4. Katie
KATIE
T he woman staring back at me could be on the cover of a magazine, or in one of those commercials for a bridal boutique. She looks absolutely gorgeous and not like I’ve ever imagined myself. My whole life I’ve been what I would describe as an ugly duckling, at least until I hit eighteen, and I was told I would be expected to be married on my twenty-first birthday.
The day after I enjoyed my cake and opened what appeared to be thoughtful gifts from my family, I was informed it was time for me to take my future seriously. Basically, my life was no longer mine; it was all about losing the chubby baby weight, getting a skincare routine, and making sure I dressed the part. No longer was I allowed to wear jeans with holes in the knee or t-shirts with a stain on them. Gone were my earrings with a little razzle dazzle of color and enamel. I was given one carat diamonds and told to not wear anything other than studs. Shoes had to be approved, and there would be no dying my hair any kind of different colors. Highlights only.
This would be my future, so it would also be my present.
Because of how I grew up, and what I looked like before I was molded into the perfect wife for a man who’s going to become the head of a multimillion-dollar ranch.
If I wasn’t living the life, I’d think this woman was ready for the perfect wedding. She looks as if she spent months, possibly years, planning this to perfection. Maybe she had these same dreams as a child, had cut out pictures from magazines, and pasted them into what would be her wedding album. If it were me looking from the outside in, I would think the person in the mirror had it all together. Her makeup is impeccable, her hair perfect, the wedding dress resembles the type most little girls dream of when they think about what their wedding dress will look like. It all appears to be a daydream come true. Minus the spot on my neck that had required more concealer. I still feel the unknown man between my thighs today. Part of it feels wrong. Marrying someone else when I was with someone last night. This is what little girls always want, right?
But this isn’t what I always wanted. Truth be told, until this moment, I haven’t actually thought about what I would want. I was never given the option. It’s what I was told I would have. If anyone were to ask me right now, I’d have to say my style is more Boho than traditional. I like my hair more wavy than in a severe up-do.
“Are you ready, Katherine?” my dad asks as he walks into the bridal suite. He’s always called me Katherine, to my much-preferred Katie.
It won’t help to tell him I’m not. Instead, I give him a smile. It doesn’t reach my eyes, and forcing it causes my skin to stretch in ways that aren’t normal. My neck and ears shine with diamonds that have been passed down in my family for years, a blue ring on my right hand, too. All of it is what any girl would want for her wedding day.
None of it matters.
This isn’t my wedding day. It’s a party for everyone who has shown up here this afternoon. My plan is to get through this and see if my soon-to-be husband is someone I’ll be able to commiserate with, or maybe I’ll spend my wedding night drinking. Who knows?
“As I’ll ever be,” I clear my throat, hoping it’ll take care of the tremble.
He tilts his head toward my bouquet. “You better get that, and we’ll head on out.”
I pick up the skirt of my dress, slowly walking over to where the flowers lay on a dresser. Once I get there, I pick them up, my fingers closing around the stems. A flashback to last night pushes through the nervousness of today. Out of nowhere, I see my fingers tight around the unknown man’s shirt as I rode him to completion. Closing my eyes, I shake my head to rid the image and try to focus on what I have to do today.
Turning to face my dad, I paste a smile on my face and grab hold of the arm he’s holding out to me. “Let’s go, Dad. I’m ready to start the rest of my life.”
God, that’s such a lie. If I practice enough, maybe I’ll start to believe it myself.
With my shoulders squared, I walk beside him to the doors leading to the sanctuary. It’s a moment of silence where I let my knees knock and my hands shake before the sound of The Wedding March can be heard and the doors open. The guests are all standing, and as I look out at them all, I don’t recognize any of them. None of these people are here for me. They’re here to see and be seen by both the old and new money of Montana. The altar is around a small curve in the aisle, and all I’m able to get a glimpse of is the top of the arbor. The man I’m marrying isn’t within vision distance yet, and the nerves are starting to kick in.
I focus my eyes on the aisle runner in front of me, taking note of the beautiful navy and mauve flowers leading my way to the man I’m going to marry. There’s been tension most of the day, and I’m ready to get this done and over with. Most women wouldn’t think this about their wedding day, but I’ve been so stressed with the day coming, I haven’t been able to sleep well in almost three weeks. Because I've been trying to get my head around having to marry Ward. He and I have never really liked each other, and I'm terrified.
When we round the curve, I come to a complete stop. It takes everything I have to keep my mouth from opening in shock, to keep the surprise off my face. Standing at the altar is the man I spent my last night of freedom with. This isn't Ward Miller. This is the last person I expected to see as the man I’m supposed to marry. Dad pulls on my arm in an effort to force my forward movement. One foot in front of the other is how I’ve managed to make it this far, so I continue with all I know how to do.
It’s a blur as I stand in front of the man who had his mouth on all my most sensitive, private spots last night. This isn't Ward—it was supposed to be Ward.
His blue eyes are bright and dark as he gazes at me. Dark bruises shadow underneath, and I’m wondering what happened to him after he left the bar last night. It looks as if he hasn’t slept at all. What the fuck has happened? He’d mentioned something about leaving in the morning. How did he end up here? How did we end up together, standing at this altar in front of all these people I’m sure neither of us really know?
“Who here gives this woman to this man?”
I’ve blurred out this entire process so far; hopefully, I’ll be able to sit with my feelings later and figure out how I’m supposed to deal.
“Her mother and I do,” my father answers, putting my hand in my soon-to-be husband’s. Looking down at the hand, giving mine away, I try to remember the last time it touched me with the love of a father for his daughter. Did he ever clean my wounds as a child and kiss my hurts away? He never waited at the front door when I went on the rare date (before I was told the deal made), ready to scare whatever boy cared to ask me out.
The man standing across from me takes my hand and I gasp loudly.
The same passion from our previous encounter sparks between us. Like arcs of electricity, barely able to hold in the magnetic attraction. The preacher says a lot of words that don’t apply to us. Ones of love, respect, cherishing your partner, and taking care of each other through sickness and health. We don’t even know each other’s names.
“Do you, Katherine, take Trace to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
Trace. Ward's older brother. The one I’ve never met, but everyone at Azure Ridge knew his name.
My gaze maps every one of his features—somehow they’re more comfortable to me than my father’s. From his blue, almost black eyes, to the slight crookedness of his nose and the scar on his cheek. None of this I noticed last night, probably because I figured we’d never see each other again, and I’d not have to know all of these pieces of the man standing in front of me.
When I realize I haven’t said anything yet, I look at the preacher. Without thinking, I say the word I know I’m supposed to. “I do.”
He repeats the rest of it to the man across from me, and all too soon we’re told to kiss—which was my favorite thing about last night. The way his mouth devoured mine, how I wasn’t able to think in the minutes he spent heating me up before he doused the flames with his body.
My heart pounds as I think of the passion we shared with our previous kisses. A huge part of me wants it to be the same right here; another part of me is scared it will be. Chemistry like that burns hot, but also out quick.
We have a lifetime to go, and if we burn out in the next few years, it’s going to be a lonely reminder of what we could’ve had. As he takes me into his arms to give me a kiss, I don’t know what to pray for. Either good or bad, I’ve just confirmed my deal with the devil.