Page 11 of Chasing Clouds

“Stop this, Camille.” He shakes me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you will be marrying me today!” His fingers dig into my flesh and the pain shoots up my arm.

“No, I will not.” I try to pull free, but he just squeezes harder, and my eyes blur with tears.

Having heard and seen enough, my mysterious library guy steps up to the altar. His eyes are locked onto where Patrick is grabbing me, and his hands are clenched into fists.

“You will take your hand off her immediately, or I’ll remove it for you by breaking every bone in it.” His voice is so low and deep only those right around us can hear him, but the threat is clearly legitimate. Patrick’s nostrils flare and he reluctantly releases me, one finger at a time. The new guy wraps his hands around my waist and pulls me into the hard wall of his chest, putting distance between Patrick and me.

Commotion is increasing. More people are standing, and things very quickly start getting out of hand. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dale, Patrick’s best man, step around, charge forward, and pull back his fist. Jerking left toward the minister, my mystery guy twists us just as the punch flies by. Because Brittany has moved in a little closer, when Dale loses his balance on the altar steps due to the sudden change in everyone’s position, his fist crashes into her face. The impact and her scream are near deafening, and blood immediately begins pouring from her nose and mouth.

The entire audience is now on their feet as Brittany hits the floor, silence once again enveloping the church. Patrick falls to his knees and in this moment, everyone now knows what I discovered last night: she’s his side piece.

As the murmurs and conversations slowly start up again, Grandfather walks up to the altar and hands Patrick his handkerchief for Brittany. “I think it’s best if you all left now.” This isn’t a suggestion; it’s clearly an order.

“But . . .” Patrick scrambles, hopping up to his feet and looking for my father, who’s standing at the end of his pew, shaking his head, his face beet red, while my mother wrings her hands next to him. He’s so angry, but he’ll never add to the scene; I know he’s going to try to distance himself from it as much as possible. There are too many influential people in this room, and if anyone is going to be cast in an unfavorable light, it’s going to be Patrick or me, not him. He crosses his arms over his chest and glares at Patrick disapprovingly. Part of me wonders if it’s because he was screwing around with someone else behind my back, or if it’s because he got caught and their master plan has now been disrupted.

Security steps up behind my grandfather. They’ve been called in from the outside, and now they’re looming in the middle of the aisle.

The volume of our guests lowers as Grandfather turns and raises his hand to silence them. Whimpering from Brittany can be heard across the room as she’s still crouched on the floor.

“So, it seems we’ve had a slight change in plans today. We appreciate your patience as we settle on a few minor details for today’s festivities.” He smiles and light chuckling rises up, instantly lifting the heaviness of the room. “We will begin again in fifteen minutes, so hang tight. If there is anyone who wishes to leave, now would be the time. Thank you for coming.” He nods toward the groom’s side of the church then turns back to Patrick and his groomsmen.

Patrick’s immediate family gathers up their things and quietly exits out the back of the church. The door clicks behind them and all eyes swing toward the front to see what happens next.

“Patrick, it’s time to go,” my grandfather says firmly.

“N-No,” he stutters, slightly panicked and confused. He looks around the room, then at the guy standing behind me, and then at me. Every emotion flees as his desperate eyes bore into mine. My heart aches for what this is doing to him—after all, we were friends once upon a time—but I can’t really feel for the person he’s become over the last couple of years, and deep down I know he’s only going to get worse, not better.

“This isn’t over,” he spits out then turns to walk away. Dale lifts Brittany off the floor, and as he and the groomsmen follow, each one scowls and issues us a glare that says revenge is coming. With every step they take, I relax and sink back deeper into the arms of a man who’s a complete stranger and now my hero.

Bending down, he rests his mouth next to my ear and whispers, “It’s going to be okay. I’ve got you.”

I nod in agreement, but am unexpectedly more caught up in the sensation of his warm breath floating across my neck than I am in what’s going on around us. A shiver runs through me and his arms tighten. I like being close to him, and as Grandfather reaches for my hand, I’m reluctant to move away.

“Darling, head to the back of the church and wait for me there. Don’t go into the foyer.” He shakes his head and I understand his concern that Patrick might still be there. All of my bridesmaids except for Ali move to the front pew, and on the groom’s side, Nate steps up to stand in for the best man. Recognition flickers in the periphery of my brain, but all thoughts stop as I see Grandfather pinning his boutonniere onto the guy I’ve agreed to marry. Not looking at my father or any other guests, I numbly make my way to the back of the church and remind myself to breathe.

A short time passes before my grandfather joins me, and again the string quartet begins to play. In a matter of fifteen minutes, I feel completely different about what I’m about to do, and I wonder if I look different, too. As we make our way down the aisle, I know without a doubt I could have walked by myself, but the smile on his face is priceless. He whispers that he’s proud of me, and although this moment is fleeting, I’d do it all over again just to hear those words from him.

Green eyes smile at me appreciatively as I approach, and more than once I watch his gaze fall over the length of me. He likes what he sees, and so do I. He’s incredibly handsome, tall, and strong, and based on the way he carries himself, fearless. I can’t help but wonder where he came from, who he is—not that it matters. I’m so thankful for this man in front of me, and it’s quite possible I would follow him just about anywhere.

When we reach the end of the aisle, Grandfather lifts my veil, gives me a small kiss, and tucks my hand into the warmth of my new groom’s. “Well done, son.” He pats him on the shoulder and leaves the two of us staring at each other. I refuse to look anywhere else, not that I’m sure I could.

This is crazy—absolutely crazy.

Nervous butterflies take flight, but I don’t care. His eyes are bright and excited, and I’m certain mine mirror them.

Lacing our fingers together, we simultaneously take a deep breath, turn, and walk up the steps toward the minister, who smiles warily at us but winks at me. I get the feeling everyone knew I shouldn’t be marrying Patrick except for Patrick, my father, and me.

No, that’s not true—I knew, too.

He leans over and quietly asks, “Sir, what’s your name?”

“Reid Harrison Jackson.”

A jolt hits my body at the recognition of the name, and all other sounds are drowned out as understanding settles in and roars through my ears.

I glance past him at Nate. Our eyes lock and hold as his narrow and his lips press into a thin line. His brother, who lives in Tampa . . . his brother, who he said was coming as his plus one . . . his brother, who he backed as Patrick bore down on him. His brother. Shock must register across my face because Reid’s grasp on my hand tenses, his fingers tightening around mine.

Leaning forward, he asks me if everything is okay.