One step. Two steps. Eyes fixed on the destination.
Don't think! Don't think!
Samantha chanted to herself.
"We are gathered here today."
Huh--HUH? What the--?
Samantha blinked in shock at the officiant's voice. She had reached the end of the aisle!
Her father was already walking away, retreating to his seat. And fiancé's black tuxedo suit was extending his hand toward her... Waiting.
Her vision blurred.
Then, her stomach lurched.
Oh no.
A cold sweat broke across her skin as bile rose in her throat. She swallowed hard, fighting it down. She was going to be sick.
Eyes tight shut. Shut. Push it back down... Oh no! Oh! Shit! Shit! SHIT!
Her lips parted. Her stomach clenched. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing it away—TOO LATE.
A wet, wretched sound. Splatter!
The crowd gasped in horror.
Samantha forced herself to open her eyes. She whimpered.
She had thrown up in her fiancé's hand in front of the whole world!
Vomit dripped from Dave's outstretched hand.
Silence.
The silence dragged.
"I..." She choked. "I am so...sorry. I swear I didn't mean to-"
She gasped and--
Threw up again on his tuxedo.
"Oh shit. Now, I am dead!"
FLASH! FLASH! FLASH!
The camera crew took pictures in a flash.
"I am sooo dead." Samantha cried, her voice breaking into sobs.
"YES, YOU ARE!" Her fiancé's voice cracked with anger.
Samantha's heart lurched—her groom-to-be sounded deadly pissed.
[|]
"What did you do?"
"I am sorry... I am... I am so sorry." Samantha's hands trembled as she clasped them together, lowering her head in desperation. "What have I done?"
"What are you trying to do? Get out of marrying me?"
"I... I..."
"Well, vomiting all over my clothes isn't stopping it." Dave's deep, dark voice cut through her panic. He coughed, then muttered, "We both don't want this marriage, but it's happening... Jeez."
Samantha nodded frantically. She knew she wasn't getting out of this. She understood him perfectly. But she hadn't noticed when he moved.
While she stared at the floor, he had closed the gap between them. His breath heavy against her ear, sent a shiver down her spine.
Goosebumps prickled along her neck. She held her breath and licked her suddenly dry lips. His presence, so close, was suffocating.
"You look like you're about to faint. Shouldn't you be playing the part of the happy bride?"
Breathe, Samantha. Breathe.
His lips brushed her ear, and she flinched away. Too close.
"Now you just look like I'm attacking you," he murmured, his voice laced with amusement. "Hmm... Who do you think will suffer more if I suddenly decide to call all this off?"
She swallowed hard. "I... I..."
"Cat got your tongue?"
Despite herself, Samantha bit down on her lip. He was right, and it irked her. He sounded exactly as people described him—arrogant, bratty, and... hot.
How could a man sound hot? She had no idea, but Dave Rice had never had a problem turning heads. Not with that voice, dripping with confidence.
His scent filled her nose—masculine, strong. No, not just strong. The right word was—dangerous.
He smelled of danger.
Was that why her head was spinning? Her vision darkened. She shook her head. Everything was bright again.
"I haven't got all day to babysit you. So stop the theatrics."
Her breath caught. A chill ran down her spine, but she nodded again. She let out the breath she had been holding and staggered back two steps, steadying herself.
"I—" Her voice caught in her throat.
"What now? You can't even look me in the eye when you speak?" he scoffed. "Let's get this over with."
Let's get this over with? Was that what he said?
"I am sor-"
Dave had already left her side. He now stood before her father, who had pulled out a handkerchief and was dabbing at his soon-to-be son-in-law's tux. Sam watched as her father cleaned the shirt as though his life depended on it. She quickly prayed that Dave wouldn't use this as leverage against him.
Then, she heard laughter.
Dave's laughter. A rich, unexpected sound broke the uneasy silence that followed her humiliating accident.
The guests erupted into laughter.
"While I am in a hurry to get married, I don't want to do it in this tux," he added, his voice tinged with playfulness.
"Can I just get the jacket changed? Anyone want to help a brother out?" He laughed. "You don't want to see me married in this, do you? What will we tell our children when they see the pictures?"
More laughter erupted.
Samantha also chuckled when he said children. It was comical.
Catherine and Natalie appeared at her side, gently dabbing at her face.
"Are you okay?" Natalie asked softly.
Samantha nodded, though her stomach was tied in knots. She just wanted everything to be over.
"You have to admit, he is fineeee," Catherine whispered, smiling sheepishly.
"Cat, shut up!" Natalie muttered.
"I was trying to break the tension," Catherine huffed. "Sam looks like death. If the cameras catch her like this, she's in trouble."
"Sam, you need to smile," Natalie urged, squeezing her hand.
"Okay," Sam forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "You saw his face?" she asked Catherine.
"You still don't know what he looks like?" Catherine's shock was evident.
Samantha shrugged.
"You're stubborn, Sam. You're getting married today—in a few minutes!" Natalie was equally astonished.
"What he looks like doesn't matter. Whether I want to or not, I'll be bound to him for life. So whether he's handsome or hideous, who cares? I'm screwed either way."
Samantha was the only one at her wedding who didn't know what her groom looked like, and she couldn't be bothered. But now... now, she was a little curious. She watched him work the crowd and willed him to turn so she could see his face.
"So, how about that tux, people?"
"You look good in anything!" someone called, and the crowd roared with laughter.
"Thank you," Dave replied smoothly. "Thank you... Thanks, I think this tux will do."
A groomsman handed him a fresh jacket, helping him into it. Dave turned and started walking toward her.
Samantha held her breath.
Just as he stepped into view, Natalie whispered, "We'll go to that side now."
The twins moved away, and Samantha faced the officiant.
Samantha sighed. There was no point in wasting energy trying to see him now. They would be married in minutes.
"Let's get married!" Dave Rice announced, standing beside her.
The guests laughed again.
Samantha felt his presence as he slipped his hand into hers. His thumb brushed over the back of her hand.
What was he doing? Putting on a show for the press?
"Are you feeling better now?"
Was that concern in his voice, or was he checking if she still planned to run?
Samantha nodded.
"Once again, we are gathered here... Dave Rice, do you take this woman, Samantha Jones, as your lawfully wedded bride to love and to hold in sickness...?"
"Yes."
"Samantha Jones, do you take this man as your lawfully wedded husband..."
"Yes!" she answered, nodding with no hesitation.
From a distance, Sam heard the crowd's jubilation. At least some people were happy. Her head felt funny, and her vision blurred. She focused on the blue dots on the officiator's shirt—it was a design.
Staring helped her concentrate. After a while, she wasn't sure if the dot was a circle or an oval.
"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride."
Sam blinked. The dot was an oval—not a circle—and she was married.
She felt his arm around her shoulder. It was... nice.
Wait. What?
She didn't have time to think. He was lifting her veil. She needed to smile, but she couldn't stop her lips from trembling.
He moved closer, and instinctively, she stepped back, but he placed a firm hand on her lower back, pulling her toward him. Her whole body trembled. Was it fear?
His lips inched toward hers, slowly, deliberately. She held her breath and closed her eyes. Just do it already. Quickly!
Then, something warm brushed against her lips, but it wasn't his mouth. It was his hand, cupping her face, bringing her closer. His breath, hot against her skin, sent a shiver down her spine.
Her body was betraying her. She didn't want him to touch her, but she was powerless to stop him.
Just do it already!
The tension was suffocating. That was when she realized she had been holding her breath.
And then...
Something warm pressed against her lips. She gasped.
But it wasn't his lips. It was his thumb. What was he doing?
His breath hovered just inches from her mouth. She held still, waiting, expecting, bracing...
He kissed his thumb.
Sam's breath hitched. A strange rush of emotions swept through her. Her head felt heavy, her throat parched. She smiled in relief after putting it together.
Dave didn't want to kiss her either. He didn't want this marriage.
He couldn't even bring himself to kiss her. That was it. That had to be it.
Maybe there was still hope for her after all.
She knew it was wrong, but she didn't stop herself from feeling it.
Everything from the past few months flooded her mind.
How could someone's life change so much in the span of a month and two weeks?
Why was she reacting like this?
Of course.
She could still remember how Chris smelled. How he kissed her senseless. How he held her through the night, his legs locked and tangled against her naked body.
Yes, she might have been a virgin before Chris, but she had kissed two other men in her twenty-four years: her ex was one, and there was also Georgie from high school, who had stolen a kiss at eighth Catherine and Natalie's birthday party, and now, Chris.
He was different. He had shown her a whole new world.