What I’m stressed about is that he’s not here, and he’s not picking up his phone.
I try to act normal, because we’re ten minutes late now, and Uncle Karl is really big on punctuality, but I can’t help noticing the curious stares, the awkward smiles, the worried grimace on Killian’s face as he whispers into Damen’s ear.
The delay has already been noted, and I know exactly what they’re all thinking. Well, at least those who were present during my embarrassing outing via group videocall.
My chest fills with air when Mother appears at the side entrance of the church, but she doesn’t have any good news and shakes her head before shrugging.
And that’s when it sinks its teeth into me, the same doubt that had me pressing a knife to Dalton’s throat, and my body stiffens, at once cold, as if I was out in the wind, among the snow, not waiting for my groom at the altar.
Remo is one of my groomsmen, but I still flinch when he pats my back from behind. “Runaway groom? Should we get ready for a hunt?” He chuckles. He’s joking. Of course. This is just his way of trying to put me at ease, but the sickly sense of betrayal still rises in my throat.
I need to shake it off, because I trust Dalton. I decided to and I’ll die on this fucking hill if need be. But I need to dosomething, or I’m gonna explode. Whether Dalton dropped his phone in a toilet and is wasting time trying to fish it out, or decided he must have a snackright now(because he gets like that sometimes), I will find him.
I spot my opening by the side door to the church. Aspen is lookingshifty. He’s up to something. He’s looking out of the window, peeking at the door… If Dalton’s late because of a stupid plan of his, I will squeeze the truth out of him.
I know every eye in the church follows me away from the altar, so I keep my head high, acting as if nothing is amiss about my groom’s absence. When Aspen notes my approach, he attempts an escape, but I speed up and take hold of his wrist before he can flee.
When I look up, the faces turned toward us make me feel like I’m an actor giving the performance of his life, and I am not having a serious conversation with the kid in front of all these people.
“May I have a minute of your time, cousin?” I ask and drag him through the door, straight into the frost outside.
“I didn’t do anything,” he protests as soon as I close the door behind us.
“Bullshit. Where is Dalton? What’s going on? Please don’t tell me you ordered a flock of crows to be released or something equally ridiculous, and now he’s sorting out your mess.”
Aspen raises his hands in defeat, but I expect nothing good from the little smirk on his face. “Okay, okay, it’s not crows, but I do maybe possibly know what he’s doing, and there might be some holdup with that…”
There is a ‘but’ here, and I don’t like it.
“What do you want?”
Aspen grins wider, the glint in his eyes like flames straight from hell. “I just want an answer to a question, so I can settle a bet.”
“What?”
“Which of you bottoms?”
“Why are you so damn obsessed with this?” I ask, scowling, but when I look at his dumb teen face, it dawns on me that I don’t really care. My sexuality is none of Aspen’s business, but I also don’t have anything to be embarrassed about. Dalton and I do what brings us pleasure. What makes us happy. And right now, Aspen is wasting my time.
“Me. There, satisfied? Will you now tell me where I can find my husband?”
Aspen’s mouth hangs open for a moment, and as he stares at me I expect a stupid comment instead of an answer I need, but it doesn’t come. Maybe he doesn’t have a death wish after all.
He clears his throat. “It’s supposed to be a surprise, so don’t tell him I told you, but I have connections with these firework people—”
Of course he does. “What’s that have to do with Dalton?”
“So we arranged a firework show for when you walk out of the church, and I think they arrived, but Dalton should have paid them, confirmed, and come back…”
“Show me where they are,” I tell him, stepping from the relative peace of the niche by the entrance and into the cold wind. It’s now completely dark, and unless we start the ceremony soon, the reception will be delayed too!
“It’s cold!” Aspen complains. “Should we get back to grab our jacke—”
“No. Let’s go.” I shove him forward and he’s finally moving.
“But I’ve got my gun in my jacket,” he whispers and I make a mental note to talk to Roger about sending Aspen to some gun safety training, because who fucking knows where his jacket is. And it has a loaded gun in it? What if a child finds it?
While it’s sweet that Dalton wanted to surprise me, I’m more stressed by the second, and even as I walk, I text Uncle Roger to make sure he has Aspen’s jacket. Do I not have enough things to worry about?
