18. “Illumination” - Jennifer Thomas #2
Henry squeezes my trembling hand. “You got this,” he whispers. It has an unexpected stabilizing effect on me, and the realization hits me like a ton of bricks: I’m relieved I’m not doing this alone.
We face the front and read the Preface with the congregation.
During the hymns, the Scripture reading, and the wedding address, my mind drifts.
When it’s my turn to recite my vows, I’m surprised to hear myself speaking the words after the minister, promising to love Henry for as long as we both live. Will God forgive my lie?
The rest of the ceremony commences, but I don’t hear what is read.
I kneel to pray at the appropriate time, exchange rings with my new husband, sign my name on the marriage certificate, and walk back down the aisle, but it holds as much meaning as brushing my teeth.
The only way to survive this is to block it out.
The rain has stopped by the time we get outside, and the crowd goes wild as we step through the doors.
We stand at the top of the steps for a few minutes for photos.
My hand is wrapped in Henry’s, and I force my lips to curl into a smile.
After all, I’m doing this for the citizens of Wesbourne, and they want a picture of a beaming princess on her wedding day.
No one cares if the princess doesn’t want to be there.
Something like a chant rises up from the throng of people. “What are they saying?” I ask.
“They want us to kiss.” The weight of Henry’s eyes is heavy as he watches me. “What do you think? Should we give them what they want?”
My smile falters, but I save it just in time. I don’t look at him. “Not on your life,” I say through my grin.
“Why not? Afraid you’d like it?”
“On the contrary, I’m confident I wouldn’t.”
“That’s not what your body said the other day,” he murmurs quietly.
That same body betrays me by flooding with heat. “That’s where you’re wrong.”
“You forget, I am very familiar with the female body,” he says. “Besides, you owe it to the people. They’re here to see you. The least you can do is give them what they came for.”
That’s what I’m doing by posing for these insipid pictures and pretending to be a blushing bride whispering sweet nothings to her husband. At least this conversation is making the blush authentic.
The crowd refuses to let up. If anything, their enthusiasm is growing. Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her!
Bloody hell. The last thing I want is a big scene. I dart a quick glance at Henry, which is the wrong thing to do, because my body begins its own chant. Damn that jawline of his.
Guilt kicks me in the stomach. Even if Beck isn’t watching the live broadcast, he will certainly see the coverage later. I can’t do that to him.
I straighten my spine. “Not happening.”
My smile melts under the inferno of the chants, like an ice cream cone on a hot July day. If we wait long enough, they will eventually give up.
The crowd, however, does not take the hint. Instead, they increase in momentum and volume, now adding clapping to their raucous chants.
“They’re undeterred,” Henry says, as if I’m a toddler, illiterate to social cues.
If I give in, at least they’ll stop yelling, and we can be released from this mortifying situation. I can deal with the fallout. We’re married now. A tiny peck won’t destroy anything.
“Fine,” I say through my teeth. “But make it quick. None of that stuff you pulled last time.”
He grins and angles his body toward me. The people start to go wild. Wolf whistles and cheers ricochet through the air as Henry cups my face in his large hands. My heart begins a high-speed chase with itself the instant his skin touches mine.
Slowly, he bends over until his lips catch mine, then lead them in a soft, sensual dance. He slips one hand behind me and swings me backwards, much to the pleasure of the crowd.
It’s a gentle kiss, the kind you’d expect on a first date. He raises me back up and smiles, a taffy-sweet smile that’s only for me. I know this because it’s not on his mouth but folded into the creases around his eyes, where only I can see it. And just for a second, I see the Henry I used to know.
Despite the fact that this was a public kiss between mature adults rather than two lust-driven teenagers making out under the bleachers at a soccer game, it still leaves me breathless. For a span of five seconds, I existed in the center of the rainbow.
“You just became even more envied and adored than you already were,” he says. “You’re welcome.”
He releases me back into a world now drained of color.
Our limo pulls away from the curb, the cheers still audible through the bulletproof glass. Henry twists the shiny gold band on his ring finger. “Well, we did it. You okay?”
I stare out the window. The trees are drooping, heavy from the rain, and their leaves glisten with droplets of water that dribble to the ground in synchronized movements. The earth is soggy with their offerings.
“I will be,” I say quietly.
Silence hangs in the air like a forgotten melody, thick and oppressive, keeping peace just out of reach. I sense Henry’s fidgeting in the seat beside me.
“C.” That single letter holds concern.
“I’m fine.”
“We did the right thing.”
“Did we?”
“Of course we did.”
“Beck wanted me to run away with him.”
Henry’s quiet for a few moments, then: “Did you consider it?”
“Yes.” I trace the trail of a raindrop on the window.
“What stopped you?”
“My father.”
“Hey.” Henry reaches for my hand, which has unwittingly clasped my bracelet. “Your father would have been proud of whichever decision you made.”
“You don’t know that.”
“He loved you more than anything.” Henry stops, and I hear him swallow. “I often wished—”
I move my head just enough to see him in my peripheral vision. “You wished what?” I ask when he doesn’t continue.
“It’s stupid. But sometimes when I was younger, I wished he were my dad.”
I tug my hand back into my lap. “At least your father is still alive.”
“As if that’s any better,” he mutters.
I swivel to face him. “Maybe if you’d try to make him proud instead of only thinking about yourself, you’d have a better relationship.”
Henry’s fist tightens into a hard ball, turning his knuckles pale. “You don’t know the first thing about my relationship with my father.”
“That doesn’t give you the right to compare your pain to mine.”
He punches the leather upholstery, which lets out a small puff of air. “That’s not what I was trying to do.”
“Forgive me. Your intentions have always been impossible to read.” I feel the weight of his gaze but keep mine focused on the rain-sprinkled window.
“Is this about the kiss?”
“Wow, mind reading. What other skills do you have?”
“C, what choice did we have? It would have been worse to ignore the crowd.”
“Not that kiss, you idiot.”
The car is silent as he processes this.
“I apologized for the other one,” he finally says.
“Why do men think an apology magically fixes everything?”
“I already told you, it was just a kiss.”
I gape at him. “That may have been ‘just a kiss’ to you, but it was highly inappropriate, considering I’m in love with someone else.”
“I’m confused. Are you mad at me or yourself?”
I slug his arm hard enough to send pain radiating through my hand. With lightning-fast reflexes, he catches my wrist. One quick tug and I’m practically in his lap. I pull back, but his fingers are like a manacle.
“Fine.” His eyes narrow with intensity. “That wasn’t just a kiss for me either. As a matter of fact, it was the best kiss I’ve ever had. And I’ve kissed a lot of women.” He releases his grip on me, and I tumble backward into my seat.
I haven’t had a lot of experience in that department. Beck and I were together for years, but kissing was never our thing. I didn’t even think I liked it much, not until the one in Henry’s office.
Of course it was the best kiss I’ve ever had. Henry is a pro—a thought that makes me crave a toothbrush. But the best he’s had? Bullshit.
“I imagine women usually fall for that line,” I say, rubbing my newly freed wrist.
“It’s not a line.”
“I think we can both agree it shouldn’t have happened,” I say. “And promise it never will again.”
“I have no regrets.” His turns his attention to the window. “And I’ll make no promises.”