Page 26

Is that what Aidan is? Is that what I’m about to be bound to forever?
The man smokes a cigarette, and those coal black pits of despair he probably thinks are eyes bore through me as if he’s assessing prey. I actually feel my blood run cold. I really just thought that was a metaphor, but I’m telling you right now… it is not. It is an actual real thing. My heart beats hard in my chest as I start to back away.
He gives me a long slow once over and takes another drag on his cigarette as he advances.
“Nice dress,” he says.
“Ummm, thank you,” I squeak out. I assume he’s on Aidan’s side of the church. There’s no way my family knows a guy like this who seems like Death himself has come to visit my wedding.
“Ummm are you… uh… do you work for Aidan? Or ummm part of the family?”
Does that sound like I just asked if they were the mob? Is someone going to whack me for that? I don’t know the protocol.
He just chuckles. “No, sweetheart. I’m the man who made Aidan who he is today. I’m Brian Sloan.” He says it like it’s a name I should know. Like he thinks he’s famous or something. I have no idea who this guy is.
This is the point at which a normal person offers their hand for a polite handshake, but happily Brian doesn’t seem to engage in such formalities. He just takes another drag on his cigarette and stares at me.
My gaze darts around the grounds, searching for an escape that doesn’t have me running right back into my cage like a little idiot.
“The last time I saw you… was a Valentine’s Day party. You were six. You were a cute fucking kid, but you broke his heart. It was really hard for me to let that go.”
A slow awareness dawns on me, and I realize why this guy seems familiar. He was the angry dad who looked so scary after I laughed at Aidan. But he can’t be Aidan’s dad. I thought he died? I can’t remember all the details, but I knew Aidan had a weird living situation back when we were kids.
“Are you the uncle he lived with?” I ask, continuing to make hysterical small talk because there is a part of me that thinks this guy might be about to kill me right now, and I’m living in the delusion that if I keep him talking, he’ll somehow magically grow a heart, see my humanity, and let me go, rather than pull my arms off and let me flop around until I die which honestly feels like his actual plan right now.
“No, no actual relation. I’m like a father to him, though. I’m sure you and I will see more of each other in the future.”
The absolute last thing I ever want is to see this terrifying wraith of a person again.
A woman approaches us, and I feel relief at no longer being alone with this man. She has long dark flowing hair, an olive complexion, and sharp cat-like green eyes. She isn’t dressed like normal people dress for weddings. She’s dressed like an assassin from a spy movie. Black leather pants, spike-heeled boots. Black leather corset. Around her throat is a platinum band with black and white diamonds.
“Those will kill you, my love,” she says.
Brian, looking momentarily human, drops the cigarette on the ground and grinds it down under his boot. “Mina, what are you doing out here?”
She wraps her arms around him and turns to look me over. A long slow once over, much like Brian’s, only slightly less predatory.
“Nice dress,” she says.
“Thank you,” I say again, less squeaky this time.
“The bride here is trying to escape,” Brian says, conversationally to the woman who is his… girlfriend? Wife? Partner in crime? It’s hard to tell.
“That’s so cute,” she says. Then she turns to me, her tone more serious. “I would advise against it.”
So maybe Aidan didn’t fuck up and he did think of everything. I can’t have bad enough luck that this guy just happened to be standing out here. I glance wistfully off toward the parking lot, praying for a moving car that I can just… I don’t know… jump into the passenger side of as its trying to leave? But no one is leaving, apparently including me.
“You wouldn’t get very far in those shoes,” Mina says. I know she can see the desperation in my eyes as I pray for a rescue that isn’t coming.
She can’t even see my shoes, but she’s right.
“You don’t want us to chase you. You’ll mess up that stunning couture gown. And it will just be more embarrassing for you,” she says. “Let’s try to do this with some dignity.”
Brian takes a good hard look at me. “She’s not going to run. She’s going to be a good girl, aren’t you Madison?”
It feels like he’s pried into my mind and is going through all my file cabinets of secrets—not that that’s a lot of paper to sift through.
I’m backing away again, only half-conscious of my actions. I stumble over a tree root, but before I can fall and get grass stains all over the dress, Brian is there, and now this cold terrifying man’s hands are on me as he helps me right myself.