And beside him, Julien. His best man. His older brother.
Where Cameron is sunshine and handsome, Julien is shadow and… devastating.
Dark brown hair, longer on top. A neatly trimmed beard frames his strong jaw and full lips. Broad shoulders filling out his suit in a way that suggests power held in careful check.
His dark and intense eyes are on me. Not with the warm look a soon-to-be brother-in-law should give a bride. Something harder. Assessing. Judging.
I force my gaze back to Cameron. On the man I’m supposed to want.
Chin up. Shoulders back.
I’ve spent years learning how to be invisible while standing in plain sight.
I can survive one more day of it.
Father and I reach the altar, and he releases me with a firm nod toward Rosa, Cameron’s grandmother, which means business is concluded.
I step forward to stand opposite my groom, bouquet clutched in sweaty hands. Up close, I can see the tension on Cameron’s face, the slight pallor beneath his tan.
“Hi,” he whispers, so soft only I can hear.
“Hi,” I whisper back.
Behind him, Julien shifts his weight, his gaze still burning into me. I already got the message. He hates me. What more does he want?
The reverend begins to speak, his voice resonating through the church. Words about love and commitment that sound hollow in the space between Cameron and me.
I focus on his face, trying to imagine waking up to it every morning. Trying to feel anything beyond the polite appreciation of his objective attractiveness.
This is for Amelia. This is the one thing I can do to help her.
“If anyone can show just cause why this couple cannot lawfully be joined together in matrimony, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”
The traditional pause lengthens uncomfortably. Someone coughs in the back pews. My heart pounds against my ribs like it’s trying to escape.
“Cameron Richard Mora, do you take Dakota Levine to be your lawfully wedded wife? Do you promise to love, honor, and cherish her, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, as long as you both shall live?”
Cameron takes one of my hands, and I squeeze back. We can do this. We can get through this ceremony, and afterward, we’ll figure out how to make this arrangement work.
We were friends once. We can be friends again.
The silence stretches, grows teeth.
“Cameron?” the reverend prompts.
“I…” His eyes, wide and pained, lock with mine.
Something’s wrong.
“Cameron,” the reverend says again, his voice dropping lower.
From somewhere in the crowd, a woman’s voice calls out, “Cam!”
Every head turns. A woman moves into the middle of the aisle. Beautiful, tall, athletic with blonde, shoulder-length hair, and not dressed for the occasion in casual jeans, a white t-shirt, and a brown leather jacket. Her blue eyes are fixed on Cameron, her expression a mix of desperation and determination.
Don’t tell me.
Cameron turns, his face transforming at the sight of her. “Sienna.”
