Page 124 of Rules Of Engagement: St. Louis
“She’s beautiful,” I murmured to Christian as we found our seats in the third row.
“She is.”
The ceremony began with a saxophonist playing a soft melody, and I tried to focus on the beauty of the moment rather than the memories it stirred. But as the officiant began speaking about love and commitment and the sanctity of marriage vows, my throat started to tighten.
Till death do us part.
Those were the same words Gerald and I had spoken. The same promises we’d made to each other in front of family and friends who’d believed we meant them. The same lies I’d been foolish enough to believe in.
“Are you okay?” Christian whispered, his hand finding mine.
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
Adrian and David were writing their own vows, speaking about finding their soulmate and promising to love each other through whatever challenges life brought. Their words were beautiful, heartfelt, and what every couple believed on their wedding day.
But promises were easy to make and even easier to break.
Christian’s hands gripped mine, and I realized my hands were shaking. I pulled away, clasping them in my lap instead.
The reception was held in the adjacent ballroom, featuring a live band and a dance floor that could accommodate up to 200 guests. Christian introduced me to cousins from Chicago. Another set of beautiful brothers, Hunter, Xavier, Lance, and Raphael. The resemblance was uncanny, and I was shocked that so many beautiful people could be a part of one family.
We navigated conversations about his work, my work, and how we’d met.
“Such a lovely couple,” one elderly woman gushed, squeezing my arm. “When’s your wedding?”
“Oh, we’re not—” I started.
“Soon, I hope,” she continued without hearing my correction. “We’ve been waiting for Christian to find the right woman for years. We’re all so happy he found you.”
My smile became tight and painful. “Excuse me, I need to powder my nose.”
I escaped toward the ladies’ room, but a small voice stopped me halfway there.
“Are you married to Cousin Christian?”
I looked down to see a little girl with braids and a white dress, staring up at me with curiosity.
“I...” My tongue suddenly seemed too big for my mouth. “No, sweetheart. We’re not married.”
“But you’re holding hands and everything. My mommy says when grown-ups hold hands like that, it means they love each other.”
“Sometimes it does.”
“Do you love Cousin Christian?”
“Yes… I do.”
“You don’t sound so sure.”
My eyes widened and suddenly I was hot.
“Jasmine!” A woman approached, scolding the little girl. “Are you bothering Christian’s wife?”
“She’s not his wife,” Jasmine announced. “She said she’s his girlfriend.”
The woman’s eyebrows rose. “Oh. I’m sorry, I assumed just like she did.”
“It’s fine,” I said quickly.
