10. Penelope
Chapter 10
Penelope
I guess I should have expected that the wedding would be happening soon. Xavier, Dominic, and Tristan have been under a magnifying glass where their board of directors is concerned, and it makes sense that they would want to get this over and done with so they can get back to work.
But still, I thought I’d have a bit longer than a week and a half to adjust to… everything. It feels like time just flew by, and now I’m standing in the church where the wedding will be held, staring at myself in the mirror while Fletcher’ assistant Delia flutters around behind me, making adjustments to my dress.
To my wedding dress.
Sweet lord, I am wearing a wedding dress because I’m getting married in—I glance over to the clock on the wall—an hour and a half.
“How do you feel?” Delia asks, standing up and smiling at my reflection in the mirror.
“In the dress or in general?” I ask her.
She grins at me and shrugs. “Either. Both. I know weddings bring up a lot of feelings for people.”
I want to ask her how many weddings she’s seen where the bride barely knows the grooms and the whole thing is just a business arrangement. But actually, we’re probably not the first, considering the way the business world works.
I can’t tell her that I’m still trying to wrap my head around all of this. That I can’t really believe it’s happening. I agreed to this, and I’ve kept agreeing to it every step of the way, but there’s still a part of me that’s surprised I haven’t backed out by now.
It crossed my mind a few times, to tell the men that I’m not the one for them and they need to find someone else. But then the ORD officer had shown up to my apartment for the required questions and tests, and that erased any chance of me turning the three of them down. Because thanks to me agreeing to marry them and the strings they managed to pull, I didn’t have to go down to the ORD offices and have the whole presentation ordeal. And I didn’t have to admit to everyone that I lied about being a Beta in the first place.
I take a deep breath and try to figure out what it is I’m feeling. Surprise. Anxiety. A little bit of excitement, maybe?
“I think I’m okay,” I tell Delia. “It’s just a lot.”
“I get that,” she replies. “Listen, every bride has some anxiety on her wedding day. Grooms do too. You’re going from one phase of life to another and basically promising to spend the rest of your life with another person. It’s a big deal.”
“It really is,” I agree. Even though I’m only promising to spend the next year of my life with these three men, it’s still a big deal.
“If it helps, you look stunning,” Delia says. “Your men won’t know what hit them when you come down the aisle.”
That does help, and I stare at my reflection a bit, smiling. I didn’t know what to look for when it came to the dress. Most brides probably go for some mix of what they like and what they think their future husbands will want to see them in, but I had no idea where to even start with that. So I went a little selfish and focused on something that would make me feel good.
Fletcher and Delia kept telling me that it’s my day too and if I don’t feel like ‘the hottest thing in the room’ I was doing it wrong.
After trying on and saying no to what felt like half the dresses they brought for me, I finally found the one I fell in love with.
Instead of being the traditional stark white, it’s more of a creamy ivory color that Delia says brings out the warm notes in my hair. It has a full skirt that skims the floor, but flares out when I spin around, making me feel like a princess. The sleeves are off the shoulder and made of sheer fabric that ends at my elbows. As Delia pointed out during the fitting, one of the best things about it in the built in push up bra that shows off a tasteful amount of cleavage with the sweetheart neckline of the dress. My favorite part are the lace flowers that start at the bodice of the dress and cascade down to the skirt, sparkling with hidden seed pearl beads when I walk.
My hair is curled, held back from my face by two small braids that meet in the back of my head while the rest of it falls around my shoulders.
I look… beautiful. I feel comfortable saying that. My makeup is minimal, just enough to be formal for the day and to enhance my features, but not so much that I don’t recognize myself. I look like me. A very pretty version of me.
“Thank you,” I tell Delia. “And thank you for all yours and Fletcher’ help with this. I would have had no idea where to start, and you two were amazing.”
Delia beams. “It really was a pleasure, Penelope. You can’t imagine some of the bridezillas we have to deal with sometimes, and getting to work with someone chill like you was a welcome change.”
There’s a knock on the door of the dressing room we’ve taken over and then Fletcher’ voice from the hall. “Is everyone decent in here?”
“Come on in,” Delia calls back after a nod from me.
Fletcher comes in, dressed in his wedding outfit. It’s kind of amazing how he’s not matching our color scheme of dusty lavender, ivory, and gold, but his sharp suit works within it.
He smiles when he sees me, coming forward to take my hands in his. “You look incredible, Penelope,” he says. “Your men aren’t going to know what to do with themselves.”
I doubt that, but it’s still nice to hear.
“Thank you,” I say.
“How are you holding up? No cold feet, I hope?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m going to go through with it, I’m just… a little nervous. Most people do the bonding before the wedding, so it feels backward to be doing it this way.” As if that’s the only weird thing about the situation.
“There’s no right or wrong way to do it,” Fletcher says. “Do you know how many weddings I’ve planned since I started doing this?”
I shake my head again.
“Over two thousand. And I can tell you that while they had some things in common, not one of them was the same as another. Every wedding is unique because the people getting married are unique. Sure, some things are traditional, but if that doesn’t work for you and your situation, then there’s no need to hold on to it. It’s the rest of your life you’re working toward. No one else’s opinion matters if you and your grooms are happy.”
I smile at him, and even though his words only kind of relate to this situation, it helps. Xavier, Dominic, Tristan, and I are certainly a unique case.
“Thank you for saying that.” I smile at them both. “I don’t have any family here today, no one who would show up for me like that, so you guys are making this a lot easier for me.”
“Oh, honey,” Delia says. She comes over and puts her arms around me in a hug. “We’re here for you. And more importantly, those three gorgeous men are here for you. Focus on that.”
Fletcher joins the hug and then steps back. “All right, let’s not mess up the bride before her big moment.” He checks the time and nods. “The space is finished and the grooms are just about ready. We should get moving.”
My stomach twists in knots, but I nod, taking a deep breath. Delia squeezes my hand and the two of them lead me out of the dressing room and through the halls of the church.
It’s quiet, and that’s good. I focus on not tripping over my dress, putting one foot in front of the other. Fletcher leads the way, and as we get closer to the main hall where the wedding will take place, I can hear the sounds of music and people talking.
Oh god. It’s time.
“Head high, shoulders back,” Fletcher murmurs to me. “They’re all here to see you, not the other way around. And you are a sight to be seen today.”
“Thank you,” I whisper back. I try to internalize the message, straightening my posture.
Delia does a last minute fluff of my dress and my hair and then gives Fletcher the thumbs up. He counts down from five on his fingers, and when the last one goes down, he pushes open the ornate wooden doors to the rest of the church.
I barely get a glimpse of the decor. All I can see is a sea of unfamiliar faces, all turning as one to look at me. I try to breathe, try to remember what Fletcher just told me, but panic rises in me, making my chest tight.
All the doubts that have been swimming through my head since I agreed to this are suddenly very loud again. It’s like I’m screaming ‘ what are you doing? ’ on repeat in my head. I can’t do this. I can’t walk down the aisle to three men I don’t even know. It’s insane. It’s absurd.
But then, soft twinkling catches my eye.
Through the panic, I start to notice the details of the space. The way the church is full to bursting with lovely flowers in shades of cream, lavender and dark blue. The way the stained glass windows shine with bright colors, adding to the ambiance of the space. Above it all, there are fairy lights, strung above the guests and woven through floral garlands around the edges of the church.
Just the way I’ve always dreamed of.
A smile spreads across my face. It’s small and still shakes a bit with nerves, but it’s there. I raise my head and look down the aisle and there are the three men I’m supposed to be marrying.
I see Xavier first, and he smiles at me, his eyes bright. Dominic is there, tall and commanding, giving off his steady, reassuring presence. Even Tristan doesn’t seem quite so intimidating in the moment, standing with his usual cool, guarded expression, but an easy posture that’s less closed off.
They’re so handsome in their suits, each one with a pocket square and tie that matches one of the colors Fletcher selected for the wedding. I see them in suits a lot at work, but this is different.
This time, they’re waiting for me.
I take a step toward them and then another. It gets easier after that.
I walk down the aisle alone, repeating Fletcher’ words in my head. Head high, shoulders back. My fingers clench around my bouquet, and I can’t make eye contact with anyone I pass, but I keep moving, following the beacon that is the three men in front of me.
When I get to the altar to join them, my heart is racing. There’s no going back from this. Not for a year, anyway.
Every eye in the room is on us, and the three of them only seem to have eyes for me. Their scents are so strong up close like this, mingling together into an overpowering wave. If they’re wearing cologne for the day, I can’t tell, because my nose is just full of their natural scents, and they affect me the way they always do.
“Please be seated,” the officiant says, gesturing to the gathered crowd of people. He smiles and begins the service.
If I’m being honest, I don’t hear a lot of it. My heartbeat is very loud in my head, and I can’t take my eyes off my future husbands. He talks about togetherness and forming a pack that’s stronger than the four of us could be on our own. It’s a nice thought. But I know that’s not always how it works out.
He looks to me, and I snap out of my reverie, focusing again.
“Do you Penelope Dalton, take these men to be your husbands? To stand with them when times are hard? To offer your support when they need it? To keep their confidence and add to their bounty?”
It’s funny that those are the vows he’s going with. Because those are definitely vows of a pack, to stand with each other and be each other’s support. But this isn’t real. The only support Xavier, Tristan, and Dominic need from me is to make them seem more functional for their board and investors. And to keep the secret of it all, I guess.
On the outside, to anyone who doesn’t know what’s going on, this probably seems like a very sweet moment. Like something beautiful and real.
But to me it all feels forced. Artificial. I can make the vows, the way I know I’m supposed to, but it doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t make it more true.
Still, I force a smile and nod. “I do.”
He asks the same question to each of the men in turn and they all reply with their ‘I do’s. Xavier is still smiling, Dominic looks determined, and Tristan looks… like Tristan. Unflappable.
“I now pronounce you husbands and wife,” the officiant says. “You may kiss your bride.”
My heart leaps into my throat again. We talked about this, about how it’s necessary to do this part to really sell the whole thing, but that doesn’t make me any more ready for it right now.
I look at them, tall, gorgeous, imposing in their own ways, and I’m unsure how to even start. Which one do I kiss first? Tristan has made it more than clear that he doesn’t even want to be here, and Dominic is not the sort of person you just kiss with no warning. Xavier seems like a safe bet, but even still, I don’t know how to?—
My racing thoughts are cut off by Dominic moving, making the choice for me. He steps closer and wraps an arm around my waist. I can feel the heat of him through our clothes, and this close his smell slams into me like a ton of bricks.
It’s intense the way it always is, dark chocolate and blackberry, but there’s something else there too, that hint of spice that entices me as he leans in. Our lips meet, and it’s like an explosion of heat all through my body. He kisses the way he does everything else, with complete control, taking over and guiding my lips against his. It’s impossible not to surrender to it, and I’m only glad I avoid making any little sounds in the process. That would be embarrassing.
It probably only lasts for a few seconds, but when he pulls away, my head is spinning as if it lasted much longer.
When he steps back, Tristan takes his place.
I stare up at him, completely unsure of how this is going to play out. I’m honestly shocked he didn’t want to go last, considering how he clearly doesn’t want to touch me.
But he does touch me. Lightly, hesitantly, but he still does it. He puts a hand on my shoulder and dips his head, pausing just inches from my mouth before he closes the distance.
It’s a restrained kiss, like he’s holding back everything from it, just putting his lips on mine and putting as little of himself in it as possible, but all the same, I’m caught. His scent is also overwhelming, cinnamon, espresso, and toasted nuts washing over me and flooding my senses. My hand comes up in a motion to hold on to him, but I catch myself halfway through.
I don’t think he’d appreciate that.
Then there’s Xavier. He grins widely as he comes to take his place in front of me. He cups my cheek with a warm hand, and I almost lean into the touch. Almost.
If he notices, he doesn’t say anything, and it doesn’t stop him from bending down to kiss me.
Each of them kisses differently, each of them with their own unique scent and way of touching me. Each one builds on each other, from one to the next, and I feel dizzy by the time Xavier’s mouth is on mine.
Dominic and Tristan kept their kisses short, but Xavier?
He doesn’t seem to be in any hurry at all.