“I’m trying to live up to it,” I said. “Like you. You’re trying to see the best in your family. But Emery…”
“I know,” she said, curling into me. “But I’m scared, Xander.”
“Me too.” I stroked her hair. “Me too.”
***
The following Saturday, Orion and I met Emery and Harper at Providence City Hall. Rhode Island had no waiting period for a marriage license. We applied, were approved, and then waited ourturn for a judge to officiate.
Emery wore a simple dress of pale pink, her hair flowing in soft waves around her shoulders. Harper acted as her bridesmaid and witness. Orion stood in for Dean, who would have been my best man. Wracked by grief and guilt, he wouldn’t stop blaming himself for throwing that party. Something had transpired between him and Harper, too, though neither would say what it was, nor even speak to each other. The four of us passed heavy glances around at what had to be the most depressing wedding in a decade.
The officiate didn’t seem to notice. He said in a bored tone, “Do you, Emery, take Alexander Ford to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love and to cherish, all the days of your life?”
Emery’s eyes met mine—blue-green oceans of love and tears. “I do.”
“And do you, Alexander, take Emery Wallace to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love and to cherish, all the days of your life?”
“I do,” I said, and the worst part was, I meant it with all my fucking heart.
We had no rings. No vows beyond the boilerplate language, and soon, it was over.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
We moved closer, and I cupped her face in my hand, her tears spilling down to my fingers. I kissed Emery softly and she returned my kiss, pressing into it urgently before breaking away and crying into my suit jacket.
Back in Castle Hill, she and I drove to my house, where her car waited. It was not yet four in the afternoon. The days were getting longer, the light more golden.
“Do you have to go home?” I asked in a low voice.
“No,” she said. “Not yet.”
We reached for each other at the same time, with the same desperate urgency. Bruising, devouring kisses, hands in hair and tugging at clothing. We made it inside, to my loft, and stripped each othernaked, leaving nothing but the locket around her neck, glinting gold against her skin. We lay down together, and wordlessly, she reached into the nightstand for a condom. She tore it open, then rolled onto her back and put it on me.
“Emery…”
She didn’t say a word but pulled at my shoulders until I was on top of her, then between her legs, then sinking inside her. The tight feel of her around me caused an automatic chain reaction of need—synapses firing and sensations flooding me, erasing my thinking mind.
Emery nodded as if answering some unspoken hesitation and lifted her hips to mine. Christ, she was too beautiful. Too soft beneath me and wanting me; I could feel it in every touch, every breath. Our bodies were entwined,entangled—one responding to the other in an instantaneous give and take. I became delirious with her, and from that delirium, a sudden, primal need began to grow in me. A need to take. To keep. To mark her as mine. Our separation grew more imminent with every passing day, and my love for her was also entangled with a possessive greed. The pain was too much. Too hard to take, and so I took her instead, as if I could impale her to my bed. To shield her with my body from whatever cruel hand wanted to steal her away.
Emery cried out in ecstasy, her exquisite face contorted, riding the crest of the pleasure as if it were agony.
It is agony,I thought brokenly.To lose her…
“Now you,” she breathed.
She melted beneath me. Her eyes glassy and dark and heated with permission to take her until I was spent. My body obeyed. I lost myself in her until I couldn’t hold on any longer. I emptied myself into her, turned myself inside out for her. Only her, this girl I’d loved from afar for seven years and loved right now with everything I had.
For a long while, we stayed locked together, breathing as one. Her fingers were in my hair, her arms wrapped around me, holding me. I felt melded to her so completely that it seemed impossible that wewouldn’t always have this.
This…
This was all I wanted. Her. Eighteen or eighty, I knew I’d never want anyone but Emery.
My wife…
Part V
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
