Running away from a sham of a marriage meant to ensure I can keep playing football.
"Uh, Xavier, do you take, um, Ophelia to be your lawfully wedded wife? In good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, until parted by death?"
I finally hear his words but feel as if there's a large wad of cotton in my throat.
This is bloody ridiculous. I can't go through with this.
Judge Mahoney coughs.
Ophelia is staring at me, her eyes wide and huge. I see her head nod ever so slightly. In for a penny, in for a pound.
"Right. Yes. I do. Of course."
When it's her turn for vows, I know I should maintain eye contact, but I can't seem to keep my gaze from wandering around the room. Though this has all moved faster than a forward with only one defenseman to get by, it doesn't make the situation any less serious. Philip was right. I've sacrificed so much for this sport. To feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins when I'm on the field. To push my body to the point of breaking—and beyond. To win.
And now simply, to play.
Softly, I hear Ophelia say, "I do."
Finally, I meet her gaze. Her eyes, which are normally sparkling and full of life, seem listless and dull.
This is a terrible mistake. I shouldn't make her do this.
"Then by the power vested in me by the state of Massachusetts, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."
Bollocks.
Chapter 27: Ophelia
It would not be romantic if I vomited on Xavier as he leans in to kiss me.
On the other hand, there is nothing about this that is romantic. Despite the pretty dress and the flowers, this is about as romantic as dental work.
Hell, at least at the dentist, there is physical contact.
I'm not saying I want Xavier to touch me—though I might not be opposed—but there should be touching at a wedding. Or at least after.
And now we're supposed to kiss? Other than a few brief hand grabs to pull me along, we've never even hugged. I'm definitely more intimate with my dental hygienist.
This is not like any wedding I've ever imagined. No music. No family. No love. No march down the aisle or something old, something new. I mean, I guess I did borrow my dress, and his eyes are blue, a lighter shade than my own. My grandmother's ring covers the old and—hey, wait a minute!
"Hey, where's my ring?" I blurt as soon as the thought pops into my brain. If he lost it, I'm going to be livid.
"Oh, right. Right." Xavier frantically begins patting his chest. He reaches inside his breast pocket and pulls out a small burgundy box.
Where the hell did he get a ring box from?
But then he opens it. I see my grandmother's ring, sparkling in a way I didn't know possible, surrounded by a wrap of blue sapphires. They look like they were made to go together.
Immediately my eyes fill up. He takes them out of the box and looks around. The rings are in one hand, the box in his other, and there's no one to help him out. He tosses the box on the floor so he can use both hands. My left hand is shaking as I hold it out to him. Xavier slides the rings on my fourth finger.
It feels foreign, as I've always reserved that digit forthe one.
"How did you? When did you? I—"
"Are you two going to kiss or talk all day? Fine, do whatever. You're married." Judge Mahoney turns away and begins to pack up his papers.
Quickly, Xavier leans forward, his hands still holding mine, and gives me the briefest, lightest of kisses on my lips. Just as fast, he straightens.
