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She donned a different outfit for the ceremony. Elegant yet uncomplicated. With an elongated tail and veil, the A-shaped, pure cotton-whitegownmanaged to reach the end of the runway.
She was the perfect bride.
How would I have looked if I had been the one getting married to Ronan?
Would he hold me like that if I were his bride instead of her? The way he is holding her hand is like he never wants to let her go. Would he go above and beyond to give me this kind of wedding?
Yes.
That has always been Ronan. He is complicated, no doubt, but he always goes above and beyond for the people he loves, and he loved me at some point. Oh, he did.
I sniff, trying to keep my tears at bay. I should be happy for him.
I return my attention to Ronan and Barbara, who are standing next to a guest who appears to be a bit older than Ronan. His eyes betray an experiencebeyond his years. I bumped into him earlier, but he said nothing and neither did he acknowledge my apology. He shouldn't have this much gray hair for his age, yet he does. He has dark eyes, wears a black suit, and is constantly tinkering with a gold totem on his outfit.
Barbara offers her hand in a handshake, but he waves her off and takes her into a side embrace instead. When he pulls back, she straightens herself and steps away from Ronan and the guest and moves towards the cake with admiration in her eyes.
Barbara loves cake.
I feel Ronan’s eyes on me for a second, but when I turn to look at him, he looks away immediately. I stare at him a little longer, pining for him to turn and stare right back, but he keeps his attention on the guest in front of him.
It is then that I noticesomething strange, a long line of people waiting to go to the restroom.
Is something wrong?
I hear clattering and gasps as I skate past tables and people to get there. I abruptly stop and turn to face the commotion, only to discover that a server has dropped her cupcake tray—her eyes are focused on something.
My eyes widen in shock.
Barbara is on the ground, passed out. God, oh God.
Since I'm closer, I rush across to her, but then I stumble back when I notice that she has a small smear of frosting on her bottom lip and a scoopon her index finger. The wedding cake.
Help me, Lord. Please.
Chapter Four
RONAN
My bride dropping to the floor on our wedding day is certainly unexpected.
Barbara is the most composed person I know, aside from my mother.
“Barbara,” I stroke her cheek tenderly, playing the part of the loving husband.
“It must be the stress,” Damien, the skanky-looking Bratva boss who annoys me more than any living being ever created, gives his unwanted suggestion about the situation.
I breathe and observe Barbara a little longer, then reach out for her pulse. I want to tell everyone that she is fine and just needs to rest.
But my breath catches in my throat.
No pulse.
That’s impossible.
I reach out again, placing two fingers on the left side of her neck. I use one hand to lift her head, resting it on my thigh.
No pulse.
