“I do,” I say while not breaking Rosalie’s gaze. I slide the ring onto her finger slowly. It fits perfectly. A gold band with soft swirls of etching along the outside.
“Do you, Rosalie Fiorelli, take Alessio Dresvanni to be your lawfully wedded husband?” the judge asks her.
Rosalie hesitates for a moment, just like me. I wonder if she’s thinking the same thing. If a million thoughts are running through her head.
“I do,” she says finally.
“By the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife.”
I lean down toward Rosalie, who slowly leans up. The next second her lips are against mine. I don’t close my eyes, just press my lips to hers firmly but closed mouth. She kisses me in a softer fashion, but her kiss is equally as modest. It lasts for a couple seconds longer before we both pull away.
I note that the kiss didn’t make me feel disgusted but rather just a little uneasy. I’ve played the part before, but not like this. Not a part that I’ll be expected to play for the rest of my life.
At the light applause around us, I suck in a breath.
“What’s next?” I ask.
“You sign the marriage license, and then… There are some papers I’ll need your brother to go over,” Eivor explains.
“Not me?” I raise a brow.
“You’ll see them afterward,” he insists.
I feel a deep dark pit in my stomach, and I glance toward Damian who still is refusing to meet my gaze. Or perhaps, I’m just too focused on him.
The next couple hours feel like a blur. I sign the papers along with Rosalie. And we are married.
I am married to a woman.
I feel a little dizzy while we go to the cathedral hall where we’ll be getting married again in a week. Eivor insists we check it out before the rehearsal, which is only in a few days.
I’ve been here before, a dozen or more times. Primarily while growing up. For Easter and Christmas.
The large cross at the center of the podium looks even bigger somehow than it did when I was a child. The tall ceilings make me feel like a small creature in all of this.
“Oh, I can already see the decorations, can’t you, Sweetheart?” Rosalie asks me with a smile. Putting on that voice of hers. The sweet and affectionate one. The one that says,we’re playing a game of dress up now.
Except, this game of dress up isn’t nearly as fun as I remember it being.
I put on my own smile, and I link arms with her as we walk down the aisle, looking at the pews.
“I can, it’s going to be beautiful, my dear,” I agree.
Damian walks behind us, and his presence is even heavier now.
I swear I feel him looking through me, but I can’t turn around to see if it’s true.
“You’re going to die when you see me in my gown,” Rosalie says with a sigh. “It’s stunning. I can’t believe they got it done so quickly.”
I’m a bit distracted, so I just hum in response.
“Alessio?” Rosalie says slowly and stops us walking.
“Hm?” I ask.
She sighs. “Look, if you’re not going to actually say anything in response, then don’t say anything at all.”
I blink at her. “What do you want from me? I’m here, aren’t I?”
