Ahhh, fuck. That feels good to say it all out loud … from inside my head.
I can’t lie, no matter how frustrated I am about this wedding and how strained my relationship with Mom has been, there’s no denying that she actually looks stunning, you know, apart from the dirty potato factor. I always knew she’d make a gorgeous bride one day. I just never expected, or hoped it to be like this. But if she’s truly happy … which I honestly doubt, then I’ll be happy for her. Or in the very least, try to be.
I try to channel my inner Dory and just keep swimming, but this shit is near impossible. It’s a sham of a wedding and a waste of all these people’s time. This marriage has no foundation, no trust, no real love, and I still stand by the assumption that Orlando is going to tire of Mom at some point and send us packing all the way back to Hope Falls. Besides, they’re already technically married. This whole production is nothing but a show to rub in the faces of those Mom has always been belittled by.
Orlando watches me from the top of the aisle, and I’ve never felt so uncomfortable. His gaze roams over my body in this stupid form-fitting dress. My tits are on full display and every curve of my body can be seen in explicit detail. If this were my high-school prom, maybe I’d be excited about wearing this dress, I might even feel sexy in it, but here and now? Not even a little bit. Orlando’s stare is a prime example of why.
Tanner sits right up front, and the moment I stepped out into the aisle, my eyes found his. A wide, excited grin tore across his face, but the moment he saw just how uncomfortable I felt, his hands balled into tight fists and his lips pressed into a hard line. He doesn’t want to be here either, but there was no way he was going to let me attend this shit alone. Hell, all of our friends are here, their parents included.
I should clarify—anyone with money who lives within comfortable driving limits of Bradford is here.
Still so uncomfortable, my gaze shifts back to Tanner, and I take a shaky breath, loving how he has the ability to calm me with nothing more than his presence. Only a few more steps and I’ll be at the top of the aisle. I’m assuming I have to stand to the side like they do in all the movies but, considering I skipped out on yesterday’s rehearsal, I could be wrong. I can’t say I’ve exactly been to a wedding before.
Three steps to go.
Don’t fall. Don’t fall. Don’t fall.
Two steps.
One.
I made it without turning myself into the laughingstock of Bradford. Bonus.
The music changes and I do my best to force a smile across my face, but even a blind man would be able to see just how uncomfortable I am standing up here. So, I do what any girl would do and focus on the six-foot-four piece of tattooed man meat in the front row. Tanner went all out in a five-piece suit that rivals that of David Beckham at the royal wedding. My gaze roams over his body, taking in the way his shoulders and biceps strain against the designer material. One flex from Tanner would have him busting out of that suit Hulk style, and I fucking love it.
He winks. He fucking winks.
That rat bastard.
Does he want me wet in front of all these people? It’s a silk dress. Does he know nothing? Though, I suppose I can’t blame the guy. I knew what I was getting into when I was getting close to him. He’s an animal, and it wouldn’t be right to hold something against him that he has absolutely no control over. It’s just the way he is, and when it’s just us behind closed doors, that animalistic part of him is one of my favorite traits.
Mom nears the front of the church, and I do what I can to pay attention. After all, it’s one thing looking like the laughingstock of this ridiculous wedding, but it’s another to appear as though I’m not happy for her. I mean, I’m not. I couldn’t be less happy, but I’d look like a complete bitch if anyone in the pews knew that.
Damien walks her down the aisle, doing his part in giving her away, and I bite my lip, forcing myself to keep a straight face. He looks like a penguin with a wedgie in that tux, and judging by the stoic, irritated look on his face, he damn well knows it.
Don’t make eye contact. Don’t make eye contact. Don’t make eye contact.
My big brother looks directly at me, and I lose it. A loud snorting laugh bursts from deep in my throat and my eyes bug out of my head, trying to quickly mask it as a cough, but judging by the wicked stare I receive from Mom, I’m doing a really shitty job at it. Damien smirks. He’d do anything to appear as the golden child, but lately, that wouldn’t be hard.