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Ace

Three weeks later…

I feel like I’ve been standing at this altar for hours. In reality, it’s probably only been about five minutes. My collar’s a little too loose, my bow tie’s a little too tight, and I can’t stop tapping my foot.

I’m nervous.

Raya wanted something small and intimate, and I agreed, because she gets whatever she wants from me. But I know the 'small' part was most important for her. No parents. No friends. Just Tori.

So here we are at the Avalon Estate, a historic mansion in north Decatur. It sits on acres of manicured grounds, surrounded by ancient oak trees and garden paths. Raya loved it when we toured, and they happened to have an opening.

We’re in the Grand Hall, which is a misnomer, because it’s small and cozy. Raya handpicked every detail of the decor. All I had to do was show up in my tux.

I can’t wait to see her walk down the aisle.

“You good?”

I turn to face Titus, giving him a nod. My best man. He’s grinning, looking sharp in his tux, his energy high. He’s been my rock through this whole thing, whereas Bron, Jovan, and Dayton have been more like bystanders. They’re seated on my side of the aisle, subdued as hell. But they’re here, which is more than I can say for my family.

They wanted no parts of this. My mother made sure of that. She poisoned the well, spun a bunch of stories, and created such a hostile environment that even my cousins declined their invitations. Not that I even invited my parents. Vanessa spilled the news, I’m sure.

Raya’s side is even emptier. Tori’s the only guest. She’s in the front row, legs crossed, arms folded, her face relaxed. She looks happy to be here, at least. Proud, too. And she should be. Without her, this probably wouldn’t be happening. Without her advice, her warnings, and her gifts to me, I wouldn’t be standing here right now waiting to tie myself to a woman I can’t decide if I love more than I fear.

The pastor at my parent’s church declined, so the officiant next to me is a complete stranger. He keeps giving me polite smiles, but I just nod and keep it moving.

My eyes burn as I scan the hall again. I blink fast, surprised by the tears welling up. My throat constricts. My chest tightens and aches.

Titus leans in, pressing a folded handkerchief into my hand. “You got this,” he whispers. “She’s gonna be beautiful.”

I nod, but I don’t correct him. I know my bride will be beautiful. That ain’t the problem. That’s not what the tears are for.

The tears are for me. For this empty ass venue. For only having one of my boys standing up here with me. For everything I lost.

And for the fact that I believe it will all be worth it.

Tori catches my eye from her seat. She tips her chin, a subtle reminder that I’m okay. I’m prepared for this.

I have the placebo birth control pills she gave me. Just in case. Pregnant women have more to lose. Plus, my family will come back around for the first grandchild.

And the neostigmine. That’s a failsafe for when Raya tries to give me the same fate as her father.

Not when. I don't know why I even thought that.

If.

Big if.

I snatched a few of those notebooks, too. They’re in my safe deposit box at the bank. Could be evidence one day.

Fuck.

I never thought I’d be marrying a woman who requires an emergency anecdote in case she tries to poison me, but here we are.

The music starts.

The doors open.

There’s my bride.

My unhinged, crazy as fuck, head over heels in love and obsessed with me bride. The one who needs me. Who does not, under any circumstances, play about me. Who sees me as her hero.

How could I walk away from that?

She’s in white, but not the kind of white you see in the bridal magazines. Her dress is sleek, clinging to her body like someone poured it on. No lace, no fluff, no princess shit. Just her. Simple.

Her veil is short and sheer and soft around her face. She’s holding a bouquet of red roses. She’s fucking beautiful, almost scarily so, and my smile at the sight of her is genuine. I’m happy. I'm at peace.

It just is what it is.

She walks alone, no father to give her away. No mother wiping her tears in the front row. Just her, with her shoulders back and her chin up. A bad bitch who don’t give a fuck. I can’t help but respect it. I’ll protect that girl forever if it means that chin never gets tucked.

She reaches me, and I take her hand, kissing her knuckles. My life wouldn’t be the same without her, I know that for a fact. Good or bad. Better or worse.

I already know it’ll get worse sometimes.

I don’t hear the vows. I don’t register my own recitation of them. My mind’s racing like buddy in The Best Man , only I’m not seeing visions of my bride fucking my homeboy. I’m seeing flashes of the stalking, and the videos, that night at the bridge, the notebooks and the skateboard.

“I do.”

It slides out of my mouth easily, because I mean that shit. I’m in this. I tried to quit this girl before and I was fucking miserable. I thought long and hard about what life would be like without her. Even as recently as last night, I pondered. Shit just looked like a black hole to me. Empty. A mundane day-to-day with some boring bitch who eventually decides she can take me or leave me.

Who the hell wants that?

“I do.”

Her fingers tighten around mine, her smile stretching from ear to ear. The rings slide on. The kiss comes next. Then we turn to face all four of our guests as Mr. And Mrs. Ace Jackson Taylor.

I’m smiling, too.

I have a wife now.

She’s my princess, and I’m her hero.

That’s the story as of now. What comes next, the next phase of this adventure…I guess that’s up to her.

But just like my wife, I’ll never take my eye off the ball. I have to think like her. I have to reason like her. I lowkey have to be just as twisted as she is.

My life depends on it.