Page 15 of Third Time Lucky

‘Thank you, handsome,’ I whisper back.

He beams – the exact smile you want to see from your groom-to-be on your wedding day. My heart warms a little. Maybe it’s not so undecided.

‘Welcome,’ the hotel’s hired magistrate speaks to the packed room as Brandon and I take our places next to one another, my now sweaty hand securely wrapped in his.

‘Relax, Lucy girl,’ he whispers, shaking my hand.

I nod, taking a deep breath.

Everything is fine, Lucy. People get married every day, and rarely do they die from it. You’re letting your anxiety get the best of you.

I glance behind me at the full house of people now seated, and all eyes are on us. I didn’t expect this many people to show up to an out-of-state wedding. Did Mitzi invite the entirety of Las Vegas, too? Jeesh. And here I was, worried about inviting two extras at the last minute. I can almost feel the piercing gaze of expectations that I’m afraid I’ll fail at. I see Asher and his friend sitting on the right, near the middle of the outside pews. What must they think?

The magistrate’s voice has me turning back to Brandon. ‘We’re here today to witness Lucy and Brandon’s happily ever after. Marriage isn’t created by a law or a ceremony but rather by the hearts of two people in love. Marriage grows by loving, caring, and sharing ourselves with another – which these two have done for two years now. Of course, this ceremony isn’t magic; it won’t create a relationship that doesn’t already exist. Our couple have made commitments to each other in the days since they met, and today, we tie the knot. But first, let’s get the big scary question out of the way: if anyone can show just cause why these two should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace.’

I glance around the room, hearing silence. A peace falls over me – untilsomeone clears their throat and stands: Asher.

‘I, uh…’ He swallows hard, raising his hand awkwardly. ‘I’ve got just cause.’

‘Who the hell are you?’ Brandon asks, staring at him with his eyes narrowed.

‘Name’s Asher Wright; I’m an old friend of Lucy’s, a new enemy of yours, I suspect.’

Brandon’s glance snaps to me. ‘Friend of yours?’

I nod, unsure what to say. ‘What are you doing?’ I ask Ash. If I wasn’t mistaken, I’d say he is sweating right now. Why? Something is very wrong.

‘You can’t marry him, Luce.’ He shoves his hands in his pockets, clearly uncomfortable.

‘Luce?’ Brandon mimics like he hates this guy using my nickname.

I ignore him for now. ‘Why not?’

Asher looks at the ground, then back to me. ‘He’s not who you think he is…’

The fact that he seems unsure is making me doubt him. Maybe he’s not the same Asher he was. I mean, I haven’t seen the guy in over a decade; perhaps he’s changed.

‘I… don’t understand.’

His friend, still sitting, nudges him. ‘Show her, you’re gonna have to show her,’ he says, pretending to be coughing between words. Slick.

‘Show me what?’

Brandon sighs heavily, shaking his head. ‘Jealousy, it comes in all forms, folks. Can we get on with this?’

I touch his shoulder, stopping him from performing a one-man show by putting down a former friend. ‘Let’s hear him out,’ I suggest.

With a roll of his eyes, Brandon crosses his arms over his chest. ‘Fine. Speak, stranger. Let’s hear it.’

‘Trust me,’ Ash says, his eyes on me while ignoring Brandon as he approaches, pulling his phone from his pocket as he walks. ‘The last thing you want to do is hear it. I think seeing it will be enough.’ He hands me the phone, tapping the screen before letting go. ‘I couldn’t not tell you – I’m sorry.’

He’s sorry? Crap. I can see it in his eyes. They’re prying and pained, and practically the exact look he had when he showed up at my door the night Kris died. Jeez – how bad is this?

I’m almost afraid to look at the screen. But I do. Loaded is a video. I press play and almost immediately regret it. Instinct tells me I’m not supposed to see this, so I cover my eyes but then force my hand away to ensure I’m seeing what I can never unsee.

As Brandon glances at the phone, he gasps. ‘What the—? No-no-no. Give me that.’

He tries to swipe the phone from me, but I grip it with an iron fist, staring him down between glances at the screen. My breathing speeds the longer I watch, and my chest tightens with each second the video plays. Panic sets in like fast-set concrete. This can’t be happening.

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