The wedding

I never gave much thought to what I wanted later in life. The future always seemed so distant. So what was the point? But here I am, it’s my wedding day trapped in cloudless thought and going through all of the motions, as if I was just another soul trapped in a never-ending lifecycle.

I should be spewing with never-ending happiness. My smile should speak of excitement. Every breath I take should inhale and exhale with laughter. My eyes should be glowing and I should feel weightless as if I am floating in the water. But I’m not.

Today is absolutely perfect. We are up north. The leaves are changing colors. It’s the peak of fall in northern Michigan. A dim overcast is set across the sky, and the air smells of vanilla and cinnamon spice, thanks to the caterer. The decorators had gone all out for today’s events. A seven tiered wedding cake nearly 200 guest, tables are lined with the most expensive cream colored cloth that’s draped in burnt hues of orange. Upon the tables there are subtle candles, floating in water vases. And rows of benches are filling with guests dressed for the nines. The winery proved to be the absolute perfect spot for a wedding. Lanterns are lining the pathways, and pampas grass is displayed as if it was Martha’s Vineyard. I may as well be at her vineyard with this guest list.

My whole life, I have always walked between the lines. My mother abandoned my sister and I as children to chase a true love story. She never returned. No postcards, no phone calls, no text just complete radio silence. My father on the other hand has always loved to show his power over society. Some think of him as a superior elite. He was a professional golfer and has multiple business endeavors. And within those businesses, he has a network of people to call upon for whatever he needs. Which is exactly how I ended up here.

By staying on the straight and narrow my whole life, my father decided to introduce me to Mr. Malcolm. He decided it was time I go out into society, date and eventually marry this man. My father seems to thinks he walks on water. He plays golf owns a boat marina and comes from a family that owns a handful of fortune 500 companies. He is without a doubt, a bachelor, handsome, smart but, has absolutely no sense of humor. He’s always been a gentleman and he’s always done things by the book. He could have any girl that he wanted yet our family thought it would be great to join forces by setting us up to get married. He’s a man just like I’ve been a woman that doesn’t want to disappoint the family. God knows what the newspapers would write about us here.. between our families, we own most of the city and the surrounding cities all of the businesses are looked after by our families and tied to our families’s names. It’s just another episode of the rich, marrying the rich. I’m certain that a reality TV show would bring much more excitement than this.

I would rather be in a black wedding dress, walking down the aisle with a bouquet of mini shovels for my own grave because that’s exactly how I feel. Like death is at the end of that aisle. A vow for eternal unhappiness. Instead, I’m wearing a beautiful Moralee cream colored wedding dress. It fits me like a glove, hugging all of my curves and drops just beyond my waist and has a little bit of glam to it. My neckline plunges down nearly to my navel and my bosoms are up and on display, outlined with delicate lace and silver beading. The strapless dress is corseted and leaves nothing to the imagination. It was a choice I made in my rebellion to looking Prim and proper. I even went as far as getting a wolf tattooed to my left forearm just a couple weeks ago to show off my rebellion and my assets. My dear mother-in-law will absolutely despise what she sees when I walk out of that corridor. I never liked her. She may have been good friends with my mother, but she never once showed my sister or I any respect or moral remorse for what happened. That is something I will never forget.

I decide to get out of my head and go for a little walk. The inside of this winery is like a castle, there are secret doors and passages to anywhere you could dream to disappear to in a castle. I however, decide that I am going to take a stroll out of the keep and into the garden that is completely private away from guests klinking their glasses and talking about how their horse is bigger than another’s.

As I’m walking through the passage, I can hear yelling from a woman coming through one of the passage doors. The woman is shouting in the whiniest of ways.

“ how could you marry her of all people? She doesn’t love you like I do”

I should be surprised but I am not. I’m standing outside my fiancés secret passage listening to another woman, of many flings, flaunt her love. But then, my fiancé, Mr. Malcolm speak “ don’t be absurd Chrstina I don’t love her nor will I ever besides, you know that our families want us to be happy in holy matrimony. It doesn’t mean that I’ll have to vow monogamy, we can still have our fun”

I don’t even bother to stay and listen. It’s nothing I haven’t heard so I continue to walk the passage before it’s time for me to take my debut as bride of the hour.

The garden is honestly a sanctuary, my favorite part of this entire ordeal, peaceful and beautiful. I could only imagine what it looks like in mid June with fireflies the wildflowers. My thoughts are abruptly interrupted by shuffling in the garden while that proceeded a door closing. A moment of silence passes before I smell something burning.

“Hello?” I meekly whisper out keeping my voice from stuttering. That’s when I see him. A man I don’t know wearing black dress slacks a black button up shirt and cufflinks that scream designer. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows showing of his tattoos and he has dark hair. He’s leaned up against the cobblestone wall with a foot propped back and a cigar in hand. His other hand flipping over his gold lighter case, sending flames on and off like he’s bored or lost in thought.

“Aren’t brides supposed to be busy with pictures, makeup, and fretting over the details of the wedding” his nonchalant voice hums. Completely uninterested and not even bothering to look my direction. Instead he’s just looking up towards the sky, as if he was waiting for something. He’s incredibly attractive, and for some reason my heart is starting to pulse stronger and I can feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up as if every nerve fiber in me was screaming danger.

I walk towards him, mimicking his body language, hold out my hand as an invitation to pass the cigar, which he does, as I inhale and exhale..”sounds like you have the day all figured out. But unless you have tinder for that lighter to set this place ablaze you can digress.” I can see him cock his head toward me. I don’t dare look for fear he may actually hear my heart racing. I don’t recognize him from our guest list. Perhaps he’s working the event.

“Ouch, sassy bride on the loose, having trouble in paradide” he taunts. I can feel my eyes burning with annoyance now. This man may be attractive but he has some nerve.

“Please only a sassy bride would be interested in today’s events. I however, could care less. I’m just here to do my duty as a grateful daughter should.”

I say firmly with a hint of teasing in my voice to mask the irritability.

The man leans into me I can feel his breath against my ear “ do we have a runaway bride on our hands“?

I sense intrigue on his tongue, I don’t deviate, instead I turn to where his breath stands, lean into his face, so we’re nearly nose to nose and whisper seductively to match his unorthodox attitude

“ a runaway bride would need an escort. I seem to be short of those, besides, it would have to be in a style that would attract enough attention that will keep this town talking for a century. So unless you plan on being an accomplice and giving me a match I suggest we finish this cigar in silence. You are crashing my garden party after all sir”.

The man stays still where we stand. Studying my eyes. My gosh he has light green eyes that I’m lusting after right now while trying to to keep it together. He leans closer to me our lips are nearly brushing now. “ what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t assist a bride in need”? He grabs me by the back of the waist turning me so that I’m completely facing him now, our bodies too close for cordial manner. “Besides, I’m not the gentle type, I’m selfish and take what I want. Take a page out of my book sweetheart, and tell me what it is that you want so I can be at your service”. His voice is playful and his eyes are dark with seduction. The words blurt out of me without thought.

“Unless you’re willing to kidnap me from a life of misery, we have no business together” my voice firm and taunting but also skeptical. He grins devilishly and just like that he closes the gap of air between our lips. I feel his tongue, parting my lips, dominantly, taking control, plucking the cigar from my one hand and flicking it into the gardens fountain while pinning me against the stone brick, the other hand still at my backside firmly planted. He keeps kissing me eagerly and I kiss him back, heat pooling to my core and just like that for the first time it’s the most alive I have ever felt. I’m grabbing his shoulders breathing heavily at each surface of breath, and I can feel our bodies completely enclosed to one another. He pulls away from me, regrettably excitement in his eyes, his hair in disarray, he looks at me putting his arm out like a gentleman for me to wrap my arm around

And says “ to grand escapes and selfish endeavors”. I look at him and within a single

Moment I’m grasping what I’m about to do, the guilt, the shame, the drama, the lash back I’m about to receive and in that moment all I can think about is how much I just want to be free of all the expected parts of me. I wrap my arm around his eagerly. For the first time I’m alive and I don’t even know who my rescuer is.

“Emily Danvers” is all I mange to say as we join strides. We pause at the door and he smiles turning his head at me.

“Reed Malcolm, cousin to your ex-Fiancé”

His words are sharp but prideful. Like there’s a story I have yet to understand. I hear him and all I can think to myself is that I didn’t even know My fiancé Alex had a cousin. And guilt is starting to engulf me on how this will be perceived.