“I know. I was watching from the balcony. I could see you unraveling.”
I lay my head on his chest, trying — and failing — to get a grip on my tears. “Promise me it’s finally over.”
“What, love?”
“Us, leaving each other.” I close my eyes. “Promise me we’re finally done walking away from one another.”
“I promise.” His lips hit my forehead, depositing a kiss so tender, it fills my eyes with fresh tears. “From this day onward, I will not leave your side. I vow to you, Emilia Victoria Lancaster — until the breath leaves my body, until my heart ceases to beat… I am yours.”
It’s not the vow I thought I would receive from a man in this church today.
It’s far, far better.
I can’t help myself — I have to kiss him again. My hands cling to his shoulders as I bring my mouth to his. Rising onto my tiptoes, I try to deepen the connection, allowing myself to get lost in the sensation of his lips moving over mine. To enjoy the first kiss we’ve ever shared in the open, uncaring who might bear witness to our love.
Chloe whistles again. “Um…hello?!We’re waiting!”
With a frustrated grunt, Carter pulls back from me. “Come on. It’s time you heard the full story.” He takes my hand and starts leading me down the aisle, back toward the altar where Chloe, Henry, and Alden are standing.
Actually, Alden is still rather slumped over, his body braced up with the help of a table.
“Welcome home,” Chloe whispers to her brother, wrapping her arms around him. “Now tell us what the hell is going on.”
Carter glances at Henry and gives a nod of encouragement. “It’s time.”
Henry looks from me to Chloe and back again, running a hand through his close-cropped hair. I can see his burns extend up the side of his head, leaving a bald patch behind his left ear. When he turns away from us to look at my groom, still slumped over like a broken Ken doll, I feel all the wind go out of my lungs.
“Alden, my pet,” Henry says, a note of steel creeping into his playful tone. “Would you like to explain why you attempted to murder me? Or shall I?”
* * *
When enough crazythings happen in your life, you develop a sort of immunity to insanity. You think you’ve heard it all. That there’s nothing else on this earth that can truly shock you or throw your worldview into chaos.
And then your comatose cousin accuses your almost-husband of attempted murder on your wedding day.
“Henry,” Alden whimpers, looking like he’s about to shit his perfectly-tailored white pants. “Please.”
“Please?” Henry roars, advancing. “You ask for compassion when you left me for dead?”
“I didn’t! It was an accident!”
“The scar on the back of my head says otherwise!” Henry snaps, his face reddening. “The doctors tell me someone hit me quite hard with a blunt curved object — I was unconscious long before the fire ever began.”
Alden shakes his head in denial, saying nothing.
“I’ve often wondered, lying in my hospital bed these weeks and months in excruciating pain, barely able to move or eat as my burns slowly healed… What was it you hit me with, that night?” Henry asks. “It’s the one detail that, try as I might to recall, continues to elude me.”
“Henry,” Alden whimpers. “Please…”
“Was it a lamp off my nightstand? A trophy from my case?” He pauses. “Do tell us, we’re simply dying of curiosity. Operative word beingdying.”
There’s a long silence. I assume Alden is going to remain stubbornly silent… but then, in a halting voice, he whispers, “The lacrosse stick. It was the lacrosse stick.”
Henry makes atsksound. “You don’t even enjoy lacrosse. You were never any good at it.”
Alden drops his face into his hands, crying like a child. He’s barely recognizable to me. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “I’m so sorry.”
“Afraid we’re a bit past the point of apologies, old sport.” Henry takes a few steps closer and Alden, panicking now, begins to scoot backward, cowering like a child beneath the toppled table. “It’s time to own up to what you’ve done.”