Mr. Fiancé(65)

But now I know that for Oliver, it meant nothing. He was repaying a debt, and the sex was just his little way to put his own twist on the whole thing. The kind words, the cuddles, the laughter. All of it was just him getting into his role. He never loved me. Hell, last night, he probably fucked me so hard because he wanted it to hurt, to show me just how angry he was.

This whole thing is one big fucking fraud. And Oliver’s right—I’m just a liar.

“Are you okay?” Mom asks me, seeing the tears that are threatening to fall from my eyes.

I flash her a weak smile, forcing at least my lips to turn upward some. “Yeah. Just nervous, Mom.”

“Oh, baby,” she says, giving me a hug. “I understand. I was so nervous yesterday. And the day that your father and I got married, I was so worked up I got sick. But there’s nothing to be nervous about. This is your special day. Be happy. Rejoice in it. All of your family is here to see you except for Grandpa Johnny.”

“But he’s watching from heaven,” Grandma says. “You can be sure of it.”

Their words are supposed to make me feel better. I know that, but they only succeed in making me feel worse. Grandpa was old school, one of those men who always talked straight. He never told a lie that I knew of, even when it might have saved him a lot of pain. He never would have done what I’ve done, and if he’s looking down on me, he’s not proud of me.

“Thank you both,” I reply, forcing the words out. “I’m so glad you’re both here to see my special day.”

I try to make conviction ring true in my words, but they sound false even to me. Still, they chalk it up to my pre-wedding jitters and come over, giving me a kiss.

“We’re both so proud of you!” Mom says, patting me on the cheek.

I do my best not to break down into tears as they leave the room to find their seats in the chapel hall, and I take a minute to try and compose myself before I leave. Outside in the hallway, I see Roxy waiting for me. She’s my maid of honor, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a maid of honor so giddy that she’s hopping from side to side like a boxer getting ready for a fight.

“Girl, you look so beautiful,” Roxy says with a smile. She’s wearing the same gown from yesterday because it compliments my gown just right. She’s added a few flowers in her hair, weaving them into the curls the hairdresser did. She’s a vision.

“Thank you. You look gorgeous too,” I reply, trying to just keep myself from breaking down. My sister is more beautiful than she’s ever looked in her entire life . . . and it’s for a lie. How is she supposed to ever believe in love after this?

“What’s wrong, bae? You don’t look happy like you should be,” Roxy says, stopping her bouncing and stepping close, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Are you feeling all right?”

I flash another weak smile. By the time the day is over, my cheeks are gonna be sore from flashing fake smiles all the time. Each one feels like I’m lifting a half ton with hooks driven through my cheeks. I’m exhausted already, and I’ve got hours of this to still look forward to.

“Just nervous,” I tell her. “You know how it is.”

“Yeah, right. Honey, if I had a man like Oliver, I’d be like let's get this shit over with and bring on the consummation!” She giggles.

I fidget with my gown. Even Roxy’s normal humor isn’t enough to get a laugh out of me, and Roxy notices. She takes my other shoulder, squaring up and looking me in the eyes. “I know. Every wedding is a performance. And if I know anything, I know how it is to be nervous before performing. And I know you’re doing this as much for Mom, Grandma, and me as for you. So thank you. It will be okay though. I don’t say it enough, but you kick ass.”

“Thanks,” I say, though I feel dead inside. Kick ass? I can’t even man up about a fake wedding. I don’t kick ass. I suck it. “It really means a lot to me that you’re here.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for all the world,” Roxy says before stopping. “Oh, wait!”

“What?” I ask, and Roxy smiles, rooting around in the cups of her gown for something before pulling out a small packet. “What’s that?”

“An old button, a blue Tic-tac, and a penny I borrowed from Aunt Rita. All wrapped in a new handkerchief,” Roxy says, tucking it inside the left cup of my gown. “There, all the bases covered. Time to do your damn thing.”

We walk to the back of the chapel, waiting for my moment. We’re doing it a little different than Mom’s yesterday, and Oliver’s going to meet me by the altar. I’m the only one getting the big entrance, the total star of the show. It makes me want to puke, and as I hear the warmup music and then the minister’s opening remarks, I’m nearly shitting bricks.