CHAPTER TWO
1215 Words
I was only eight years old. My life wasn't at that time a raging volcano that was constantly gushing hot lava. My life was still in perfect order and not in disarray at the time. I wasn't pretending to smile at the time.
Mom was still alive. Father was more concerned with us, his wife and only daughter, than he was with his business.
Little me had been ecstatic when we went to a wedding ceremony. Our neighbor, the bride, was always very kind to me and treated me like her little sister when she started getting ready for her wedding. I was ecstatic; it was fun. And I appreciated their affectionate gaze as I watched her walk down the aisle with her hand clasped between her father's. The congregation's enthusiastic applause for the pair left me speechless. When I noticed the happiness in her eyes and how much her father was enjoying the moment, I turned to face him and asked,
"On my wedding day, you'll lead me down the aisle, correct?"
Father nodded at me and gave me a charming smile, his eyes glimmering with love.
He pledged.
He committed to accompanying me on my wedding day.
I clung to that promise despite the fact that I was marrying someone I didn't know or love and that the love my father and I had shared was long since over.
I have no idea why. I'm not sure how I forgot this until I was informed that he wouldn't be attending.
I hope you can now understand why I allowed myself to fall apart and why these tears overcame every aspect of who I am.
No matter how hard I tried to put my heart back in the cage, I was unable to stop crying.
But everything stopped when I heard his voice.
The tears that seemed to have been waiting for this moment ceased to fall as well, and I lifted my face to gaze at him as the brief shock surged through me.
I looked like the state I was in, and my makeup was probably ruined, but I didn't care because my eyes were fixed on him.
Like the last time we saw him, he was well groomed. His hair was expertly carved and styled, paying close attention to every little detail. Those eyes, the edges of sleep, the distinct lines, and not a hair out of place
Holy s**t! Was Maxwell the object of my gaze?
My gaze followed his face as I swallowed. Like a finely sculpted architectural element, his lips were full, pink, and carved at the proper angles to fit his face.
Ignore my string of grammar rules once more. This guy is really attractive!
You seem utterly absorbed in your admiration for me, considering that I was crying just now. As soon as I heard what he was saying, I stopped talking.
"What?" I spoke without thinking.
His laughter sounded like a deep, throaty laugh.
Hot!
I hesitated before putting my hand in his as he extended his to me. He hauled me up with little effort. Because I was only five and a half inches tall and he was about six feet tall, I had to crane my neck to look at him while avoiding the seductive view of his sculpted chest through the three piece suit he was wearing.
I swallowed once more, and suddenly my palms started to perspire.
"Why are you in this place?" I stumbled.
He gave a shrug.
The crowd was anticipating my bride's arrival, but she was nowhere to be seen. He c****d his head to the side and said, "I had to come get her myself."
He narrowed his eyes at me.
"I was surprised to see her collapse on the ground, sobbing uncontrollably." His eyes and tone made it difficult to read any emotion.
He continued to stare at me with those brown eyes,
"Is it possible that my bride is not interested in marrying me?"
"No, that's not the case." I tried to explain myself right away, but he gave me a cheeky smile and shook his head, forcing me to swallow my words.
You've ruined your makeup. I'll fix it. "Oh," he said.
Once more, I was momentarily taken aback, but he passed me by before I could even process what he had said. Silently, I observed him as he made his way to my dressing table, gathering things as if he were an expert.
Is he doing this with knowledge?
He came back to me, his lips set in a thin yet comforting line.
"Lip gloss and mascara should work wonders." "Oh," he said.
He probably did it intentionally. His brown eyes were so intense the way he stared at me while he applied mascara to my face. The heat he was stirring inside me made me feel like I was on fire.
Perhaps you should read this again if you're still unsure about who this man is.
My arranged husband is him! Well, he will be in a few minutes.
I saw the corner of his lips curl into a very modest smile as he applied the last coat of gloss to my already glossy lips.
"There!" His voice was vibrating as he mumbled.
I swallowed.
I believe I'm going crazy.
Like a gentleman in Bridgerton, he stepped back a bit and cleared his throat lightly before putting one hand behind him and extending the other toward me.
My lovely bride, Ms. Emma Blackstone…
My cheeks flushed red and if I wasn't too numbed by his alluring aura, I would have a hidden face in palms.
“Are You Ready To Walk Down The Aisle With Me?" The words kept repeating itself in my head and I didn't know when I nodded.
He took my hand and slipped it between his, his eyes unwavering from mine.
Guess I'm not walking down the aisle alone anymore.
The audience erupted in applause, and ordinarily, I would have allowed myself to be overwhelmed by this lovely moment, but the tiny demon inside my head would not be quiet.
It's all fake! These folks don't give a damn about you.
You're just a sacrificial lamb!
I tried to shut the voice out. I promise that I did, but all of my efforts were in vain.
Nobody is interested in you!
I couldn't stop hearing the words. We had to repeat the wedding vows as the priest was saying them. After a long night of sweeping the chimney, I sounded like Cinderella, a Disney princess with a bad case of laryngitis.
Thus, using the authority granted to me, I hereby declare you to be husband and wife.
"You can give the bride a kiss!"
Even though the audience cheered loudly, I can assure you that the sound of my heart pounding in my chest was louder. He leaned in, and I swallowed.
Will he really give me a kiss?
The cheers grew louder and my heart raced faster the more he moved.
What is this man doing to me, dear Mary?
I caught him grinning. Then, with glowing eyes, he reached for my hand and planted a firm kiss on it. I heard him say as the applause was gradually fading away,
"Congratulations, my wife, Mrs. Maxwell Nolan."
- Writer
