Page 112 of Resist

“I think so.” His eyes were closed.

I laughed. “I should’ve known better… you weren’t snoring.”

“Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be, is it? Kick the gunshot victim while he’s down.”

Guilt panged in my chest.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“You’re pouting.”

“How do you know I’m pouting?”

“I can hear it.”

I raised a sceptical eyebrow.

“I’m magic, remember?”

Taking his hand in mine, I grazed it over my cheek then raised it to my lips. “Yeah, you are.”

He sucked in a deep breath and the discomfort on his face pierced my chest.

“I might leave you two alone.” Jason stood up and made his way to the door.

“Wait!” Lucas opened his eyes, and Jason was by his side quicker than I could blink. “We didn’t get to formally meet,” Lucas said, sticking out his hand. “I’m Lucas, and I’m in love with your mum.”

Tears spilled from my good eye, and I simultaneously sobbed and laughed.

Jason smiled and shook Lucas’s hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

The sun sat high inthe sky, partially covered with clouds, a gentle breeze blowing white ribbons tied to numerous tree branches that were stretched out like welcoming arms. Waves crashed to the shore, and seagulls circled nearby, their obnoxious caw piercing the hushed murmur of people gathered around.

I lifted my head to find Lucas standing at the altar, his arm in a sling, his caramel hair lightly tousled. He was wearing a light grey tuxedo with a pale pink rose on his lapel, and my God was he a sight for my sore vagina.

I bit my lip when he glanced my way, his dimpled smile causing my teeth to clamp tighter. My poor lip.

He waved, so I waved back, and that was when we were all asked to stand as Sandra stepped onto the edge of white carpet rolled out to the end of the aisle. As all brides do, she looked stunning in her snug, white lace, below-the-knee dress that caught the sunlight and sparkled as she took slow, tenuous steps toward Fred, a small, pink posy of roses clutched in her petite hands.

At age fifty-nine, Sandra had found love again and was living a life she hadn’t expected to live after already taking similar steps in a similar dress toward a dissimilar man. It gave me hope, and that filled my heart with joy I’d long been without.

For seventeen years, I’d been in a marriage I should never have entered to begin with. It was a marriage of fear, power, resentment, and pain; a period of my life I wasn’t proud of but one that has shaped me to become a stronger person. Because we shouldn’t regret what we’re ashamed of, instead learning to use shame as a reminder never to fail ourselves again. And that was what I’d done; I’d remembered that my life wasmineto live.

Taking my seat, I watched as Sandra and Fred pledged their bodies, minds, and souls to one another, their eyes alight with adoration, their words said with love and promise in their hearts. And after the ceremony ended I took my place beside Lucas, both of us slow dancing on the makeshift dance floor.

“Purple is definitely my favourite colour,” he whispered into my ear.

I danced away from him and swayed my hips, the lilac chiffon of my skirt swinging in the breeze. “I know, why do you think I chose this dress?”

He removed the space between us and pulled me to his chest again, my hand coming to gently rest on his injured shoulder.

“You dance well with one arm.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “I do many things well with one arm.”

Memories of him knelt on the bed the night before, his cock in his hand, flashed across my mind, and I blushed. “Well, you do only need one arm for that.”