An uncomfortable silence fell between us, broken only when Ms. Windsor reappeared, looking even more pinched than before.
“Mr. Burkhardt, the guests are arriving. We really should?—”
“Everything proceeds as planned. Start seating them.”
She looked like she wanted to argue but nodded stiffly before walking away, murmuring into her headset.
“I should go check on... something,” I said vaguely, needing a moment alone. “Make sure the guys don’t drink all the champagne before the ceremony,” I added to Chance, who nodded.
I went to a small antechamber off the main pavilion, a room traditionally used by grooms for last-minute preparations. The mirror on the wall reflected a man I barely recognized—still me, but somehow different. Less certain. More vulnerable. Terrified, yes, but somehow more alive than I’d felt in years. In fact, he sort of reminded me of the kid in the bathtub wearing a DIY merman tail. There was hope there standing alongside fear. I hadn’t seen that kid in a long time.
Shaking my head, I pulled out the vows again, scanning the words I’d written. They felt simultaneously too much and not enough. How did you compress a complete worldview shift into a few sentences? How did you explain to someone that they’d fundamentally changed the way you wanted to live your life?
“If love exists anywhere in this world,” I whispered to my reflection, folding the paper carefully, “what I feel for Anica is it. And if I’m wrong about everything else, I’m right about her.”
A sharp knock on the door interrupted my thoughts.
“It’s time,” Chance called. “Everyone’s seated.”
God, how long had I been in that room? It felt like seconds. Had it really been twenty minutes? The nerves I’d felt before tripled in a heartbeat, and I struggled to swallow. What if shedidn’t show? What if I really had lost her for good? I didn’t even care that I was going to look like an idiot. I just…
I just wanted her.
The woman I loved.
I took a deep breath, straightened my jacket one last time, and stepped out.
The Rhodes Estate garden pavilion had been transformed into something from a dream. White chairs lined either side of a center aisle, adorned with small bouquets of blue and white flowers. An archway of twisted branches and more flowers stood at the far end, overlooking the lake that shimmered in the late afternoon sun. The string quartet played softly in the background, and two hundred of New York’s elite sat in expectant silence, their curious glances following me as I took my place at the altar.
Standing there, I nodded to Gram, who sat in the front row. Beside her sat Norbert. What the hell? Why was my grandmother’s butler holding her hand? I raised an eyebrow and she winked at me. On Gram’s other side, Erika sat with her husband and their two kids. She gave me a thumbs up, leaning in to whisper something to her husband.
On the opposite side of the aisle sat people I’d only met that morning. Anica’s family. Mainly her parents. That in itself had been a very,veryawkward encounter. But as I nodded to her father and smiled at her mother, they both gave me reassuring nods, holding each other’s hands. Mari had helped me get in touch with them, and had been there to help introduce me, for which I would be forever grateful, even if she had mentioned I’d railed their daughter with my “extra large package” and stolen her heart. On second thought, maybe it would’ve been better if it had been Devonna making the introductions.
Either way, her father had given me a stern talking to before shaking my hand and pulling me into a bear hug. Someone wassupposed to get him and take him around behind the wall of hedges so that he could walk Anica down the aisle when she arrived. I just hoped he got the chance.
The officiant, a judge I knew from charity functions, had agreed to the unconventional ceremony with minimal explanation. He leaned in close.
“At what point do we begin?” he whispered.
“When she walks in. Until then, we’re waiting,” I said firmly, glancing at my watch. Four o’clock exactly.
“Alright then. We wait.” He nodded.
The minutes ticked by with excruciating slowness. Four-oh-five. Four-ten. The whispers from the assembled guests grew louder, more concerned. I could feel the weight of their stares, their curiosity, their growing certainty that they were witnessing a very public humiliation.
I may as well have brought in the medieval stocks so they could throw rotten food at me. That would’ve been better than standing there.
Four-fifteen.
“Mr. Burkhardt,” the officiant murmured, “perhaps we should?—”
“Five more minutes,” I said, my voice steady despite the growing knot in my stomach. “Then five more after that.”
Chance shifted beside me, placing a supportive hand briefly on my shoulder. Kris and Morgan exchanged glances but remained steadfast, standing behind like guards.
Four-twenty.
The whispers had evolved into open conversations. Someone in the back row stood, perhaps preparing to make a discreet exit. I couldn’t blame them. This was rapidly becoming the social car crash of the season.
