“Stella, my life is not a romance book, and I am certainly not cut out to be a heroine.”
She rolls her eyes. “That’s what they all say.”
Chapter Fourteen
Darcy
Eminem’s lyrics about sweaty palms and weak knees echo through my brain. I don’t make a habit of listening to the rapper, but his early stuff hit me in the soul more times than I care to admit. Even privileged rich kids go through hard things.
It’s not real, chill out, Darcy.
However, the rows of chairs with sunshine yellow bows tied around them, the same yellow color aisle runner, yellow and white roses along the aisle, and the swarm of rabid press outside of this old, echoey cathedral creates a concrete feeling to this wedding. I try to imagine every chair with a human sitting on it as I stand at the altar and suddenly want to vomit.
You stand in front of crowds all the time. This is no different. Imagine it’s a rally.
But the pep talk isn’t working. And this is not a rally. It’s a wedding.
My wedding.
Hayden Bennett will be my wife in three hours. We will say sacred words standing in this very spot with the sunlight shining in through the stained-glass windows that boast images of saints.
With all the yellow, it’s as if Ophelia was in the room today. It was her favorite color, and the thought of her spirit in this room makes me want to shout at the sky, demanding a reason as to why nine-year-olds have to die.
A clearing throat shakes me from my momentary raging stupor.
“Sir, I know it’s your wedding day, but can you take a quick look over these papers and sign?”
I side-eye my assistant but relent. It’s all a ruse, so what’s the point in celebrating the occasion? “Hand them over.” I take the papers and skim while returning to my dressing room. As soon as I close the door to the room, the papers are snatched from my hand.
“It is your wedding day, Darcy-kun. What are you doing reading papers about,” Ren looks over the front paper he grabbed, “campaign finances?”
I snatch the papers back. “Because it’s not a real wedding.”
“You are exchanging rings and saying ‘I do’ in front of people and God. This is as real as it gets, my man.” Ren claps me on the shoulder, and I finally glance his way. My first thought is how nice he looks in his all-black Italian suit, and my second thought is that though he looks good, yellow is not his color; he should burn the tie after this occasion. My third thought is that he is right.
Regardless of my feeble attempts to downplay this wedding, it is a real wedding. My heart may not be in it, and Hayden may not love me (nor I her), but the papers are real. Our signatures on themarriage license are real. God overseeing us standing at the altar is real.
And now the thought of lying to everyone makes me sick.
The press has been hard on me and Hayden. Public opinion of this impromptu engagement is low. Sure, some people are rallying behind our “romance,” but the majority are calling bull. Hayden and I have to do one heck of a job selling our love today. All eyes are on us.
“God, what am I doing?” I bury my face in my hands, guilt clawing at my throat. My yellow necktie feels a little too tight, so I pull the knot loose a fraction.
“What you need to do to win this election.” Ren pauses. “You never know… You may end up falling head over Italian-leather Oxford boots for the woman.”
I glare at Ren. “You’re not God. I was asking Him.”
He smirks, then gives my face a harder-than-usual smack. “No, but I am your best friend. And as your best friend, I bet you’ll fall for her.”
Fire consumes the previous guilt. “I don’t know how anyone could fall in love with Hayden Bennett. She’s boisterous and clumsy, is always swarming around like an annoying gnat, smiles way too much, and has a hidden Machiavellian complex to her, which is why I hired her, but that doesn’t make her lovable.”
Ren laughs. “As if you aren’t the quiet schemer and plotter yourself, Darcy-kun. You two are a match made in heaven. You’ll see it one day. You will wake up and realize you married the woman of your dreams without ever realizing it.”
“No, I won’t,” I say through clenched teeth, though something inside me is fighting that resistance. Hard. Because I do want to smile when Hayden smiles these days. And her boisterousness hasn’t gotten under my skin like it used to. I release my breath. “Can you stop now and help me get ready for this stupid wedding?”
“I will stop. But remember my words and don’t take too long to realize you love her, or she will move on.” Ren tosses a comb in my direction. “Now do something with that hair.”
Three hours later, I’m standing at the altar with a yellow boutonniere pinned to my black tux wondering where the hours had gone. It’s all a massive blur; the only feelings associated with the past hours are sickness, guilt, and confusion.
