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You hadn’t stopped loving Nick, either.
Needing a minute to collect myself, I let my hands slide down the fabric of my gown and look over at the officiant. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he says.
As I turn to the stairs, Nick takes my hand and helps me navigate the steps. "When do we get to eat?" I ask.
“After we take our wedding photos,” Nick replies.
“You’re taking this marriage thing too far.”
“Oh, no, I’m not. You’re finally my wife. Mrs. Kinsley Pitucco. You’re all mine now.” He plants a kiss on my lips. “Be right back.”
While Nick speaks to the officiant, I head straight for the tall, thin silver table where my favorite wine is waiting for me. A smile spreads across my face. There are four glasses of wine - clearly Wendall's doing. I could hug him right now. I quickly down the first glass and let out a deep sigh.
You can do this, Kinsley.
I glance around at the elegant silver decor in the room, admiring the four oversized crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. It's a perfect blend of sophistication and warmth. I feel at ease.
Grabbing another glass, I bring it to my lips and sip. Wendall peeks in the room. I lift my glass in appreciation.
“Thank you.” I grin.
He nods and walks over, his hands clasped behind his back. His salt and pepper hair is neatly slicked back. He looks to be around fifty years old and is quite easy on the eyes. Standing at about six feet tall, I wonder if he's a gangster who moonlights as a butler.
I can sense my husband’s hulking presence before his hand gingerly presses against the small of my back.
“No food. We’re taking photos now,” Nick bites out.
I ignore Nick. “Wendall, please tell me you have hors d’oeuvres?”
“Yes, we do,” he replies. “I told you the bagel wouldn’t get you through the ceremony.”
“I couldn’t eat that much earlier. I was too nervous. But now I’m starving.”
He offers a smile. “I’ll return shortly.”
Wendall strolls out of the room.
Nick whisks me off to take wedding photos in various areas of the ballroom.
The photographer positions my hands on Nick’s muscled frame to capture the right pose for the camera.
I stare into his eyes as we pose for what feels like photo number sixty. I’m married to Nick Pitucco. The man I was once madly in love with. The man who wasn’t forth coming about who he was. Who was engaged to that bitch.
I break away from Nick. “I’m done with the photos.”
Gathering my elegant wedding gown in my hands, I briskly walk down the dock to the lake and curl my fist against my stomach. The sun beats down on my back and sweat beads at my temples. I had tried so hard to hold it together. Memories of the fight between Norah and me resurface.
She unknowingly killed my unborn child, consumed by her thirst for power and control. Her plan was to torture me and ultimately end my life, but somehow, I survived.
“Fuck,” I yell at the top of my lungs.
“I never wanted this. I never wanted this,” I repeat.
Big strong arms surround me. He peppers soft kisses along my face. “I got you. You're ok. I’ll do everything in my power to protect you.”
“You couldn’t protect me then. And you damn sure can’t protect me now.”
