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The dress, which had once felt so right, seems too tight for my body. I should sidle away so I'm no longer in the center of this shit show; only, my legs refuse to obey me.
“I am so sorry, Vivian,” Stan whispers.
For some reason, the sympathy in his voice is my undoing. Tears squeeze out of the corners of my eyes, and I brush at my cheeks. Why am I crying? This is so stupid. Why do I feel like I’ve really been ditched at the altar? Because you were ditched at the altar?
Only, I didn’t love Felix, and I’m grateful he didn’t turn up. So why do I feel so wretched? I should get out of here and hide my face; pretend I wasn’t subjected to the single most mortifying moment in my life, but… Nope, my feet seem to be cemented to the ground.
I lower my chin and stare at the floor, when someone steps up to stand in front of me. Someone who has big feet, going by the size of the polished black formal shoes he’s wearing, and who can afford a tailor, as evidenced by the pants that cling to his powerful thighs. Also, that bulge between those thighs which hints that he’s not lacking in that department at all. Huh? I have no business noticing a stranger’s junk, when I’ve just been dumped by my bridegroom—who you didn’t want to marry. One who left me stranded in front of this crowd.
That’s when I realize, the murmuring and shuffling around me has faded away. Silence surrounds me. My heart rate spikes. The hair on the back of my neck rises, and when I draw in a breath, I smell woodsmoke, pine and wild open spaces. I know it’s him, even before I raise my gaze to his chest and realize it’s so wide, it blocks out the sight of everything else. I know it’s the man I saw in the pews as I walked up the aisle before I tilt my head back, then further back, until I meet those silver-blue eyes. I’m almost not surprised it’s him; not at all.
When our gazes met earlier, I knew I was going to see him again… There was this connection that almost stopped me in my tracks. But I pushed it aside and, feeling a sense of obligation, I continued forward toward my non-existent bridegroom.
Of course, it would have to be like this. A sense of destiny settles around my shoulders. And when the stranger leans in and lifts up my veil, I don’t flinch or protest. A gasp runs through the crowd, but I ignore it. My gaze is caught and held by this enigmatic man who something in me recognizes.
It’s him. Him. Him. My blood sings in my veins. Electricity fires up my nerve-endings. He’s the reason it felt wrong with Felix. He’s the reason I knew marrying Felix was wrong. But I never thought I’d meet him; not in this lifetime. It’s why I almost married Felix. Thank God, he pulled out.
Some of my thoughts must be reflected on my features, for there’s an answering flash in his eyes. His jaw firms. He seems to come to a decision because he lowers his hand to his side, then drops to one knee.
My gaze widens. My pulse rate spikes. What’s he doing? He can’t be. No. No. Way. He looks up again and locks his gaze on mine.
I see the question in his eyes and know what my answer is before he growls, "Marry me."
Another gasp runs through the crowd. It fades away, and then there’s silence. The blood pounds at my temples. My heart seems to swell until I’m one thump from exploding into a ball of smoke—poof—I’ll be gone. No one will know I’m here. No one will pass judgement on me. No one need know I almost agreed to marry him in church when he proposed because I'm so attracted to him.
I open my mouth to whisper my assent but what comes out is, "It’s often impossible to hum while holding your nose."
The man blinks slowly.
"Also, most people find it impossible to lick their own elbow." I nod, then wince. This is when he stares at me like I’m crazy, like so many others have when I begin to spout weird facts in a bid to cover up my nervousness.
I begin to turn away, when that stern mouth of his twitches. "Is that right?"
Did he smile? He almost smiled. What if I could make him smile for real?
"It’s physically impossible for pigs to look up into the sky." I peer at him from under my eyelashes.
One side of his lip lifts. His eyes light up with amusement. Yes! I resist the urge to fist pump.
"And you must be aware, I can’t say yes to you…" no matter how much I am tempted. Spouting that inane trivia bought me a little time, and I realize now, even contemplating marrying him is insane. I don’t know him. And he’s much older than me. Nope, it’s wishful thinking that he’s my knight in shining armor come to rescue me from this horrible situation.
"Why?" His gaze grows intense. “Why can’t you say yes?” The silver in his eyes flares. Everything else around me fades. My senses light up as my vision focuses on him. All I can see is his features. Him.
Also, that’s a good question. Why can’t I marry you, even though every cell in my body insists I should? And my instincts scream I should do the right thing, ignore how it seems to the world, and follow what feels right for me.
I clear my throat. "Firstly, there’s the fact that I don’t know you.”
"That can be rectified." His voice is confident.
I gape at him, then begin to laugh. “You can’t be serious,” I say between gasping breaths.
“I never joke,” he says with such vehemence, I know for a fact, he’s telling the truth. I want to say something about how he could do with some laughs in his life, but who am I to say anything when my entire life has turned into the stuff of party conversations?
My own laughter dies. I stare at him, and he peruses my features with an intensity I’ve never been subjected to before. An intensity which turns my nipples into pinpoints of desire, and causes my belly to flutter, and my pussy to clench in on itself.
How am I so drawn to him? I should be crushed my bridegroom did a runner. Instead, all I can think of is how much I want this stranger. This is wrong, no matter which way I look at it. Something of my resolve must reflect on my face for he nods, then straightens to stand back up.
Once more, I have to tilt my head back to see his face. Once more, I’m struck by how tall he is. How broad, how big and solid and dependable. How he invites trust. How... He’d never leave me stranded at the altar... How he definitely would not break up with me through a text message sent to his best man.
