Fifteen
FIFTEEN
LEORA
I ’m getting married today.
I still can’t believe I agreed to this. The reality of the situation hits me in waves, each one more nerve-wracking than the last, and I’m unsure if I should try to escape the waves or let them engulf me.
With a deep breath, I finally force myself to rise and head to the bathroom to begin my preparations.
To my surprise, both Sophie and Adeline are standing there, one holding a bag filled with makeup and the other with a curling iron.
I come to a halt. "What are you doing? I thought you’d be packing."
"Do you think we would miss our best friend getting ready for her big day?" Sophie puts the curling iron on the bathroom floor before coming up to hug me.
"It’s not my big day."
"You’re getting married, real or fake. It’s an important day," Adeline points out.
Tears prick in my eyes, and my whole body, which was tense a few seconds ago, relaxes at seeing my best friends.
"Now, now, Habibti, don’t cry. Jump in the shower, and then we’ll help you get ready." Adeline wipes away a tear that escaped the corner of my eye.
"Okay." My voice comes out in a whisper, but I do as she says.
I step into the shower, letting the warm water wash away any traces of apprehension and doubt. I take one of those do-it-all-showers where you wash, scrub, and shave everywhere . Why exactly do I do it all? I don’t know. It’s honestly comical considering it’s not like I’m having a normal wedding night. No one is making sweet love tonight—especially not me.
While Sophie dries my hair, my mind drifts back to yesterday—a surprising and enjoyable day. The dinner with Antoine was delightful. He's undoubtedly the sweetest man I've ever met, emanating a sense of familiarity. There's a softness in his eyes that makes me feel secure, as if he sees something worthwhile in me.
The drive back home with Lucas wasn't entirely unpleasant either; in fact, it turned out to be quite good. Although it started with a bit of awkwardness and silence, he eventually initiated a conversation, trying to get to know me. During our talk, he displayed a sweetness that surprised me. He even smiled and, oh my god, his smile. It could only be described in one way: beautiful . No wonder he keeps it under lock and key. With a smile like that, he could take over the world but if I’m being honest, it’s better that way. Grumpy Lucas should be easier to resist; his scowl acts like a buffer. But smiling Lucas . . . that’s an entirely different story. Smiling Lucas makes me want things. Things I shouldn’t want from a man who’s essentially a stranger.
So, maybe it’s best if he stays rude and distant. It’s a defense mechanism. I get that. Deep down, I want to know his story, but I can’t. Being left in the unknown serves as a safeguard, preventing me from making foolish and reckless decisions, like starting to enjoy spending time with my husband.
I study my reflection in the mirror, thoroughly impressed with the girls' work. Adeline, the makeup guru, skillfully aimed for a soft, glowing, bronzed look, while Sophie, my hairstylist for the day, expertly crafted a curly half-up, half-down hairstyle.
Lastly, I slip on the pristine white dress I bought just two days ago. The midi length gracefully drapes over my frame, and the snug fit accentuates my curves, enhancing my figure. The bare shoulders add a touch of allure, completing the elegant look, and I find myself wondering if Lucas will see me as beautiful today, or at the very least, if he might find this whole arrangement a bit more bearable.
"Wow," Sophie says with a hand over her mouth, eyes glistening as she steps closer. "You look so beautiful."
"Do you think he’ll think so?" I cringe at the desperation in my voice.
I catch Adeline’s eye in the mirror as she furrows her brows slightly. "You don’t need his validation. You are absolutely gorgeous." She smiles. "However, I know he’ll think so too."
I gently take her hands in mine, squeezing a little bit—a silent thank you for her support.
"I wish this was real," Sophie adds, a hint of longing in her voice.
I do too.
"Don’t worry. It’s only going to be for about a year, then I’ll get back to my life and hopefully find a nice guy to marry for real. Then you two will be bridesmaids like you’re supposed to." I offer them a reassuring smile, which both return.
"So, what’s the plan for today?" Sophie asks.
"I‘m not entirely sure. He told me he would pick me up, and then we’d head to the town hall to get it over and done with. Afterward, I think we’re coming back here," I explain.
"Okay, so we’ll see you after?"
Oh , I thought they would be leaving for the airport soon.
I furrow my brow, asking, "Don’t you have a flight?"
The smile on Adeline’s face broadens. "We managed to switch to the evening flight."
I exhale, relief washing over me as a grateful smile plays on my lips. "I can’t believe you did this for me."
"Don’t be ridiculous." She laughs. "We tried to extend it further, but there are no flights tomorrow, and our jobs declined our requests for an extended vacation," Adeline huffs out the last part.
"It doesn’t matter. Just having you for a few more hours means everything to me."
As happy as I am at this moment, realization seeps in.
I’ll be completely alone after this evening.
While I wait for Lucas to arrive, I try to distract myself by taking in my surroundings.
The lobby is bustling with activity as guests check in and out of the hotel. As I watch them, I try to imagine their stories—the tired family with kids in tow, the couple who look like they're celebrating something special, the businessman tapping away on his phone like the world depends on it.
But my mind keeps going back to Lucas. Every so often, my gaze drifts towards the entrance. It's like a reflex, really. I tell myself it's because I'm eager to get this over with, but deep down, there's a little flutter of nerves that I can't ignore. Is he going to act like he did yesterday? Will he smile some more? Maybe I'll just crack a joke to see if he's capable of it.
Finally, I catch a glimpse of a familiar figure making his way toward me.
It's him, looking every bit as dashing as I'd expected—he exudes an air of authority. He's dressed in a sharp, black suit paired with a crisp white dress shirt, and to complete the look, a stylish, black bow tie. He looks so handsome.
As he gets closer, I remind myself that this is just a business deal—a transaction. But no matter how hard I try, my heart seems to skip a beat or two.
It’s because of the situation we’re in, I tell myself over and over again.
His face is expressionless, devoid of any emotion or warmth. They say "don’t judge a book by its cover, " but he’s like a book without any damn pages: expressionless and unreadable. I was secretly hoping for a smile, a small sign of approval, but I guess that’s too much to ask for.
However, he proves me wrong when he reaches me. He greets me with a small, yet soft, smile. "You look beautiful." This time, his compliment sounds genuine.
"Thank you." I smile at him. "You look quite handsome yourself."
"Are you ready?" he asks. I quickly nod and together, we walk towards his car.
We make our way to the town hall, the silence in the car almost suffocating. I try to break it up with some small talk but it’s like trying to empty the ocean with a teaspoon. Lucas seems lost in his thoughts. His jaw is clenched so tightly, I half expect to hear the sound of grinding teeth.
I glance at him, concerned and uncertain about everything. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he sighs deeply and speaks, "I never thought it would come to this." The strain in his voice is evident. I've been so immersed in my own feelings that I forgot about him. He must be grappling with a whirlwind of emotions as well.
"Neither did I."
He nods, but the tension remains and the silence continues. I take a moment to study him out of the corner of my eye, noticing the lines of worry etched on his face and the way his hands hold the steering wheel with a white-knuckled grip.
When we arrive, the gravity of the situation hits me. This is it—the moment when everything changes, whether it’s for show or not.
We sit for a moment, staring at the imposing building, and just as I’m about to open the door, Lucas stops me, his hand gently touching my arm.
"Wait." He reaches into his suit pocket and pulls out a box. "I asked Camille to return to the jewelry store and find a more suitable ring for you."
Ah, yes, the grump is back. But seriously, why didn't he just go get the ring himself? Before I have time to ask him, he distracts me by opening the box. I blink in surprise at the sight of the solitaire ring nestled inside, the same one that caught my eye in the store.
How in the world did she know?
I shake my head, pulling myself together. "It’s beautiful, but I like the one I have on."
He doesn’t seem satisfied with my answer. His lips purse, a furrow knitting his brows as he grabs my hand and demands attention.
"Leora, be serious for a second. You can’t genuinely prefer that small one over this."
I clench my jaw to keep from blurting out something I might regret. The idea that he assumes I’d favor the bigger, more expensive one grates on my nerves—even though I adore the ring he’s holding.
I pull my hand away from his, irritation making my voice sharp. "I like mine."
"Leora." He grits his teeth in frustration.
"Lucas," I fire back, locking eyes with him. It’s like a battle of wills, and right now, I’m standing my ground.
And in the end, I win.
"Suit yourself," he grumbles as he steps out of the car and walks around to open my door. The gesture has become quite endearing, but at this moment, my irritation overrules any swooning sentiment. I intentionally ignore his outstretched hand and step out of the car. I don’t need his help, thank you very much.
We walk through the big double doors of the town hall, this time I allow his hand to take mine. It’s almost comical, like we’re trying to convince the world that " the lovebirds are here," even though that’s nowhere near the truth.
The hallway that greets us is beautiful, with high ceilings and hardwood floors that echo our footsteps. Lucas stays by my side, guiding me through the doors where the dimly lit room is tucked away. At the front of the room, a man—probably the mayor—is seated, his presence commanding. Beside him stands an older woman, whom the mayor explains will be our witness since we didn’t bring our own. Had I known the girls would stay beforehand, I might have insisted on bringing them. But on the other hand, I’m a little bit relieved they’re not here. This isn’t real. In the future, they’ll witness the real deal, not some warped wedding ceremony in the name of business.
Lucas wraps an arm around me and grins as he confesses that we were so eager to get hitched that we forgot about the whole "witness thing."
The woman eyes us with curiosity and maybe a hint of admiration, as if she’s in awe of our love. As if the sweet, innocent couple in front of her is so in love, nothing could come between them. Oh, if she only knew.
When the time for the ceremony finally comes, we stand before the mayor, facing each other. Lucas takes my hands in his, and I meet his gaze. It’s strange how his eyes seem softer now, when just moments ago they could have drilled holes into me.
The mayor clears his throat. "Nous sommes réunis ici aujourd'hu?—"
"En anglais, s'il vous pla?t," Lucas interrupts, gesturing towards me, indicating that I’m the one in need of translations.
"Bien s?r, je suis désolé." He nods, before continuing in English. "We’re gathered here today to celebrate the union of two people who have chosen to join their lives together in marriage. It is a joyous occasion, filled with happiness and hope for the future," the mayor starts, sounding like he’s reciting lines from a well-worn script.
"Today marks the beginning of a new journey—a journey that will be filled with love, commitment, and companionship. As we witness the union of Lucas Ayoub and Leora Davis, we are reminded of the beauty of love and the power it holds. May they find joy, fulfillment, and strength in each other’s company, and may their love continue to grow and thrive for years to come."
A giggle escapes me before I can stop it and I instantly catch the daggers Lucas shoots my way forcing me to bite my lower lip, squelching the laughter. As I glance up again, his dark eyes remain unyielding, but something has shifted. There’s now a strange tension between us. A quiver of anticipation courses through me at the intensity of his gaze, making my heart race with a mixture of fear and an odd desire to challenge him further. I’ve never felt boldness like this before, and in a way, I like what it’s doing to me.
"Lucas, do you take Leora to be your lawfully wedded wife?" the mayor prompts, peering over his glasses.
"I do," Lucas responds, his tone devoid of any romantic sentiment.
"Leora, do you take Lucas to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
It’s my turn. I take a deep breath, focusing on the big picture. This is for my future.
"I do."
"I now pronounce you husband and wife." I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s finally over. "You may kiss the bride."
Kiss? The word echoes in my head like a dreadful chant. Oh no, the kiss. How did I forget that part? We’re supposed to touch . . . with our lips!
I sneak a glance at Lucas, and his uncertainty mirrors mine. He looks even less interested in kissing me than I do him. I didn't think that was possible.
How are we even going to do this? The only lips I’ve been kissing for the past five years have been John’s. What if those are the only lips I know how to kiss? What if I’m a terrible kisser? I can’t have him hold that against me later on.
My gaze lingers on his lips. They're full and perfect, almost too perfect, with a cupid's bow that I find myself envying. I can't help but wonder how they would feel against mine, how he would kiss me. Would it be controlled, like him? Powerful and assertive? He steps closer, his chest brushing against mine. Heat blooms where our bodies touch and his hand cups my cheek. I lean into his touch, my body craving any sort of contact, in stark contrast to my conflicted thoughts. It feels like time slows as he leans down, his lips brushing mine in a quick, chaste kiss. Then, just as suddenly, he pulls away, avoiding my gaze.
Well, that was . . . underwhelming.
For a fleeting moment, I wish that touch, that connection, could have lasted just a tiny bit longer.
"Are we done here?" Lucas's voice cuts through the air, abrupt and impatient. His gaze flickers, almost as if he slipped up, revealing a vulnerability beneath the facade he's been maintaining. In an attempt to regain control, he manages a strained smile, "I promised we'd meet up with my uncle."
When we return to the hotel, a cluster of four people wielding cameras sprints towards us. My initial response is to shield my face, caught off-guard by the onslaught. Despite the chaos, Lucas stands tall, his grip on my hand tightening, providing a grounding touch.
"How did they find out?" Lucas mutters, more to himself than to me, his brows knitting in genuine confusion.
I had assumed he and his uncle were well-known, but not to this point. Is it because of their wealth? Their business? Or is it simply because Lucas is one of the most sought-after bachelors?
Correction: was . He was a bachelor, before me.
The paparazzi are loud, their voices blending into an incomprehensible cacophony. I'm not sure if it's the language or the situation that renders me unable to fully grasp what's happening.
"Monsieur Ayoub."
"Regarde ici!"
"Souriez pour la caméra." The pleas from the paparazzi are almost drowned out by the chaotic noise of shutters and shouts and they move even closer, crowding us against the car. My whole body freezes. It doesn't feel safe. I find myself instinctively leaning into Lucas, seeking refuge in his protective presence. To my surprise, Lucas's arms wrap protectively around me, guiding me to stand behind him. The gesture catches me off guard. His large presence is shielding me from them.
"Pardon." One of the paparazzi pushes the others to take a few steps back. "Une photo s'il vous pla?t."
Lucas stiffens a bit. He hates this too.
He turns around to face me. "Are you okay?" As I look into his dark eyes, I feel safe, so I nod.
His arms circle behind my back, pulling me back to stand next to him. He smiles, but his eyes betray a hint of discomfort.
"One photo, then my wife and I will need some alone time." Hearing the phrase " my wife" on his lips leaves me feeling a certain way, making me comply immediately, as I attempt to muster a smile for the camera amidst the blinding flashes. He's holding me close to his body, my hand on his chest. We maintain our connection, gazing into each other's eyes. The intensity of the flashes briefly blur my vision, yet, I focus on him, and as quickly as it began, it's over.
Lucas thanks them, his tone polite but with an undertone of reservation, and then we start walking towards the entrance, his grip on my hand remaining reassuring.
"What was that?" I murmur to him, still shocked by the whole scene.
"It doesn’t happen very often, someone must have tipped them off," Lucas replies cryptically, leaving me with more questions than answers.
Who would have tipped them off?
What the hell have I married into? I wonder as we make our way into the hotel.
I’m someone’s wife. How the hell did that happen? How did I go from being cheated on to standing here as someone's wife?
Here we are, married and steeped in mutual discomfort. It’s like we both got handed a script for a rom-com, but we can’t decide if we’re the protagonists or the comic relief.
At least I have Antoine on my side. I like him. I think he’ll help us navigate this and help us get along for the year.
We reach the hotel lobby, and Antoine is there to welcome us with his infectious cheer. He bursts into a song that sounds vaguely familiar but I can’t quite place it. His arms are wide open, and I can’t help but smile at his genuine excitement.
"Mabrouk Mabrouk ya hayat albi Mabrouk," he sings, and I catch snippets of the words, realizing they’re Arabic for congratulations . His arms engulf me in a warm, fatherly hug. It’s an embrace that feels foreign, yet comforting, and I allow myself to savor the feeling of it.
"I finally have a daughter-in-law," he says as he pulls away. I blink rapidly, straightening my posture and swallowing down the unexpected surge of emotions. I can’t afford to get emotional now. If I do, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.
"Thank you, Antoine," I manage to say, my voice slightly hoarse.
He hugs Lucas as well before turning to both of us, mischief twinkling in his eyes. "I might have done something."
I can practically see Lucas’s patience running thin which I find confusing. How could anyone be upset with this man?
"What did you do?" his tone is wary, like he’s bracing himself.
"I might have invited some people," he admits, wearing a sheepish look as he continues, "stakeholders, investors, and friends for a surprise wedding lunch." As he shares the news, his eyes flicker with a mix of excitement and hesitation.
"Ammo," Lucas warns, his voice dropping an octave. Antoine shrugs nonchalantly. "Well, I thought it would be nice to celebrate you getting married. Plus, it's good for business, no?"
Lucas massages his temples and takes a deep breath, as if trying to contain his frustration. I can tell he's not happy about the surprise, but he also doesn't want to cause a scene in the middle of the hotel lobby.
"Fine, but I hope you kept it low-key. We don't need a big fuss." Lucas finally concedes.
Antoine beams triumphantly. "Of course, mon fils . You’ll love it, you'll see." He turns around and walks away, expecting us to follow.
"I doubt that," Lucas mutters under his breath as he places his warm hand on my upper back, urging me to move forward. The contact leaves a swirl of conflicting emotions. Confusion mingles with intrigue, leaving me momentarily caught off guard before continuing to walk.