. Who knew getting caught making out was fun? In the movies, it’s portrayed as mortifying and painful, but I’m tickled pink.

So much for Rash keeping Mr. Carter busy with the reporters…unless he and Amber already skipped town. Good for them. Hopefully, Amber realizes what she has in her clutches on their journey to their happily ever after.

“Yes, sir, but sweet nectar is hard for a worker bee to resist. I can’t wait to be married,” Horus says, looping his arm through mine.

“I said, hands off! It’s a father’s honor to walk his little girl down the aisle. When you survive raising a daughter, then you will walk her down the aisle,” Mr. Carter says with a jovial chuckle and a shove on Horus’s shoulder.

I tense when Mr. Carter loops his arm through mine but relax, as Horus opens the door for us. As we walk through the building to the butterfly gardens, he stays in my line of sight. Whether to intervene if Mr. Carter discovers I’m not Amber or to calm my fears, I appreciate my husband-to-be watching over me. I’m standing on my own two stilettos, but he’s there in case I fall. With the space to breathe but the structure to maintain my anonymity, I could find my purpose. Surely, I’m not meant to live an isolated existence in my treehouse. Confidence blooms in my chest and my chin lifts a fraction higher…until the wedding march starts to play.

Horus

I practically run down the aisle to get in position. The stuffy officiant from the courthouse raises his bushy eyebrows at my haste. Decorum, social norms, reporters, and every other whispering busybody can kick rocks. Every second Millie is out of my sight takes ten years off my life. I’m not scared for the deal to fall through or Eli suing the pants off us. I’m terrified someone will steal her out from under me and stuff her into a lab. My guts are a shaken soda can. One false move and I’ll explode. This is why Matthew’s forehead is a highway map ofworried lines and angry creases—despite being four years my junior.

I lock eyes with my future brother-in-law, who blinds me with the flash of his rented camera. He stomps down the aisle and kneels a foot from the doors where I emerged. To the casual onlooker, he’s in his position to capture the bride’s first step into the low evening sun. The knot in my chest loosens. He’s a foot away from her if this goes pear-shaped. Like a sprinter at the starting line, he balances on the balls of his feet. One pounce and he’s running for the hills with Millie in his arms.

Why does that piss me off? Does it matter which one of us saves her? She must make it through this fiasco in one piece. What a stupid idea! Too much risk to her safety…

Growl. Grumble.I should have stopped at the bathroom…

My dream is to be seen…not necessarily on the big screen at an event, but at all the steps that lead to that moment…

I smear a hand down my face as she emerges from the conservation center. If I lock her away, I won’t be the benevolent brother who has her best interests at heart. I’ll be her jailer. Does she deserve to trade one warden for another? My eyes lock on her stiletto spikes. A thin layer of paper separates her from the uneven grass, yet she doesn’t wobble. She’s surefooted when each step has the potential for a rolled ankle. To show her I love her, I must trust her judgment when making her dreams come true…and finding ways for her to be seen.

Maybe that’s my purpose in our marriage…

“Who gives this bride to this man?” The officiant’s question pulls me from my internal crisis.

“Mr. Eli Carter Junior.” With all the pompous blustering of a circus ringmaster, Mr. Carter announces himself to the crowd. To my horror, he walks in a circle, waving at them. Thank goodness my parents laugh louder than I do, and he frowns at them instead of me. It may be a breeze, but Millie’s veil shakes as if she’s laughing too.

Electricity charges up my arm when I take her hand. My stomach competes with the cicadas in the surrounding trees for the loudest mating song. I take a deep breath to center my swirling thoughts. How can I be strong for her if I pass out? Am I remembering her hum or…she is!

Millie’s hum fights through layers of finery and a strangling flower crown. It radiates from my blushing bride and permeates my skin. Wrapping around my heart and hugging my digestive tubes, I’m soothed to the cellular level. Love ties us together more firmly than the legal certificates we signed.

“Thank you,” I whisper, earning a glare from the officiant for talking during his speech.

She squeezes my hand in response.

I know it would give her away and bring this farce down on our heads, but I wish we could confess vows to one another. I’ve never told her I love her. On the altar, in front of an audience I can’t stand—parents excluded—I want to profess my feelings like a lovesick minstrel. She deserves her face in lights, surrounded by cheers of adoration, for calming me when she’s the one at risk. Her hum could knock one antenna loose. We exchange rings in silence when I want to run through this meadow screaming how much she means to me. My skin itches to burst out of our plan…but her tiny fingers clutching mine keep me grounded.

Millie May

Despite the public circus of our special day, private gifts from Horus to me are hidden in plain view. The lightning bug enclosures Horus made this week hang from an arch over the altar instead of lanterns. Milkweed sits in planters along the aisle to attract moths once the sun finishes its descent. Their pink blooms match the sky. I know Horus will plant them where the chairs currently sit to give the space back to the butterflies. Maybe we can plant them together after dark.

“If there is anyone present who can show just cause why these two persons may not be joined in matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace…”

---