Chapter 17
Emma
The weather was already far too hot for this early in the morning—this early being almost ten. I wasn’t a morning person, okay?
A limo had arrived at Jameson’s house a couple hours ago, courtesy of Bridget, ready to drive Jameson, Elsie, and me to the Walker Farm for the wedding. Since Maya and Oliver lived on the edge of town, they were picked up first. I had to fight to keep in my laugh when I opened the limo door to find Maya tucked into her husband’s side, half-asleep, still in her pajamas, her blonde hair mussed.
As much as I hated mornings, if there was a morning-hating competition, Maya would win first place every time.
Thanks to the large coffees from The Roasted Bean that Bridget had arranged to be waiting for us at the Walker house, Maya was now looking slightly less zombie-like. Meanwhile, I was teetering on the edge of a knife of anxiety.
If you had told me a year ago that I would be marrying Liam Walker, I would have laughed in your face and then fed you a donut just for making me laugh.
Elsie and Maya had suggested taking a walk around the farm to get my wiggles out, but we only made it as far as the gazebo before we took shelter in the shade. Though we were dressed lightly, the three of us in cutesy silk robes that Bridget thought would make adorable photos, each of us were glistening with sweat. I didn’t know how I’d make it through the ceremony in this heat, in a floor-length gown, standing in the sun. Sweat poured down my spine at the thought of it.
I glanced down at the pristine, white silk robe I was wearing and suddenly had the urge to spill ketchup on it—as a joke of course. Not as any indication of how I felt inside over this fake marriage to my best friend.
Speaking of him, I hadn’t seen Liam at all this morning. I’d expected him to be the first person to greet us when we pulled up to his parents’ house, or to at least hang around in the kitchen eating the plethora of snacks Bridget had also procured until it was time for me to get in my dress.
Part of me was relieved to not have seen him yet because I had a feeling I would have chickened out entirely and run for the hills. It would take everything I had to not tuck tail and run the minute my feet hit the velvet aisle that would end with me becoming Liam’s wife.
His wife.
Only rarely in my dreams had I ever allowed those words to enter my mind, but now they were going to become reality.
It wasn’t real, of course. Liam wasn’t marrying me because he loved me. That truth clanged through me like the strike of a gong, sweeping the breath from my lungs.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, making me flinch. It was a text from Bridget asking where we were.
I sighed and said to Maya and Elsie, “The dungeon master calls.”
The two of them burst into giggles as we headed back to the Walker house.
We had barely crossed the threshold into the blessed air conditioning when Bridget ordered, “It’s time to get in your dress.” She was waiting in the kitchen, clipboard in hand, wearing a tight black pantsuit that looked like it belonged more at a funeral than a wedding. “The ceremony will begin soon, and we need to finish getting you ready.”
Without another choice, I swallowed down my nerves and nodded, following Bridget up the stairs to the bedroom where Elsie, Maya, and I had stashed our dresses. It was a room of Liam’s parents’ house that I’d never been in, and I assumed it used to belong to one of his older sisters. As soon as the door opened, I was hit with a wall of hairspray and perfume, still lingering from an hour ago when we had our hair done.
“You have thirty minutes,” Bridget snapped before disappearing back the way she’d come.
My dress hung from a ceiling hook in the corner, still hidden in a garment bag, while Elsie’s and Maya’s dresses hung on a rack next to it. As much as Bridget wanted to plan the whole thing, I did put my foot down when it came to the bridesmaid dresses. I wanted my friends to be comfortable, not shoved in frilly dresses that I hated. I told them the color needed to be some shade of dusty rose and they’d picked them out themselves.
It only took moments for the two of them to slip into their dresses, and my heart swelled at the sight of my two best friends. Elsie looked stunning in a satin dress that hugged her curves and wrapped over one shoulder. She looked like a goddess from the fantasy books she liked to read. Maya’s dress was equal parts classy and sexy, which fit her perfectly. It was an off-the-shoulder A-line velvet dress—which she’d be sweating to death in—with a sweetheart neckline that accentuated her figure in all the best ways.
“You guys look beautiful,” I said, emotion clogging my throat, and I cleared it, trying to force it away.
Elsie and Maya beamed at me before taking my arms and dragging me over to the garment bag. Before I could even protest or be embarrassed, they had the robe stripped from my body, and were easing me into the lace monstrosity.
Monstrosity was probably too mean a word for the dress. It really was beautiful. It just put my…assets on display a little more than I was comfortable with.
It was a gorgeous off-white lace dress that wrapped over my shoulders but had a plunging neckline that went nearly to my stomach. The sheer mesh holding the fabric together was my only saving grace for having any sort of modesty. The skirt was loose and flowy, something I imagined a princess might wear. I had to admit, the dress was very romantic.
Elsie’s eyes filled with tears, and Maya just grinned.
“You look magnificent,” Elsie commented. Maya nodded in agreement.
I could only stare at myself in the mirror. My brown hair was left down in loose waves, and the two of them had weaved small wisps of white and dusty roses throughout to make me look like a woodland princess. I didn’t hate it.
I opened my mouth to say something—what, I didn’t know—but a knock at the door sounded before Bridget popped her head inside.
“Are we ready?” she asked, and her eyes widened as they landed on me. She stepped fully into the room. I expected her to demand that they take the flowers out of my hair since the hair stylist hadn’t put them there, but to my surprise, she smiled at me.
“You look lovely, Emma,” she said. The look on her face was something like pride—but not pride that I looked nice, pride that she had pulled all of this off.
I didn’t like her much, I decided.
“Everyone is waiting and ready if you are.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
With Bridget in the room, Maya and Elsie stayed quiet, though I knew Maya was bursting to speak her mind. But the silence was probably for the best. I didn’t know what they would say to Bridget or me, and I didn’t need another reason to consider running away.
What was wrong with me? I should have been happy. I was marrying my best friend, helping both him and me out in the process. This was a good thing.
Right?
Elsie and Maya followed Bridget down the stairs and into the main level of the house. Bridget spouted off several instructions, but it felt like I had cotton in my ears. Since we had run through the rehearsal the night before, my feet knew where to move and when, but my head wasn’t in it. I felt like a zombie walking toward the back door that would lead outside.
The Walkers’ back yard was truly stunning. Even before Bridget’s wedding transformation, there was acre after acre of lush, green grass, with large, mature trees spaced evenly throughout the land. A pond sat in the distance with a burbling creek that ran through the rest of the acreage. I had always felt like the Walkers’ yard was nothing short of fairytale-esque, and even if the wedding was fake, I was glad it was here.
Adjusting my dress and smoothing down the lace over the bodice, I took a deep breath, readying myself to walk down the stairs that would lead me to Liam.
Bridget had had a set of double doors built to sit at the beginning of the aisle, so I could come down the steps from the back porch without being seen. Two ushers in suits—whom I had never seen before—waited on either side to open it for me.
Maya was just entering through the doors, on her way down to her spot, which meant Elsie and my brother should already be down by Liam, waiting for me.
The beautiful music, the sweat dripping down the back of my neck, and my clammy hands holding my bouquet all faded away as I stood there, waiting for those doors to open.
I was about to marry Liam. I couldn’t help wondering, not for the first time, if I was dreaming—if I would wake up soon and all of this would vanish, never existing in the first place.
As I stood there staring at those doors, I felt so alone.
My dad should have been here. He should have been standing next to me, ready to walk me down the aisle and place my hand in Liam’s. He should’ve been wiping away tears of his own while I hugged his chest as tightly as I could.
But that was a dream that could never be because my dad wasn’t here anymore.
A sharp pang pierced through my chest, and I briefly debated turning around and running back into the house.
I didn’t know what I was thinking. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t—
A shadow moved in my periphery before an arm suddenly looped through my right one, and I looked up, surprised to find Jameson in his tux. A second later another arm looped around my left one. It was Maya this time.
“What are you guys doing?” I whispered, knowing the musicians—a lovely quartet that I had to admit Bridget did a great job choosing—would be starting the wedding march any second. They were supposed to be waiting at the end of the aisle, not standing here with me.
“We know how hard this is for you,” Maya said, squeezing my wrist.
“Mom wanted to walk you down the aisle,” Jameson explained, “but her legs aren’t strong enough today.” There was a glimmer in his eyes that gave away his concern for Mom. “Maya and I talked, and we wanted to be the ones to give you away, Em. You’re everything to us. Will you let us walk you down the aisle?”
My own eyes filled with tears, and I blinked furiously to keep them back so I didn’t ruin the makeup Elsie had so masterfully applied. I had opted for her subtle makeup instead of the over-the-top makeup artist Bridget had hired. I rarely wore makeup—I hated the feel of it on my face. I wasn’t about to get married feeling like I was wearing a mask.
I didn’t miss the irony of that thought.
I swallowed down the emotion in my throat.
“That would mean the world to me,” I finally managed to say.
Both of them sniffled, as they rested their foreheads against the side of my head. We were a family, and I’d never been so thankful for them to be mine.
Bridget wouldn’t like this sudden departure from her carefully curated plan, but I didn’t care. If I was going to lose out on a real wedding, having to settle for this farce, at least there were pieces that were real—that meant something.
There was a giant pause in the music followed by the swell of strings signaling the start of the wedding march.
This was it.
Before I could brace myself, the ushers opened the doors, and the breath caught in my throat.
I barely even noticed the beauty Bridget had created between the velvet runway, or the twig seats covered in peonies, or the stunning archway at the end of the aisle. No, my attention went straight to the man waiting in a tux.
His blond hair was in its usual style, reminding me of a 90’s boy band, and I found myself grateful for that little bit of familiarity.
But it wasn’t the way he stood there, confident and handsome, that had my eyes locked on him and the breath escaping from my chest. No, it was the way he was looking at me.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen Liam look at me in such a way. A way that made me feel beautiful—like I was the only woman on earth that he wanted to look at.
My footsteps faltered as Jameson and Maya started leading me down the aisle. I didn’t even spare a glance to see if Bridget was annoyed at the change.
Liam’s gaze was locked on mine, and it was all I could do not to stumble forward with each step. My brother and cousin held me tightly, maybe even expecting me to make a run for it, but now that I was here, now that I saw Liam and was experiencing what it felt like to have him look at me like that, running was the last thing on my mind.
My mom was in her wheelchair in the front row, and she rolled herself forward so she could place her hand on mine as I reached the end. I leaned down so she could kiss my forehead.
“I love you, Emma. You are a beautiful bride.” Tears glistened in her eyes, and she pulled me down to whisper in my ear. “Don’t give up hope, my dear.”
I blinked at her. Why would she say that? I’d never told her this wasn’t real, so why would she tell me not to give up hope? Maybe she was saying it because she knew how hard this was for me without dad here.
I didn’t have time to ask as she patted my hand again and rolled back into her spot. Both Jameson and Maya gave me a hug before my brother led me forward and placed my hand in Liam’s.
Some kind of silent bro conversation passed between the men before Liam nodded, his fingers closing around mine. And then Jameson was gone, dissolving into his place at Liam’s side as his best man.
I stepped up so we were face to face, my chest squeezing as I met his gaze once more. His brows were lowered over his eyes like he was deep in thought about something.
Mr. Bob cleared his throat, finally forcing Liam’s fierce gaze to falter. He looked down at my hand while the officiant began speaking, his thumb tracing a line across the back of it. Such a small touch shouldn’t have sent lightning through my veins, but I might as well have been a tall metal pole in Liam’s thunderous embrace.
“Dearly beloved,” Mr. Bob’s droning voice began, “We are gathered here today…”
I couldn’t help it—I tuned out what he was saying. The monotone, nasally voice was too much to handle, and the way Liam kept moving his thumb across my skin was making it impossible to focus. It was weird.
Liam and I had touched plenty in the past, holding hands in moments that called for it, like running away from the next farm over at midnight after we finished cow tipping and the farmer’s flashlight was coming through the field. Liam had held my hand to keep me upright as we sprinted across the farm to his car hiding in the trees.
We had hugged plenty too, and I’d had Liam’s arm around my shoulders in comfort before, like when he held me when my dad died, or after my first boyfriend broke up with me in high school, or when the kids picked on me at recess for being taller than all the other boys were at the time.
But none of that lit my insides ablaze like this tiny, minuscule touch. None of those touches were accompanied by the look on his face now.
Was he not listening to Mr. Bob either?
His droning was like white noise, at least until he turned to Jameson and said, “The rings, please.”
That snapped me out of it.
Mr. Bob handed me Liam’s ring first. Since this wedding wasn’t happening because of any true feelings between us, we had opted to recite the traditional wedding vows versus writing our own.
I wouldn’t ruin that type of experience, or waste writing such personal, love-filled words on someone who didn’t love me and would divorce me in a matter of months.
Traditional vows would suffice.
Mr. Bob had me repeat after him, and I tried to sound like I meant each word, but I felt like there was zero feeling in my voice. Could anyone else hear how empty the words sounded falling from my lips?
It was automatic when the vows were finished to slide the ring onto Liam’s finger. His hands were warm and calloused from years of farmwork and guitar playing.
Then Mr. Bob handed Liam my ring. He cleared his throat before repeating the words.
“I, Liam, take you, Emma, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”
It might have been my imagination, but there was something infused into his voice as he said the words. It…sounded like he meant them. Liam slipped the ring over my finger, and I pressed my lips together to hold in a gasp. It was the first time I had seen it.
It was a pear-shaped emerald set on a stunning rose gold band. It somehow combined the flashiness Liam needed for showing me off to the world, with a certain dainty simplicity that fit me perfectly.
Bravo, Bridget. I only wished Liam had been the one to pick out my ring. It would have meant more to me.
“Then, by the power vested in me by the state of Iowa, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The audience burst into applause. Mr. Bob looked at Liam. “You may kiss your bride.”
At that simple sentence, the world fell out from under me.
My mind instantly started swirling incessantly, like a category five hurricane ripping down all my safety walls and leaving me bare before my husband.
Liam is my husband.
I thought for sure Liam would hate the idea of kissing me, that there would be uncertainty in his eyes as he stepped forward, that he would want to get it over with. We’d never crossed that line before, after all.
But as I looked up into those green eyes, I saw none of that. Instead, there was something strange, a certain heat or passion in his gaze that I’d never seen before.
Before I could suck in a breath, Liam pressed his lips to mine.