The priest starts speaking but I don’t hear what he’s saying. All I can focus on is Frankie’s face. He’s calm, but in his eyes, there’s something else I can see. Guilt? Regret? Maybe I’m just wishful thinking. Honestly, I don’t even care. The more I replay our interactions, the worse I feel. Anger doesn’t even come close to what is stirring inside of me. There’s a hurricane brewing, just waiting to be unleashed. Every good memory of him has been poisoned by this moment. My fists clench at my sides. For a second, I imagine running.
I could do it. I could run.
But I refuse to give him the satisfaction. So instead, I pull myself together. The scriptures being read are a blur but I stand there anyways. I answer the priest’s questions verbatim.
“Have you come here freely and without coercion, freely and wholeheartedly?
“I have.”
‘Bullshit.’
“Are you prepared, as you follow the path of marriage, to love and to honor each other for as long as you both shall live?”
“I am.”
‘I might kill him, though.’
“Are you prepared to accept children lovingly from Godand to bring them up according to the law of Christ and his Church?
“I am.”
‘I’ll chop it off if he comes anywhere near me.’
Before I know it, a ring is being slid onto my finger and I’m handed one to slide on his.
“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”
“Amen.”
It’s just one word, but I force it out steadily. I don’t even flinch as he lifts my veil and slowly reveals my face. I see the uncertainty in his eyes when he notices my anger. He’s never seen me like this. Hell, I’ve never seen me like this. He pulls me towards him and my body betrays me as it molds into his perfectly. I scowl, internally kicking myself.
“Forgive me, Datura,” he whispers, so low only I can hear. Then he kisses me hard, not giving me a chance to respond. Not that I would.
Applause explodes around us. Everyone else in here is excited and yet, all I can think about is revenge. How badly I want to make him pay for what he’s done to me. He played me, and for what? I’m not even sure.
We both turn and walk back down the aisle together. He keeps his arm laced with mine tightly. He thinks I want to run. No, I don’t.
‘I’m going to make him miserable,’I think to myself, a smile plastered on my face.‘He’s going to regret ever crossing me.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
Liana
The wedding reception feels more like a funeral. Well…to me at least. To everyone else around me, I maintain the face of an excited bride. They would never know inside my blood is boiling. They wouldn’t have known how badly I wanted to slap the smug look off of Rio’s face as we stood at the altar together. They wouldn’t have known how fake the white of my dress was, that my innocence was lost long before today…and to my husband no less.
‘Dear God, how could I be so naive?’
I look around and take in the expensive ballroom that has been rented for this occasion. Every surface gleams so shiny it feels almost blinding and every glass clinks with a sound so sharp it could shatter my eardrums. I’m overstimulated, I know it, and I’m slowly suffocating. Guests around me fling their arms in wild, sloshing toasts. They’re already drunk off the expensive liquor, their voices rising with each new song. For them, it’s a party but for me…it’s a stage. My mask doesn’t slip, not once. My cousin Andre would be proud if he knew the inner turmoil battling inside me. I want to scream, but I won’t. So I make my rounds, my smile locked in place as I collect congratulations and well-wishes like I’m built for this, like wearing “Mrs. Sanchez” around my neck isn’t so heavy I could choke on it…if I don’t choke him first.
My body moves automatically as I talk myself into each act.
‘Accept the congratulations, murmur your thanks, bow your head just enough, step onto the dance floor when summoned…‘
I go through the motions like a robot. Rio tries to catch my eye multiple times but I turn away before his gaze touches me. I’m effectively trying to ignore him. Keyword…trying, because when I think it’s safe, I stare him down, taking in every hard ridge of his face and body. I can’t help it. Even with anger scraping raw at my nerves, I still want him. God, I want to hate him too, but that doesn’t matter. Both feelings coexist within me.
He makes several attempts to pull me aside into some empty space to talk but I keep myself distant, always shifting away easily. Until we have our first dance as husband and wife…
Rio’s hand extends towards me with a mix of determination and something else I can't name in his eyes.
