Inever expected my bride to be crying on our wedding day.
The problem is: I’m a little tipsy. I had a few beers before coming here, just to take the edge off, and now I’m regretting it because I’m finding it hard to stay upright. Ok. So maybe I had more than a few beers. I might have gotten drunk.
My father was pissed at me and forced me to take a cold shower to take the edge off. He forced down coffee and anything else that would help soak up the alcohol in me.
Natasha, to her credit, is very beautiful. I had been expecting a plain woman – or at worse someone ugly. But Natasha is pretty with golden hair and freckles that are cute. She looks likesomething out of a fairytale. How has this woman been kept locked away all her life? It doesn’t make sense.
But now she’s crying and I have no fucking clue how to deal with this.
The priest opens and closes his mouth, just as unsure as I am.
I look over at my father, who mouths ‘do something’to me. Do what? I’ve never comforted a crying woman before. The women I’ve spent time with in the past have always been smiling. Mostly that’s because we were fucking and having fun.
This moment is most decidedly not fun.
“Uh… Natasha?” I ask. I wince when I realize how slurred my words sound. I really did drink more than I should have. This day is important. We’re trying to stop a war from happening. I should never have gotten drunk right before this.
Natasha only cries harder.
Her father storms over to her side and says something in her ear. Something that even I can’t hear. Then he sits back down and looks at her like he expects her to listen.
Natasha slowly gets control of her tears but even after she stops crying, she doesn’t look happy. I guess neither one of us wants to be here. Thank god. I was worried that Natasha would be happy about this day and I would disappoint her. But the fact that she doesn’t want this either means she won’t care that I’m drunk. Less chance of fucking this up.
“Are you… ok?” I ask. Even though I don’t want this marriage, I’m not going to be a complete ass to Natasha. Neither one of us wants this.
“Fine,” she replies in a clipped tone. “Let’s get this over with.”
I frown. I said that just a moment ago. I hadn’t realized she heard me.
The priest hesitates before I nod and he begins the ceremony. I stare down at Natasha, trying to get a read on her but since I’m meeting her for the first time, I know nothing about her.
“Do you, Maksim Petrov, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
The question hits me in the gut. The urge to say ‘no’ is on my lips but I know I have to do this. Lev is looking at me like he might kill me if I don’t marry his daughter. Hell, my own father is giving me the same look.
Kira gives me an encouraging nod, even though she knows I don’t want this.
Fine. Here goes nothing.
“I do,” I say.
Natasha gasps and looks at me more closely, like she didn’t expect me to say that. I try to offer her a smile but I’m not sure it comes out right. Being drunk right now is not helping.
“And do you, Natasha Sokolov, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
Slowly, she nods. “I do.” I can barely hear her from how quiet she speaks.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss.”
But neither me nor Natasha move to do that. There’s an awkward beat where the guests chuckle. My father motions at me to kiss Natasha. I have to do this.
I cup her face and she looks up at me with big, innocent eyes. I’m just lucky she’s pretty.
Bending down, I give her a peck on the lips before pulling back. Natasha’s expression is unreadable.
Our guests cheer for us. Have of them are Lev’s people – who were once the enemy but now we’re all friends. This marriage confirms that.
I take Natasha’s hand and we walk out of the chapel together as our guests clap for us, when this not a happy affair for either me or Natasha.
