She nodded slowly. "Yes."
"Now put on that dazzling smile you give me every day and show these fuckwits who they're messing with."
Britta reached to the side and took my hand in hers.
Today was undoubtedly going to be a test. A test to not punch Roman in his smirking mouth.
Confidently, we walked past the groups mingling on the lawn as the chapel bell sounded. I gave a gentle, reassuring squeeze to Britta's hand as we approached the entrance. I knew she must have felt the impulse to run, but since she hadn't, I could only assume she had her fears under control.
Up the few steps, we crossed the threshold, our eyes taking a moment to adjust. Inside, people were quickly finishing their conversations knowing proceedings were due to start. The first three rows are already filled on both sides with family and close friends of the bride and groom.
When we first entered, those people were chatting with their backs to the door. Within moments, however, silent word had spread like wildfire, and those very people had now swiveled in their pews to surreptitiously observe Britta's entrance. There were plenty of curious frowns. Plenty of gossipy whispers.
"You're better than them," I said against her ear. The women ahead watched our interaction. They eyed me up and down, and then did the same to Britta. Feeling their scrutiny, she tucked herself closer to me as I steered her to a back pew. A woman in her late fifties, wearing a lavender lace dress and matching fascinator, approached, but it wasn't until she opened her mouth that I recognized who she was.
"Britta Valentino," she began in a nervous, plum-in-her-mouth voice. "I didn't think you would come."
Judging by the look in her eyes, I'd say she wished we hadn't. Roman was her son, and no doubt she had her own opinion with regards to the breakup. Janice was the type of person who had an opinion on just about everything. And worse still, she believed those opinions to be nothing but right. She hadn't been shy about sharing her thoughts on Britta when she and her nobody son started dating. But Britta endeavored to get her future mom-in-law on her side and tolerated the bullshit with a smile.
"I was invited. Roman was rather persistent in having me here."
She nodded, her tell-tale eyes squinting slightly, assessing the truth in Britta's words. "I know..." she paused. "Look, what happened between you and Roman is none of my business, but I'm sure there was no malice in it."
"Have you ever had your fiancé and best friend sneak around on you before, Janice?" I asked, only to receive an elbow to the ribs by Britta. It seemed Roman becoming an asshole was a given since his mother was queen of them.
Janice had the nerve to look mortified. "No," she practically spat. "No, they haven't."
"Then I guess it's hard to have empathy when it hasn't happened to you. Two people you trust most in the world, sneaking off and-"
Another nudge.
"Janice... I'm sorry. I don't harbor any ill feelings toward Roman and Rebekah. If I did, I wouldn't be here. I only wish them well.
"We all do. Perhaps it was just meant to be this way," Janice remarked, in an attempt to save face.
Britta, wearing what only I knew to be a fake smile, agreed with the wicked witch.
"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen," the minister called from the pulpit. "Please take your seats, the ceremony is about to begin."
Britta smiled at me, and I pulled her in close, her hand covering mine.
Failing to move on instruction, Janice's eyes followed Britta's movements. More specifically her hand. And then when she saw it, her beady eyes turned as wide as saucers.
"You're engaged?" she asked, passing a surprised look between us.
"Ah..."
"Yes," I said before Britta's good conscience got the better of her.
"Yes," she concurred.
Janice turned to me, eyed the tattoos on my hands and those on my neck. She was debating whether to say what was on her mind. "Engaged... to you?"
I could understand why she asked. Roman and I weren't exactly mirror images. For starters, he had a shriveled dick. I was a man. But that didn't change the judgment in her tone.
I shrugged my shoulders indifferently and winked. "What can I say? Apparently, she likes my cock."
More than two gasps were audible.
Beside me, Britta practically choked on her saliva. Janice looked a mix between mortified and aroused, and the woman in the pew in the front sitting with her husband was eyeing me off like I was a piece of meat for tenderizing.
Janice's made-up face turned beet red, a string of incomprehensible words spilling from her mouth. She shifted awkwardly on her heel, and using the pews for balance, she staggered her way down to her seat at the front.
"Are you on drugs?" Britta mouthed. I couldn't tell if she was pissed or not because she still seemed in a state of shock.
"No, babe. Someone had to shut her up."
"Not like that!"
"It worked, didn't it? Besides... there's some partial truth in it."
"I haven't even seen your cock," she hissed, but her breasts started to color.
"Not yet."
Britta rubbed her forehead. "I need wine."
Behind us, the doors opened, and Roman walked in with his groomsman in tow. Wearing knock-off Gucci suits, they made their way down the aisle laughing at a private joke before taking their place at the front.
Next to me, Britta was utterly still, her breathing shallow.
The music changed to something orchestral and the doors reopened. Everyone in the chapel turned to face the entry. One by one as the bridesmaids entered, I recognized all their faces. All but one were a part of the same friends' group through college. The same friends' group Britta had once been a part of... until recently. Until they were persuaded to take sides, and Britta got to see who her true friends were. Her brothers could insist as much as they wanted about her finding new friends, but once burned, twice shy.
I got it.
And so did she.
With all the bridesmaids lined in formation, smiles started to falter from sore cheekbones, then the bride made her entry. We all stood for the procession. Rebekah, wearing a Cinderella-style gown took to the red carpet. Her make-up was unattractively thick, hair pulled tightly back.
I watched Britta carefully as Rebekah went past us. She was composed. The only tell-tale sign was the slow swallow. She was about to witness her ex-best friend marry her ex-fiancé. All things considered, she was faring well. My hand moved to Britta's lower back, my thumb running in rhythmic circles. She leaned into my touch but remained stiff as a board.
What a fucking predicament.
She deserved to have her mind distracted.
And I knew the very thing that could help.
Chapter 9
Britta
My stomach knotted painfully.
The contents of my gut threatened to revolt.
What was she doing here?
I knew every single one of the bridesmaids. Everyone except her.
Her brilliant red hair caught my attention first, and I recognized her as the woman from the party who kissed Hawk. Daring a sideward glance, I noticed a slight frown on Hawk's face. He'd seen her too but quickly turned indifferent to her being there. I didn't even realize she was acquainted with the bride and groom.
Having no time to dwell on the details, my thoughts were interrupted when Rebekah walked down the aisle in a dress I knew she'd wanted for years. She was one of those women who already had their entire wedding planned out long before she's even met her Mr. Right. She glided past without a sideward smile to anyone, eyes only for Roman. I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel a pang of jealousy. Not because I wanted to be the one walking down the aisle to Roman, but because my two best friends had found love with each other and kicked me to the curb in the process.
Why in God's name did I come to this?
Was it to prove I was no longer jaded?
Was it to show Roman and Rebekah I'd moved on?
Or had I been so caught up in our off-chance meeting that I had something to prove to myself?
That I wasn't a loser?
The question remained, however. Why did Roman want me here?
I doubt Rebekah was too keen in my attendance.
Hawk's thumb continued drawing small circles on my lower back. It was like he could read my thoughts, so his touch was soothing. My mind started to wander. In a chapel, as a ceremony was about to take place, one man's touch was taking me down a trail of wicked, dirty thoughts. I wanted his large, strong hands on me, in places I longed to be touched by them. I wanted to feel his strength. His possession.
Rebekah reached Roman, and everyone took a seat. Hawk moved his hand so it clasped mine and I marveled at how natural it felt. And then I wondered how other women at the front of his advances had felt when he touched them. All the women Hawk met fell hard and fast for him. I could see myself not being the exception.
Hawk Carnage had been my college crush. And since then, I'd always been enamored when in his presence. He was the one I'd always wanted but was forbidden.
But when did Hawk start having a ‘thing' for me?
I was a late bloomer. Awkward and shy. But once I entered the workforce, I'd blossomed in many ways. I'd filled out. My curves fell in all the right places and my body slenderized in other areas. I had noticed Hawk's wandering eye back then, but anything more than a wandering eye had been strictly off-limits.
"Ladies and gentlemen..." the minister's voice interrupted my thoughts, "... if anyone has cause or reason that these two people should not be joined in matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace."