Chapter 13
GRIFFIN
The man who never wanted to be married is standing in front of the cheesiest altar I have ever seen.
I'm almost embarrassed to have Beckett here. The setup is the ultimate in tackiness—Velcro chiffon drapery, plastic flowers, and a smell that is distinctly pine cleaner masking regret. But somehow, this was the only twenty-four-hour wedding facility in New York that didn’t feel desperate.
The only thing that isn't tacky in this place is my bride.
Selena is wearing a simple white satin gown with pearl buttons running from her bodice down to her slightly flared skirt.
Cap sleeves complete the retro nineteen-fifties look.
I marvel at her effortless beauty. Her hair is pinned in soft curls, and she has applied light, perfect makeup—something she rarely wears.
I watched her get dressed this morning, sitting at the vanity in my bathroom.
She transformed from a gorgeous country girl to a high-society wife in a matter of minutes.
She's too good for this place. And frankly, she’s too good for me. But she has adopted a bright, brittle attitude regarding the situation. Fueled by nerves, Selena has been almost too perky.
Scarlett, bless her, picked up on Selena’s "fake it until you make it" vibe immediately. She has Beckett making gentle fun of my wedding to keep the mood light. Now, Selena has something real to smile about—Scarlett and Selena are instant friends.
I glance at Scarlett's beautiful pregnant belly and realize she's much farther along than Beckett let on. He never told me they were this close to popping.
“So when were you going to tell me you were about to explode?” I chide Beckett before the wedding planner calls our names.
“You’re always so judgy,” he throws back at me.
I glance at Selena, who looks a little worried by our banter.
“And I didn’t think you cared, to be honest. To you, one baby is a crime against humanity, and we’re about to have four.
Scarlett even tossed around the idea of you being a Godfather, but I struck it down.
Children are definitely not your thing.”
It feels like he’s piling on, but I deserve the ribbing.
“We all have our things. Children just aren’t mine. Some of us breed like rabbits...” I scowl playfully at Beckett.
“And some of us marry fake wives,” Beckett scowls back.
Suddenly, Selena looks like she’s going to cry.
She has no idea that Scarlett started as Beckett’s fake wife, too. Though I have to say, she made him a better man.
“Don’t listen to them,” Scarlett says, shuffling Selena away from us. “They are both horrible. We have each other.” She gives Selena a wink, and the tension in Selena's shoulders eases a little.
I look at Selena and wonder: Would I ever want to see her belly big with my child?
I shake off the image instantly. I would be a shit father. I don't want the responsibility or the noise. She, on the other hand, wants children. She told me she’d have a child with another man one day, and I instantly felt a surge of rage I had no right to feel.
I shouldn’t be this keyed up on my wedding day. I need to breathe through it.
“How many months along are you?” Selena asks Scarlett quietly.
“Seven months,” Scarlett says with a beatific smile. “She’s our fourth. We have two girls and a boy already.”
“She?” I ask, looking at Beckett. “Three girls?”
“Storm and I are outnumbered,” Beckett laughs.
“You’re fucked,” I say.
“She might be our last,” Scarlett says, rubbing her belly. Selena looks at her with a sweet, longing expression that terrifies me. “Then we’ll just let the two of you handle the next generation.”
“Griffin doesn’t want children,” Selena says. Her voice chokes up a little, but she remains polite.
At least she knows.
Beckett gives me an uncomfortable grin. Suddenly, I wish the whole tacky wedding were over. I walk up to Selena and put my hand around her waist, kissing her cheek.
She looks up at me and gives me a forced smile, as if she's trying to convince herself she'll be fine.
“Everything is going to be okay,” I assure her.
Her grimacing grin widens. She’s struggling to even pretend now.
I suspect her dampening mood is because of my unwavering desire to remain child-free.
Maybe when she’s enjoyed her freedom a little, she’ll see how much better three-martini lunches are than minivans and chicken nuggets.
She’s young. She’ll learn. I need to ensure she gets that IUD immediately.
“We’re ready for you,” a woman with a bad nineties haircut says, opening a set of double doors. “Do you have the rings?”
I pull the Tiffany boxes out of my pocket. Her eyes widen as if she’s never seen real jewelry before.
Selena looks overwhelmed, staring at the hideously tacky altar.
I pull her in and kiss her neck, whispering in her ear, “We’ll have a real wedding soon. Something beautiful.”
She shakes her head. “It’s okay.” There’s the plastic grin again. “This isn’t really a marriage anyway.”
She holds her head up, marching forward.
I get it. She’s right. It’s not a real marriage. But it hits me then that it’s the only one I’m ever going to have. And fuck me, I really don’t like the idea of her having a husband after me.
Before I have time to worry more about it, the organ music plays—a tinny, recorded version of the Wedding March.
Scarlett walks down the aisle first, wearing a pale pink dress that accentuates her bump. She looks stunning. Then Selena walks toward me.
The ceremony is short and straightforward. We sign the documents. We are out in under twenty minutes.
Beckett looks at me and laughs as we exit into the daylight. “This is so you, Griffin. You just don’t give a shit. Come on, let's go to Daniel and have a nice dinner at least. My treat.”
“We’re having a legitimate wedding later. I had to get this deal sealed before I gave the partners my final offer. You know that,” I scoff.
“Oh, I know. Our first wedding sucked, too.” He turns to Scarlett and takes her hand.
“I believe I was in a coma for our first wedding,” Scarlett deadpans. “And I’m still not quite over it.”
“Beckett and Scarlett,” I explain to Selena as we walk to his waiting limousine, “had a one-night stand during the Christopher Street Masquerade Ball. One which you will attend with me this year.” I give Selena a wink.
“Oh, thank God, someone to talk to,” Scarlett groans. “And I will let you know it was my one and only one-night stand... and it’s lasted almost five years.”
“So far so good.” Beckett slaps Scarlett’s ass, and she elbows him in the ribs. Their love is so real you can taste it.
Selena offers her first real smile of the day, watching them.
“Scarlett was one of the caterers,” Beckett says, “and I—”
“He said I had the sexiest legs of anyone he’s ever met,” Scarlett interrupts.
“And you still fucking do. Sorry, Selena, but she’s my wife.”
“No, that's okay. Scarlett, you're beautiful.” Selena is sweet and shy with her compliments.
“Do you know something?” Scarlett dips her voice conspiratorially. “This douchebag—” she points at me.
“Hey,” I protest.
“—has been trying to get in my pants forever. He is a serial dater and always has one eye open for his next victim.” She has a sinister edge to her voice, playful but warning. Selena looks wary.
While it’s true, I hate that Scarlett mentions it.
“But the way he looks at you...” Scarlett touches Selena’s back gently. “Well, I’ve never seen him look at anyone that way. Because you are gorgeous and too sweet for him.”
“She isn’t wrong,” I confirm, smiling at Selena.
“Anyway, this one,” I point to Scarlett, changing the subject, “is such a stubborn ass. She ran off, planned to have the baby by herself, got hit by a car, and gave birth on the side of the road.”
“Oh my God,” Selena gasps. “How did you survive that?”
“She almost didn’t.” Beckett gets in the back with us.
“Beckett saved my life,” Scarlett says, her voice cracking a little. “I don’t think I ever thanked you properly.”
“You thank me every day, babe.” Beckett leans over and kisses her. “Take us to Daniel, please,” he tells the driver, closing the partition.
“A DNA test revealed the child born to the comatose woman was his,” I reveal with a flourish.
“Surprise of my life,” Beckett confirms. “Talk about divine intervention.”
“Can’t wait until we have her,” Beckett says, leaning down to kiss Scarlett’s belly again. “Maybe she isn’t our last.”
“Oh my God, Beckett, I have to do something else with my life! I can’t always be pregnant,” she laughs. “But... we’ll see.”
“Sounds beautiful,” Selena says with a quiet sadness.
I realize just how shitty this day must be for her. I take Selena’s hand and kiss it.
“Thank you for doing this. I know it’s not the ideal situation.”
Tears are welling in her eyes. They are hard to ignore.
Scarlett comes to the rescue again. She hands Selena a tissue. “Just don’t be your usual asshole self to her, Griffin. Save that for everyone else.”
I know nothing about the woman I just married, but I can see her strength.
I know she's not motivated solely by money because she hasn't asked for a single lavish thing.
I think her motivation is simply opportunity—she wants to be a lawyer.
She wants to help the disadvantaged. Conversely, I look for loopholes to bind people into tight corners. We couldn't be more opposite.
I touch Selena’s knee. “I hate seeing you cry.”
She wipes her eyes. “I’m okay.”
“I’m going to make this good for you. I promise.”
I’m not sure how, but suddenly the desire to make her happy is overwhelming.
Beckett and I are recognized at the restaurant and seated immediately. The night is lovely, filled with drinks and delicious cuisine, but Selena barely touches her wine or her food. She says her stomach is still not right.
I know it’s nerves. She just married a monster.
We make it back home late. Scarlett and Selena talked for hours, both laughing and bonding. A text from Beckett confirms that a lifelong friendship has been born. I’m jealous, because she already loves Scarlett more than she’ll ever love me.
I help Selena out of her wedding dress in our bedroom. She is quiet.
“At least it’s over,” I offer, hoping to commiserate.
“Right,” she sighs. “So, what happens tomorrow?”
Usually, Sundays are for rest, but I have a meeting with the Christopher Street Society regarding real estate in rural Tennessee.
I’m finalizing contracts to ensure we can operate discreetly without accountability.
Just the thought of the work makes me feel grimy.
If she knew what I really did for the CSS—the manipulation, the cover-ups—it would put even more distance between us.
I have explained to her that the CSS is a "boys' club" for charity. In reality, we control levers of power that most people don't know exist. We make inconvenient people disappear.
By marrying me, Selena is now at risk of being used against me. Carl Besheir will not stop coming for me.
I am a member by birth. The only way out of the Christopher Street Society is in a pine box. As I stare at Selena quietly rolling her pearl-white stockings down her shapely legs, I realize how much I’ve ruined her life.
“I think I’m just going to sleep tonight,” she says softly, changing into a thin nightgown. “Unless you expect that we...”
“No. I’m tired.” I always want to have sex with her, but I understand this isn’t her desire tonight.
She gets into bed and curls as far to her side as she can get. I finish undressing. When I slip under the covers, I hear the distinct sound of muffled weeping. Her body heaves slightly. She’s trying so hard to stay quiet.
I’m not a husband. It’s a role I don’t want to play, yet I find myself aching for her.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask into the dark.
“No, thank you.” I hear the pain in her voice.
It’s almost too hard to fall asleep knowing how distressed she is, but eventually, I do.
I leave early the next morning while Selena is still sleeping. I text her to order breakfast from the chef and promise I’ll be home later.
I receive a one-word reply.
Ok.
Things aren’t right.