We walked to the ceremony site. The chapel had been transformed into a white dreamscape. Anthea's beloved dahlias filled every corner. Sunlight broke through thin clouds, bathing everything in warm gold.
The guests were already seated. Anthea's mother sat in the front row, already dabbing at her eyes. Sarah perched beside her, excitedly chattering to those nearby. Marcus had shown up too, looking stiff in formal wear.
I stood at the altar waiting for Anthea to appear, heart hammering so hard I thought it might burst from my ribs.
When the music started, everyone turned. Then I saw her.
She walked down the aisle on her father's arm, emerging from beneath the flower arch. My breath stopped.
Anthea wore white, the train flowing behind her like liquidmoonlight. A thin veil covered her face. Sunlight caught on her, making her look like an angel descended to earth.
My eyes stung.
She moved slowly, each step in time with the music. When she reached me, her father's expression was complicated. I knew he hadn't fully forgiven me. How could he? I'd hurt his daughter.
"Take care of my girl," he said, voice low. "Cherish her."
I met his gaze head-on.
"I swear it." My words were steel. "I'll spend the rest of my life making up for what I did to Anthea."
His eyes held mine for several seconds. Finally, he nodded. He released Anthea's hand and placed it in mine.
Anthea looked up at me through the veil.
"Your eyes are red," she whispered, lips quirking with mischief.
I didn't deny it. Just gripped her hand tighter.
The priest began. "Silas Thorne, do you take Anthea Carter to be your wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, until death do you part?"
"I do." The words came out firm.
"Anthea Carter, do you take Silas Thorne to be your husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, until death do you part?"
She looked at me, amber eyes bright with tears. "I do."
I reached up and lifted the veil from her face. Tear tracks streaked her cheeks, but her smile blazed.
"You may kiss the bride," the priest said.
I lowered my head and kissed her softly. Applause and cheers erupted around us, but I heard nothing. Only felt her lips. Her breath.
From today on, she was my wife.
Anthea
The reception was held in the chapel's banquet hall.
Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead, white light spilling intoevery corner. A band played cheerful tunes in one corner while guests clustered in small groups, champagne in hand.
Silas and I sat at the main table. His hand never left mine—warm, solid. I looked down at our joined hands and smiled. This was real. I'd actually married him.
Pavel, as best man, stood and walked to the stage with his glass.
"Everyone, I know you're waiting to hear what I have to say." He grinned, voice booming. "After all, any woman who could get Silas Thorne to marry must be something special."
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
