Our fathers follow us.
“Good,” Lev says. “You’re married now. This pact is binding. Do not hurt my daughter.”
I can only nod.
My father turns to me. “Make me proud, Maksim.”
“Yes,” I reply because what else is there to say?
The two men walk away, chatting with each other, leaving me and Natasha alone. Our other guests begin to spill out of the chapel.
“So, you didn’t want this either, huh?” I ask.
Natasha startles. “What?” Once again, she speaks so softly, it’s hard to hear her.
“You didn’t want this. Judging from your tears. But it’s ok. I didn’t want this marriage to happen either. We have that in common at least.”
She pulls her hand from mine. “Oh. Ok.” Why does she sound disappointed by this? It’s a good thing we have this common. We can bond over it. But Natasha only seems more withdrawn and sad.
“I’m sorry that I’m… a little tipsy,” I admit. “I had to do something to help. You know?”
“You were drinking?”
“Yes. Like I said. I’m sorry about that.”
“Oh. Ok.” She doesn’t say anything more. God, she’s hard to read. The only thing that is obvious is that she’s sad but I don’t know anything else.
“Right,” I say slowly. “We should probably head to the reception.” I nod at the hotel next to the chapel. “All our guests are going over there now. I think our fathers will expect us to be there.” I rub the back of my neck when she doesn’t say a word. I normally never have a problem talking with women. I can charm the panties off them within minutes.
But not the woman I’m married to.
“Your father seems just as stern as mine is,” I say. “Another thing we have in common.”
That finally breaks her out of her shell and she looks up at me. “Your father is stern?”
“Yes. A hard ass. Yours?”
Instead of agreeing with me, she quickly shakes her head. “My father is a good man. I’m not going to talk bad about him.”
My mouth drops open. “Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
She ducks her chin again and refuses to look me in the eye. What is wrong with this girl?
“Are you ok?” I ask. “I mean, you cried in there. Why?”
“It’s nothing. Just nerves. Overwhelmed. We should go to the reception now. We have to make an appearance.” She begins walking without looking back at me.
I quickly catch up to her and we walk side by side as if we’ve been together for years when we’ve only just met today. There’s an icy chill between us though, like a large cavern I don’t know how to cross.
Our guests cheer for us when we enter the hotel’s ballroom where the reception is. It’s been beautifully decorated and the nice thing is I didn’t have to do a thing.
“Nice job on the decorations,” I tell her. “My father said you planned the wedding. Thanks for that.”
“I didn’t plan it. My father did.”
“Oh. My mistake. Well, he did a good job. But hey, at least neither one of us had to plan a wedding we didn’t want. Right?”
Her frown deepens. “I would have liked to have planned my own wedding.”
