Too late Mr cross

Chapter 3: Perfect Wedding?

Elena

Everything happened so fast, it was like I couldn’t even stop to breathe. From lawyers signing paperwork to the wedding being planned in a week, I knew weddings took months to prepare, but Damien’s family wanted everything to happen so quickly. They hired people to handle everything—the food, the venue, every single detail.

One moment, I was a waitress struggling to pay rent. Next, I was getting fitted for a wedding dress.

My phone buzzed. I picked it up. It was Michael.

“What the hell am I hearing? You’re getting married to Damien?”

As I saw those words, I couldn’t stop myself from smiling.

“Yes, and none of you bothered to tell me.”

I frowned. “I thought Damien told you.”

“No, he didn’t.” Michael sounded both angry and worried.

“I’m sorry,” I said genuinely, feeling bad.

“It’s fine, but Elena, are you sure about what you’re doing?”

Those words stayed with me for a moment. That was Michael—always caring.

“I am sure,” I replied.

We didn’t say anything for a moment, then the line went dead.

I quickly placed the phone down and made sure I was still ready for the designer to take all the accurate measurements. I wasn’t sure how she was going to get the dress done that fast, but I guessed I would just have to wait and see.

The morning of my wedding, I sat in front of the mirror, with so many people I had never seen before working on my hair, makeup, and nails, making sure everything was perfect.

When they were done, I just sat there, staring at my reflection. I was breathtaking. I had never looked this beautiful in my life.

When the dress was brought in, my jaw dropped. It looked like something out of a fairy tale, something I had only dreamed of.

They put me in the dress, and I stared at myself in the mirror one more time. How much I wanted my mom to be here right now.

Everything was just so perfect, but my heart was racing so fast. It felt like my knees were about to give out.

I stood at the entrance of the hall. Everyone was there—all of Manhattan’s elite. The hall was massive and beautifully decorated with plants and flowers I couldn’t name.

As I walked down the aisle slowly, I saw Damien standing there in a black suit, looking breathtaking, his hair combed back neatly, his sky-blue eyes resting on me. Mike stood behind him. He gave me a reassuring smile, and that boosted my confidence a little.

When I stood in front of Damien, everyone who had been standing sat down, and the ceremony began.

“You look beautiful,” Damien said, but his expression was something else. He didn’t show excitement, happiness—nothing. It was just bland.

“You don’t look bad yourself,” I replied.

When my gaze swept across the crowd, I saw Rosalie sitting at the far end of the hall, dressed in a deep red dress, like she was trying to draw the attention that was supposed to be on me.

Damien read out his vows, and they were the most beautiful vows I had ever heard. Even though I knew he didn’t mean a word of them, I told myself—I convinced myself—that he did.

“Your turn,” the pastor whispered, and I drew in a deep breath.

“Before speaking, Damien, I have known you for almost my entire life, and I have loved you since we were kids. And I am always going to love you, because you make me so happy. You bring light to my darkness. You make me want to wake up every morning, and it would be my dream to spend the rest of my life with you. So, thank you for making that possible.”

Everyone erupted with cheers and applause.

Damien barely smiled.

“You may kiss the bride,” the pastor said.

People were clapping as his lips met mine in the most intense way ever. Everyone kept cheering and clapping. I couldn’t believe I was actually married to him. It felt like a dream come true.

The reception was even more magical. Guests walked up to us. Damien’s hand was on my waist. He had a smile on his face. He knew exactly what to say at the exact time. Everything just felt so perfect.

But no matter how I tried to tell myself this was real, no matter how I tried to convince myself to believe it, that huge part of me still knew it was all a façade.

The reception went on till it was getting dark, and everyone started leaving. Damien and I got into the car as everyone cheered behind us.

The drive to the hotel was quiet. He stared out the window, so did I, but occasionally I would turn to look at him. But he never really looked at me. I would know, because I was paying maximum attention to him—his body language, everything. And throughout the reception, his eyes were on…

When we got to the hotel, the suite that was left for us was bigger than my entire apartment.

“Damn,” I whispered under my breath.

Damien didn’t say a word. He just walked out of the room, and I went to shower. When I came back, I had expected him to maybe be on the bed. I thought he went to grab us some food because all we had at the reception were just drinks.

I waited for hours. He didn’t show up. I searched around. I looked around the hotel. He wasn’t there. His number wasn’t going through, and I was so worried.

When it was 4 a.m., a knock landed on my door. I quickly rushed to get it, and it was Damien.

He smelled like a woman’s perfume.

He just glared at me before walking to his side of the bed, lying down, and falling asleep.

I got onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. I couldn’t sleep.

And it felt like I had just made the greatest mistake of my life getting married to him.