5. Trace
TRACE
N ot much surprises me any longer, especially not after what we’ve been through in the past twenty-four hours, but seeing her? I’m fucking surprised. But I guess it’s ironic, too.
The best thing about having the one-night stand with the girl at the bar was knowing I wouldn’t have to see her again. The Universe is having a fucking field day with me; laughing its ass off at what I assumed was going to be a no-strings-attached sexual encounter.
It’s written plain as day across her face that she's surprised as well. She actually stops in the middle of the aisle before, somehow, she makes herself continue walking toward me. Once she stands in front of me, I know there’s no going back.
Not that there was ever really a choice.
I guess last night was—it felt like one—and I chose her. What I thought was a last rebellion against my parents seems as if it’s going to turn into the rest of my life. This whole ceremony has gone on without me paying any attention until I hear those magic words. I don’t remember agreeing to cherish and love her for the rest of our lives, don’t recall them saying anything about for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health. None of that brings me out of my thoughts. But this does.
I desperately want to relive the passion we had in those stolen moments. I never thought I’d have it again; now I get to have it in front of our nearest and dearest.
"You may now kiss your bride."
I use the hand we’re holding to pull her into me. With my free one, I lift the veil—that’s when a little bit of last night makes me want to be better with her than I first intended to. Once the veil is out of the way, I cup her jawline in my palm and tilt her head up, toward me.
When I look into her eyes, I see the woman from last night. The one who rode me with abandon and responded so openly in the backseat of my truck. She leans into me at the same time I bend down to her. Our lips meet in an explosion of the same chemistry we had hours before. This once-in-a-lifetime desire we experienced, I assumed I would never feel again, is now going to be sleeping next to me every night.
"May I now present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Trace Miller."
Turning to face the crowd, we stand for a moment as they clap and whistle for us. Why these people are excited, I have no idea. Ninety-five percent of them don’t even personally know me. But I do notice Cain and Marissa sitting in the second row. Cain's face looks how I imagine mine does: shock, awe, and a grim realization. Nothing is ever going to be the same again.
Together, we head down the aisle until we’re past the double doors. They shut behind us.
“Where do we go?” I ask the woman wearing the headset and holding a clipboard.
“You’re in there,” she points to a door off to the side.
I drag her in, holding tightly to her hand. When we step inside, the wedding planner tries to follow, but I slam the door in her face before locking it. We’re alone in the room, the only sound our breathing.
“Katherine, huh?” I start, putting my hands at my hips. I try not to notice the way the lace hugs her arms, or the dress tucks in at her waist—the waist I held onto as I moved her up and down on my cock.
“I prefer Katie,” she answers on a hushed whisper. “Not that they’ve ever cared.”
Running a hand through my hair, I exhale loudly. “There’s a lot going on here, Katie. Do you actually know who you were supposed to marry today?”
“Ward. Where is he?” She questions, her eyes full of confusion.
A sardonic chuckle works its way out of my chest. “You're going to pretend like you don't know? You’re a really good liar.”
Her head snaps back as if I’ve slapped her. “You don’t know anything about me. Don’t call me a liar.”
Walking toward her, I advance until her back is against the opposite wall. Leaning down so we’re a breath apart, I say, “I know a lot about you, Katherine. The way your pussy tightens around my fingers when you’re about to come, the noise you make when you finally let go, and the way you taste when my tongue hits the roof of your mouth. So I wouldn’t say I don’t know anything about you.”
Her chest is rising and falling with the shallow breaths my words have caused. Her tits, encased in something that’s pushing them up and over the top of the dress. “If I hadn’t met you last night, I’d believe you were really this much of an asshole.”
“Your words supposed to hurt me? I’m not even supposed to be here,” my teeth are gritted as I push the words out.
“What do you mean you aren’t supposed to be here?”
“Did you see the news this morning?”
She shakes her head, a frown working across her face. “No, my appointment for my hair and makeup was early. After last night, I slept as long as I could, and then I’ve been going. Haven’t had time to look and see if I have text messages, much less take a look at the news. I truly have no idea what you’re talking about.”
There’s a knock at the door.
“We need the two of you to come out and greet your guests. They’re getting restless.”
The guests can fuck off for all I care, but I know this means a lot to my parents, and by extension me. If Ward’s death is to be in vain, there’s no reason for this.
“C’mon.” I motion for her with my fingers. “Put a goddamn smile on your face and let’s go give our parents what they paid for.”
Her face goes white at my words. “Then let’s not keep our adoring fans waiting.”
Katie
As we approach the dining room where our reception is being held, I hold onto the smile I’ve pasted across my face. It won’t leave my face for the rest of the night. I’ll make sure of it. No one will see the regret I’m already beginning to feel.
“Please welcome to the dance floor Mr. and Mrs. Miller!”
It’s amazing how this would appear to be a real wedding to anyone looking from the outside in. If I were a guest, I’d think we were happy—if not a little shy. There would be so many ways I’d try to talk myself out of wondering why everything seems just a little off.
The song we hit the dance floor to is one I’ve never heard before, but obviously Trace has. He pulls me into him.
“Keep the smile on your face and look at me like you adore me. This was my brother’s favorite song.”
I don’t know exactly what that means, but I’m willing to do what he needs me to. Judging by the darkness that went across his face, it does mean something to him.
He wraps his arms around my waist; I put mine up to his neck. We sway to the slow rhythm, until it’s over and then we’re called to a table set for us. The rest of the night passes in a blur. We smile for pictures, eat food that others told me was great, delicately feed cake to each other, and then share a glass of champagne.
When we leave, it’s through an arch of sprinklers. Holding up my dress, I come to a stop when I see it’s his truck from last night. When I got home I couldn’t find my panties, and I wonder if they’re still where I left them. After he helps me in the side, I reach in the back, where I know they probably are. My fingers find the lace, circling my hand around the delicate material. I pull it up and put it in my lap.
After a few moments, he gets into the driver’s seat, putting it in gear, and away we go.
“Where are we going?”
He inhales deeply. “To the hotel room my dad procured for us tonight. We’ll head to the ranch tomorrow, after the funeral.”
“What funeral?”
He grips the steering wheel, his knuckles white. “I can’t believe no one’s told you what the hell happened.”
Turning so I can see him a little better, I try my best to explain to him how my life has been. “I’m always the last to know everything. They’ve always wanted me to be the little girl the world doesn’t touch. Stay as innocent as possible so I’ll make a good wife for you. That was my most important job. When I say no one tells me anything, I mean it. Why don’t we start this marriage off the right way? Why don’t you tell me what I need to know?”
He clears his throat. “See, this is where I have a really important decision to make. Do I treat you the way my dad and all his friends have treated their wives over the years? Give you info on a need-to-know basis, or consider you a partner in every sense of the word? Do we play this as a real marriage, or will this be in name only? To be honest, I hadn’t given it much thought because I’d planned to stay single my entire life.” He runs a hand through his hair. "So what is it that I'm supposed to do with you?"
My stomach flips as his words work their way into my subconscious.
Stupid me, I guess I never really thought about what would happen when the ring was on my finger. Although I’ve been coached on how to be the perfect ranch wife, no one told me what would be expected of me after the marriage, how I would be treated by my new husband. Truth is, I never gave it any thought either.
"You treat her like your goddamn wife," a deep voice says from beside us.
It's Marissa and Cain.
"Fuck off, Cain. Neither one of you were used as a bargaining chip."
"You're right, Trace, but what we have had to do is fight for our marriage."
They walk away and I gaze over at my husband.
"I know Marissa, I know they've had issues. If you're really asking me what you're supposed to do with me? Treat me like your wife. I want a real marriage, like theirs. It's hard, messy, but it's worth fighting for."
He sighs heavily. "Who knows if we'll ever get there, but if that's what you want. That's what we'll do."