With his polite, bland mask in place, he smiles and nods at Falk before giving me a bro hug, exchanging pleasantries with no hidden meanings.
His presence will be distraction enough.
He changes into his tux; we straighten each other’s ties, and we each take a few sips of the scotch my father delivered to the room. Walker’s eyes close at the heavy peat scent and soft burn of the liquor. It’s exactly what a wedding day is supposed to look like, even if the three of us are all wound tighter than a garrote.
Another knock comes about an hour before the ceremony begins, the door shoved open before I can tell whoever is on the other side to enter. Trevor strides in wearing a matching tux, his arm free from its sling, the still-healing stumps of his fingers hidden in bougie white gloves. His eyes glint with a secret that I don’t care to dig out of him. “Father says it’s time to mingle,” he announces, not even greeting Walker or me.
I want to fight the order, but I know my role, and it’s exactly this. Distract my father by being perfectly boring, Walker playing the same role by my side. It’s the last thing he’d expect.
We go down to the ballroom, where I shake hands and receive congratulations, not recognizing many of the old men nor the young females on their arms. Trevor smiles and laughs beside me, knowing the name of everyone at my wedding better than I do—these people are his people, my father’s people, not mine.
My only guest is the man standing on my other side, showing the room nothing but a mask of an innocuous man, someone pleasant and empty who’s not worth remembering. The opposite of who he really is.
The only moment the mask drops is when he sees yet another beautiful young woman on the arm of an older man,her purple braids tied up in an elaborate knot on her head, her rich brown skin glowing against the lavender of her gown.
“Do you know her?” I risk whispering.
He shakes his head but doesn’t seem convinced by his own motion. “I don’t think so. But she seems familiar.”
Marking her out as a question for later, I survive the hour of shmoozing until it’s time for the ceremony.
I take my place, and I wait.
Trying not to laugh when at the top of the aisle, Walker steals Mattie from my brother so he’ll have the spot right beside me, I find some of my nerves fading. Summer catches on immediately and takes Trevor’s arm as my not-brother tries to hide his anger. It feels good, light in a way I wasn’t anticipating today. It’s a move I’d expect from Jansen, but not the moody artist on my team.
He wanted to stand beside me, so he made it happen.
Stubborn fucker.
My thoughts stumble to a halt, though, when the orchestra begins the processional. As the gathered crowd stands, I can’t help the squeeze of my lungs.
Because even if this is fake, it’s real—so real that watching Clara descend the stairs into the ballroom leaves my eyes watering, my breath short, my goddamn heart in a vise.
She might be stuck in a starched and demure lace gown, swathed in jewels she’d rather pawn than wear, walking through a crowd of strangers to what could very well be her doom, but she still looks like a goddamn queen.
Beautiful. Regal. Oozing power and grace, the swift shift of her eyes belying a fierce intellect, and the set of her jaw, one of a born fighter.
Gorgeous. Bold.
Mine.
Chapter 54
Clara
It turns out that Summer is an expert at hooking the tiny buttons on my wedding gown, breezing up from my lower back in a quarter of the time it took me to unbutton the thing to slide into it. The makeup and hair people left a while ago, leaving Summer, me, and a silent Mattie to our own devices for the last while before we go downstairs.
I don’t turn to look in the mirror, though. I’m not sure I want to see myself as a society bride.
Summer seems to understand, puttering around me, hooking heavy jewels in my ears and a delicate series of bracelets on one wrist. Lastly, she sets heels meant for a princess before me, and I’ve never felt more like a fraud than jamming my callused runner’s feet into them.
“Are you going to look?” Mattie asks from the other side of the room.
I turn to her, trying to force something like a smile on my face. “I don’t think I want to know.” Tears threaten, and I blink them away, knowing that even waterproof mascara has a limit, and today is going to test it.
I’m glad for my control, as a moment later, the door swings open, no knock in sight.
Trips’ father enters, a smile on his face that could be genuine if I didn’t know better. “I’m so sorry, but could you ladies give me a moment with the bride?”
