Page 166 of On Edge

But then my mother appears, dressed in champagne silk, with an oyster shawl, hair in its usual sleek chignon, her critical gaze sweeping over me like I’m used to.

“You look nice. Remember to smile, and keep your shoulders back. No slouching, or you’ll look like the hunchback of Notre Dame in the wedding videos.”

I suppress the urge to roll my eyes. She would always say they’d stick like that if I’m not careful.

“Is he here?” The question bursts out before I can stop it.

Uncertainty flickers in her expression. “I’m sure he’ll be here any moment.”

But I’m not sure, and after she’s gone, I sit and wait, wondering why I’m even bothering.

I wish I could call him, but the stylist made me leave my phone back at Grayfleet. Apparently, a phone is not needed when one is getting married. He also never officially gave me his number, and calling him would show that I care.

And I shouldn’t.

The officiant knocks. “Five minutes, Miss Lovett.”

“Is the groom?—”

“Not yet, but I’m sure he’s just running late.”

Five minutes. He could still get here in five minutes. There’s still time.

I find myself staring at my reflection in the small mirror at the bride who’s waited her whole life to feel seen. Last night, Troy saw me in the darkness, and even under the bed. And he didn’t pull away.

And now I won’t either.

Not because my father arranged it, but because Iwantit.

Even knowing who Troy is, what he’s done, what he’s truly capable of….I want him, darkness and all. Tied to that chair with his razor at my throat, I should have been horrified. And I was.But underneath the fear was something else that recognized his darkness and whispered,It’s always been him.

Not my sister’s voice this time either.

Mine.

For the first time, I know what I want. And I want to tell him that. That I choose him and this marriage, even if it’s insane, even if everyone would say I’m making a terrible mistake. I don’t want this to be a fake wedding anymore. I want it to be real. But I’m so nervous that he won’t show. What if I don’t get the chance?

Another knock makes me jump.

“It’s time, Miss Lovett.”

My father appears, offering his arm. “Are you ready?”

I stand and take it, peering into the church. “Is he here?”

“I have no idea.” And his awkward hold on my arm makes me feel even sicker in my stomach. “Come on. Everybody’s waiting for you. We’re not going to be the ones to break this damn deal.”

The nausea follows me through the doorway and into the main chapel. Then the organ starts with that traditional wedding march, the guests all stand, and everybody looks.

Yet, all I feel is dread.

And as I look toward the altar where I’m supposed to meet my future husband…

It’s empty.

No groom is there waiting.

Just the officiant looking uncomfortable, and Mr. Mundel standing there as best man, with fifty faces staring at me with pity.