Page 49 of Devious Vows

“For the first time in my life, I wish I were someone else. I wish I were you.” Normally, I’d never admit such a thing, especially to her, but this isn’t a normal situation. This is me laying it out for the devil herself, pleading with her not to snatch what should be mine from me. I swallow, angrily wiping at a lone tear that escaped. “That man that you see as a way to climb the social ladder, to live out your perfect trophy wife life, is my fucking soul. Knowing that I can’t have him when you do, watching him be with you when he should be with me, is physically painful. It makes me sick.”

Her arms cross over her chest but she doesn’t stop me, her eyes running along the tears now tracking down my cheeks.

“He’s held my heart behind his ribs for as long as I can remember, I was just too stupid to see it until it was too late. It has always been his. He is it for me, Viva. You’re taking away the one person I can and will ever love, and even though I know we can’t stop it, or that you wouldn’t even try to, I just want you to know that.” I don’t know why I want her to know, but I do. Maybe then she’ll realize what she’s got.

That who she’s got is the most amazing person she could ever have wished for.

Her blonde curls lift around her shoulders in the breeze, the sun shining on her golden head like a halo. “It’s time to move on and grow up, Beverly.” Her voice is soft to match her picturesque appearance, but her words taste like bile in the back of my throat. “Don’t worry about coming to the garden, you can just go home since you’re not feeling the festivities. We’ll see you at the wedding.”

She turns in a pillow of perfectly styled chiffon and lace, her heels crunching on the gravel as she walks away from me and my bleeding heart.

Chapter Twenty-One

I woke up this morning with one goal in mind: don’t be that girl. Don’t be the girl who cries at the wedding. Don’t be the girl who shows up in a white gown. Don’t be the girl who lets her jealousy and hurt rule her actions.Don’t be that girl.The moment I stepped into my bridesmaid dress, I crossed at least one of those off of my list.

Part of me, the desperate, delusional part, thought this day wouldn’t come. Even as I watched Remy kiss the back of Viva’s hand at the recital dinner or when Viva kissed him before they parted ways in preparation for today. My heart refused to think that we’d actually be here watching as Chelsea helps Viva adjust the tiara in her hair and Becca fusses over the train of her dress. Until this very moment, this was just a distant nightmare.

One I’m now living.

There’s a knock on the door and I pinch my lips together, knowing I can’t hide from the crowd any longer. Chelsea, Becca, and Anna giggle as they get in line behind the flower girl, and I follow suit, chest tightening with every passing second. Remy is going to be standing out there, waiting for Viva, and I don’t want to see it. I don’t want that image ingrained into my mind. The door opens and the breath I didn’t realize I was holding squeezes out of my tight throat. I hear the change in music, watch as the flower girl starts down the aisle.

I hate the march we have to do. Hate that it’s going to drag this out. Chelsea starts and I have a moment of panic. A brief second where I contemplate on just running out of here. A runaway bridesmaid who was jealous of the bride. The decision is made for me when one of the wedding planners lightly grabs my elbow, pushing me forward.

I move on autopilot, heart in my throat, and I watch the flower girl’s lilies, the ones I picked out for my wedding, fall to the ground. I can’t see her, but I can see the flowers, and I put all my attention on them as I try to keep it together.

Don’t be the girl who cries at the wedding.

There’s a laugh, masked by a cough, and I look up, eyes landing on a smiling Donatello next to Andrea, who looks unamused at whatever happened. One at a time they catch my gaze, sending silent reassurance as I get closer and closer to being face-to-face with Remy. I’ll only be in front of him for a second, but if last night’s rehearsal proved anything, it’s that even a fraction of that second will be too long.

Too painful.

My hands tighten almost painfully around my bouquet as Anna leaves the spot in front of me to go stand on the left side of the altar. I wasn’t paying enough attention to realize we were this close and my eyes land straight on Remy. My chin wobbles almost immediately but I bite my lip to hide it, heart screaming in my ears as I quickly look away, turning to take my spot at the end of the line.

I barely saw him but I memorized every detail. How his suit was perfectly tailored to fit the width of his chest, how the light gray made the black of his tattoos stand out on his skin, the way his eyes burned along my body when I didn’t meet his gaze.

The string quartets start the beginning of Pachelbel’s “Canon in D” and I look toward the start of the aisle. Using it as a distraction, even though it’s almost just as painful.

This should have been me.

“…So beautiful… Stunning… Her dress is absolutely gorgeous…”

She does look beautiful. Her dress is gorgeous. Her long, golden hair is looped and braided down her back, a small glittering tiara sitting atop her head. She smiles and waves to her family members as she does her little march, her long train dragging behind and gathering the white and pale pink lily heads that are scattered along the floor from the flower girl. Everything about this wedding is picturesque perfection right down to the bride herself. I can’t help but wonder if Remy thinks the same thing. If he’s watching Viva right now and thinking how perfect she is. I don’t dare look, no matter how badly I want to, I know whatever I see on his face won’t be what I want and I need to stick to my goal.

Don’t be the girl who cries at the wedding.

Viva stops to hand her bouquet to Chelsea, and I shift my gaze to the flowers instead of watching her stand across from Remy. My chest tightens as the music grows quiet, throat working to dissolve the growing lump. I tune out the priest as he speaks up, mentally blocking out the sound. It’s easy enough to do until Remy’s baritone rumbles two little words from his chest, the gravel of it sitting like stones in the pit of my stomach.

“I do.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, eyes never leaving the bouquet, hands clutching my own flowers.

“You may kiss the bride.”

I know I shouldn’t look, I know that, but I must be a glutton for pain because I have to. Remy’s eyes meet mine for only a second, but it feels like a lifetime. I almost wish he could read me like Julian can, that he could see the tear he’s created in my heart, that he could know with just this one look how much I fucking love him. I never even said it. It took me so long to figure it out that he never even got to hear the words leave my mouth. Something about that feels extra cruel in the grand scheme of things because now I can never tell him. And he’s not Julian so he has no idea what I’m trying to say with just my gaze. No, all he sees is one of the world’s worst bridesmaids fighting her own breaths to keep from crying.

The only sound I can hear is the loud thumping of my heart in my ears as I watch his hand slide over her cheek like he’s done with me so many times, his arm blocking their faces from the crowd as he lowers his face to meet her waiting lips. His honey gaze leaves my face at the last moment, hidden from me behind Viva’s head. My vision starts to blur and I drop my gaze to the flowers in my hands, sucking my lip between my teeth to hide the slight tremble. The room fills with cheers and hoots and I turn my face to the side to hide the tear that I couldn’t keep in, using my shoulder to wipe it from my cheek.

Anna turns to look at me, smiling and clapping as the newlyweds start down the aisle, fingers linked as they smile and nod at the crowd. Her smile dips just a bit when she sees my face. “Are you okay?”

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