Chapter Thirteen
Marcus
Time has actually stopped.
Or maybe it’s going backward, I’m not sure. It’s certainly not going forward. I’d bet my life on it.
I force myself not to run up and down the aisle like a headless rabbit and instead grit my teeth and glance at the woman standing to my side, who gives a nervous smile.
“Stop glaring at the celebrant,” Caesar says. “It’s not her fault.”
I glare at him instead. “How long do we let this go on for?”
“She’s coming,” he says softly. “It’s only just gone three. Patience is a virtue, Mars.”
I murmur something rude under my breath, and he chuckles.
“Have some faith,” he says, clapping me on the back.
I don’t say anything. I feel nauseous, and I have to keep taking deep breaths.
I watch the ribbons fluttering on the pagoda where Wren and I are supposed to say our vows. The guests are quiet, murmuring amongst themselves from the white chairs on the lawn.
My mother, sitting in the front row next to Tina Carter, winks at me and gives a thumbs up.
She doesn’t look worried. She has a flower pinned behind her ear that contrasts with her red hair, and she looks beautiful in a summer pink dress and matching high-heeled sandals.
She’s been amazing this week, in her element as she made sure everything was organized for the wedding.
I was pleased to be able to do this for her, to be the first one to settle down and be happy. And now… my nausea rises again.
At some point, I just know my father is going to exit the house and approach us to announce that Wren has done a runner, and the wedding won’t be going ahead.
I can see it in my mind’s eye. Dad’s quiet reveal, “She’s gone.
” Whispers spreading among the guests as the news spreads.
Some of them quietly taking photos to capture my shock and humiliation.
My own crushing devastation as I realize we won’t be married, and I’ve lost her.
Any minute now…
Caesar adjusts my boutonniere, his brows drawing together as he looks at my expression. Then he glances over my shoulder, and he smiles. “Told you,” he says.
My head snaps around just as the four-piece band begins playing the Beatles’ Here, There, and Everywhere. My father is approaching the aisle. But he’s not alone.
I inhale sharply, my heart banging on my ribs.
They walk slowly up the aisle while the guests turn to look at the bride.
I’ve heard women described as radiant before, but I’ve never understood what it meant until now.
I knew she wouldn’t be wearing a meringue.
She didn’t want to be a Disney princess.
I knew her dress would be something understated.
But I’m completely unprepared for how stunning she looks in the simple, lace-covered gown.
My panic takes a moment to dissipate, but it starts to fade as Dad walks with her, already more protective and supportive than her own father ever was. Something shifts inside me as he kisses her cheek, and then he goes to sit with Mum, leaving Wren with me.
She stands in front of me and looks up with her big blue eyes. The last of the panic drops, replaced by something else entirely. A dawning sense of disbelief.
She came.
She’s really going to marry me.
I can hardly believe it.
The celebrant begins speaking. “Kia hora te marino, kia whakapapa pounamu te moana, kia tere te kārohirohi i mua i tō huarahi. May peace be widespread, may the sea glisten like greenstone, and may the shimmer of light guide your path.” She smiles.
“Welcome everyone to the wedding of Marcus and Wren.”
That’s it; I hardly hear the rest of the ceremony. It passes instead in a series of images. The sound of the violins drifting across the grass. The call of tui birds and fantails as they come to watch the ceremony from the trees. Wren’s small smile as she repeats my name for the vows.
And then the feel of her hand in mine as I slide the ring onto her finger.
My eyes meet hers. Our gazes lock, and it’s as if someone has attached jump leads to us. A jolt shoots through me, and I can see it’s had the same effect on her.
She’s mine.
Something settles inside me. I’m never letting her go.
“I now pronounce you man and wife,” the celebrant says. She smiles. “You may kiss the bride.”
Wren’s eyes flare as I move toward her. I slide a hand to the nape of her neck, heart racing.
“My wife,” I murmur.
Her eyelids flutter. Her pink lips shine in the sunlight. I study them for a few seconds, and she moistens them with the tip of her tongue. Smiling, I dip my head and kiss her. Everyone cheers, and I hear Caesar say, “All right, bro. Get a room.”
I ignore him. I’ve waited ten years for this. I wrap my arms around her and continue to kiss her, holding her tightly until everyone starts laughing and whistling. When we finally break apart, she’s flushed and smiling, and I’m the happiest man in the world.
*
The rest of the day blurs into one long, enjoyable party. There’s food, and champagne, and speeches, and I hold Wren in my arms and look into her eyes as we have the first dance, with everyone watching.
I note every little detail about her appearance.
The way her creamy skin shows through the lace on her bodice.
How the ribbons on the circlet that rests on her blonde hair lift in the summer breeze.
The smell of her perfume, something light and flowery, stirring my senses. I can’t take my eyes off her.
All evening, I watch her dancing, and greeting guests, and all I can think about is how it’s going to feel to be able to kiss her properly, and touch her the way a husband touches his wife.
It’s only as the evening wears on that I begin to suspect something’s awry.
Wren is happy—when she’s talking to everyone else.
She hugs my father, kisses my mother repeatedly, and laughs with Aurelia and her friends.
But as soon as I go near her, her spine stiffens, her breathing quickens, and she falls quiet.
With some envy, I watch her sitting, talking to Caesar. She’s relaxed, using that teasing tone I love so much, reminiscing about something that happened when they were at uni. Their familiarity and friendship make my hands curl into fists. Why isn’t she like that with me?
I ask her to dance a few times, but she’s like a statue in my arms, a smile pinned to her face that doesn’t reach her eyes. I try to pry conversation out of her, but she murmurs short answers, and in the end I let her go back to her friends, the old panic rising inside me again.
It grows dark, and the fairy lights flicker, and the solar lamps glow around the edges of the lawn.
Champagne flows like water, and as the hours tick by, I watch her drink glass after glass.
I don’t think she realizes how much she’s drinking.
She’s enjoying herself, though, dancing on the grass with Aurelia and her friends, and nobody else seems to have noticed that her smile falters whenever she looks at me, and her hand trembles when she picks up her glass for another mouthful.
Midnight finds me standing at the edge of the garden, watching Wren twirling in the center of the lawn. She looks like a fairy caught in a spell, doomed to dance for all eternity.
“It’s twelve,” Caesar says from beside me. “Are you heading off soon?”
I nod.
He hesitates. Then he adds, “Are you okay?”
“Yep.”
He follows my gaze, and we watch Wren bump into one of the marquee poles and giggle. Caesar laughs. “She’s merry,” he says.
“Yeah.” I watch her tip up her glass and frown to find it empty.
He looks at me. “You’ve got it bad,” he comments. “You haven’t taken your eyes off her all evening.”
I don’t reply, and he smirks.
“Nervous about the wedding night?” he asks. “Need a few tips?”
I throw him a wry look, and he chuckles. “I’ll get Tane to bring the car round.” He walks off.
I finish off my drink and leave the glass on a nearby table, then walk to the middle of the lawn. She’s still twirling, but she stops and stumbles as I reach out and hold her hand. I catch her, sliding an arm around her waist. She’s soft against me, but I feel her stiffen as I pull her close.
Frustrated, I make sure she’s steady, then release her. “Time to go,” I tell her.
She blinks and looks around. “But I want to stay. I’m dancing.”
She’d rather stay than be alone with me. “I can see that,” I say, gritting my teeth. “But it’s midnight, Cinderella, and everyone’s tired. Come on. The car’s waiting.”
Dad is gathering the remaining guests, and they form two rows, giving us hugs and kisses as we make our way toward the house.
I hug my mother, and she kisses my cheek. “You picked a lovely wife,” she murmurs. “Look after her.”
I kiss her forehead. “I intend to.”
“I think she’s a little overwhelmed.”
I glance at Wren, who’s hugging Aurelia. “Yeah.”
I assume I’m hiding the hurt I’m feeling, but Mum rubs my arm. “She’s nervous, Mars, that’s all. It’s difficult for her, this arrangement. Just be patient. She’s watched you all evening. She likes you a lot. But you Ashfords can be quite intimidating when you want to be.”
I stare at her. “Dad told you?”
She just smiles. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
There’s no time to process her words as everyone’s waiting for us to go.
“I’m so glad it went well,” Mum says, propelling me forward.
“It was amazing, thank you. See you after the honeymoon.”
“I hope you have a great time.”
I give her a last hug, collect Wren’s hand again, and lead her into the house, waving to everyone as we go.
Dad walks with us through to the front door, and we go out to where Tane is waiting with the car on the drive. A few guests in the process of leaving whistle and wave, and my lips curve up at the sight of the car covered with bows and a big sign that declares we’re Just Married.
“That was me,” Caesar states unnecessarily, appearing at my side.
“Thanks, bro.” We exchange a bearhug.
“She picked the right brother,” he murmurs in my ear, then releases me.