Crowned by Hate (Crowned 1)

She smiled weakly. “He owns a cartel that runs most of the eastern side of America, and my mom? She...” Her eyes drifted off into the distance sadly. “She’s difficult.” Then she walked back to her side of the car with a complete smile back on her face. “You ready to continue our road trip of mass destruction?”

“Yeah.” I shook my head, attempting to wrap my head around everything I just witnessed. “Yeah, but no more killing people. We’re going to be leaving a trail in our wake soon.”

Brooke laughed, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Promise, no more dead bodies.”

Bringing myself out of my memory lapse, I look toward my sister and smile. “No. Nothing to do with Brooke.”

“Are you sure?” Brianna asks, doing that annoying thing with her eyebrow when she knows I’m lying.

“Positive. Now can I just get this wedding over with, please? I feel like my life hasn’t even started yet but I’m over it already.” I sink back into my chair.

We pull up to a white chapel, and I note how it looks exactly as it did in the brochures. I didn’t get much time to plan, and it didn’t mean that great of a deal to me at the time, so it was merely me choosing out of the eight venues the wedding planner picked out for me.

Jen is waiting for me at the curb in her bridesmaid’s dress, and seeing her should make me happy, but it makes me sad. Sad because I still haven’t heard from Devon, and I’ve become so lost without him. I’ve never thought of myself to rely on anyone in my entire life, not my father or my sister, but without even realizing, I did rely on Devon. Emotionally, sexually, and just as a friend in general. One thing I have learned through this rough patch is that friends can break your heart just like any relationship can.

Jen opens my door and widens her arms. “Oh my God, Isa, you look so stunning.” I get out of the car with Brianna holding my train behind me. I feel terrible because amongst all the chaos that has happened in my life, I’ve lost touch with Jen. It’s as though we both just took different paths in life, hers being having kids and marrying her high school sweetheart at a young age, and me, well, me being the hot mess that I am. Somehow, even though we love each other dearly, those little differences in life can be big things when it comes to friendship.

“Can you get out? I don’t want to be stuck in here all day,” Lydia mutters impatiently from inside the limo.

I pull Jen into a hug, and then step back. “You look beautiful too, Jen, Brianna did really well with your guy’s dresses.” I gave Brianna three options to choose from in regards to the bridesmaid dresses, and what did she do? She chose one thing of each option and then customized it. Andrea, the wedding planner, was not a fan of Bri.

“Thank you. My kids are probably running circles around David right now.” She looks toward the church, and we both giggle. She’s right, all though I do love her two kids very much, they’re little mini tornados.

“Okay, are we ready?” Brianna grins, brushing her own dress down.

Jen smiles before nodding. “As ready as we will ever be.”

The white doors spread open and I step inside just as our guests get to their feet. This whole thing is like a car wreck of a movie. I feel like a fraud, standing at where the aisle begins. Every step I take down the long wooden pathway, one hundred things rush through my brain—all of which have a lot to do with running. But considering my track record with running, I’m thinking I better not.

Looking up, I slowly bring my eyes to the altar, and they don’t flinch away from Bryant. I know he has two men as his groomsmen, probably guys from that day—probably the same guys that helped practically kidnap me when I was in his house, or maybe, they’re paid actors. The latter makes a lot of sense, and both options aren’t very romantic. Figures. Good thing I’m not a scrapbook wedding enthusiast because this would absolutely shit on any and all expectations.

Bryant is dressed in a razor-sharp, perfectly tailored suit. The little black bow tie that is hooked around his neck catches my eye, mainly because I’ve never seen him in a bowtie, he’s almost always wearing a tie. I bring my eyes back to his and I watch as he runs his own down my body, slowly. Yet, even though this is my wedding day, and although I know that it’s not the traditional wedding—not even remotely, a part of me does feel a tinge of guilt, or discomfort, knowing how fake the whole set up is. But as Bryant takes my hand with a cocky grin, I notice something. On my side of the church sits Lydia, my father, a couple of my aunts whom I haven’t seen in years, my cousin Trish—who is a nutcase—her husband and three kids, and a few distant cousins, but when I look to Bryant’s side, it’s full. Way fuller than my side. I didn’t realize it, but he has a massive family. I don’t know what I was expecting, actually, no, I know that I was expecting a lot smaller. Not saying people with smaller families are snobbish, but Bryant just comes off as someone who wouldn’t have a large family. I’m guessing the woman standing at the front with a wide smile on her face is his mom. She has soft brown curls, warm chocolate eyes and a smile that could light up this entire church.