The old man’s eyes twinkle. “No offense taken. I’m glad you were able to work that out before the ceremony.”
I tug on the jacket. “The Lord works in mysterious ways.”
“I believe the appropriate verse you’re looking for is that there is a season for all things.” The good Father is about bubbling over with repressed giggles.
“That, too.” I give him a wink and head toward the altar to wait for this ordeal to end.
Chapter 6
Jack in a tux, even one that is too short and too wide, is a deadly sight. As I walk down the aisle, my gaze is pinned to his face. Perhaps it’s the way that the sunlight is beaming through the stained-glass windows, but his eyes shine as he watches me. The glow on his face makes me tremble. The satin-wrapped bouquet of white lilies and roses in my fist feels slippery. I clench the stems tighter.
It’d be wise to stop staring at him and focus on Wendy or the groom or my parents sitting in the second pew. It’d be even better if I could stop imagining that my gown was white and that it was Jack standing just to the right of the priest, waiting for me to arrive at the altar so he could sweep my ginormous veil aside to prepare for our vows of happy ever after. But, if I was that smart, I’d never have put myself in this dangerous position. Granted, if I had known that I’d be in this position where he’d be standing by an altar while I swept down a red carpet as the Wedding March played in the background, I would’ve broken my own leg as an excuse to avoid being in the wedding party. But I knew, deep down, when Jack first proposed the idea of being my date, that it would be very, very bad to accept. Against my better instincts, I’d caved.
Actions have consequences, my stupid mind tells me. Just go for it. His dick was trying to punch a hole through your dress. Take him up on the offer. It might be your only chance.
I hate my inner voice. I hate that I’m actually considering the bad advice. Where’s the good angel to fight back against the devil’s temptation? We’re in a church, for crying out loud. Surely, my guardian angel is lurking around here somewhere ready to rescue me.
But no one comes. No voice in my head reminds me that we considered the option of having Jack as our best friend forever or a one-time quick lay and chose the former. No inner angel helps me tear my eyes away from his beautiful face. No higher being—
My foot strikes the front of the steps leading up to the altar. I let out a yelp and nearly do a header in front of Claire, the maid of honor. I totter on the heels with asymmetric hem tangling around my legs. My arms whip out to the sides for balance and somehow, I manage not to tip over.
You did ask for help, my little brain reminds me. I want to bash my head against my hand, but from the glare on Wendy’s face, if I do anything to cause a disturbance, she’s going to take me behind the church and shoot me.
I stand up straight, avoid Jack’s gaze, and stare at my sister whose jaw has dropped open. I follow her line of sight until I reach Trent’s face.
The screech of fury that Wendy releases at his rapidly swelling eye is loud enough to rouse the birds on the top of the steeple.
“What in the hell is going on?” she screams. “Who did this? I swear to God, I will kill whoever is trying to ruin my wedding! Was it you?” She jabs the massive bouquet of flowers in Jack’s direction. He stares stonily back at her—a dead giveaway to me, at least, that it was indeed Jack’s fist that met Trent’s eye.
Mom rushes to Wendy’s side. Greg stumbles down the stairs to calm her. Even the pastor gets involved. As they huddle, the occasional “this is bullshit” and “I’m going to murder everyone” and “I want him fired” and “I don’t care that she’s my sister” snippets rise above the hushed whispers. Eventually, the three convince Wendy that the wedding can still take place despite the fact that I tripped and that Trent’s eye is nearly glued shut from the swelling. It’s Greg who has to say the vows, after all.
During the ceremony, through the prayers, the Bible reading, the sermon that I don’t hear a word of, the singing, and the novel-length promises the two recite, I prepare myself for the task ahead of me. I had planned on ditching Jack during the reception—as a way to protect him from my unfortunate physical attraction. It doesn’t matter that he had a hard-on. It was a physical response to a woman standing close. Never mind, that Jack’s a thirty-one-year-old man with a healthy sexual appetite that is regularly fed by hotties around town and probably doesn’t get turned on by mere contact.