As I look inside the church and see his guests, nothing about this feels simple.
The pews to the left hold the cartel heads and some of their families. The pews to the right are filled with Mikhail’s guests. The Bratva.
When the organist starts playing the traditional wedding march song, I move and look straight ahead, neither to the left nor the right, and I walk.
When I get to the middle of the church, I look at my groom, and he watches me, too.
His father is standing next to him, and he is next to the priest.
Our eyes lock and I want to look away, but I can’t.
I feel his brother’s eyes on me as I walk by, but I don’t look in his direction. I just note his existence from my periphery.
Who I’m focused on is the man ahead of me who stole me away and stole my heart, too. A man I know I mustn’t love.
I’m still so confused because I think I do.
If I didn’t fall for him, I don’t think I would feel like this, and my heart wouldn’t yearn for him.
That last time we were together, I gave him everything. Everything I said I wouldn’t give. He never had to take it. I all but handed it to him on a platter so he could have it. Have me.
So, the only person to blame here is me.
When I reach him, my legs shake and my hands tremble so much the lilies in the bouquet shudder.
In the bright sunlight, those honey-colored eyes greet me, taking me in. When he looks at me in that way, it’s hard to forget the way we were when we were last together.
Mikhail’s eyes bore into me as I study his handsome face.
Is he thinking of that last time, too?
If he is, does he feel anything, or nothing?
Maybe what I thought I got from him is all in my head.
The priest is talking, but I don’t hear. Mikhail breaks eye contact with me and looks at him, so I assume it must be time to start the ceremony.
I met Father Gabriel once in the last week when he came by the house to go over the vows with me. He’s a tall man with lily-white hair and dark green eyes. He looks at both of us fondly with a smile. When we first met, I got the impression he was accustomed to Mikhail.
I have the same impression now.
“You may now say your vows,” Father Gabriel says.
Mikhail turns to me and fixes his gaze to mine. I wonder how he’ll speak his vows without meaning them.
“I, Mikhail Yevgeny Dmitriyev, take you, Adriana Maria Alvarez, for my lawful wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.”
Adriana Maria Alvarez.
A wave of nausea hits me at the mention of her name, and the stab of jealousy. Even in death, on my wedding day, she still mocks me. She still takes from me. I am the joke because I’m not real. This man I shouldn’t have feelings for isn’t speaking his vows to me. He’s vowing to her. She is who he wants. Not Natalia Lily de Leon.
I glance at José, who I glimpsed to our far left. I’m not sure if he can see the sadness in my eyes from all the way over here, but he nods, and I return my focus to Mikhail.
It’s my turn to say my vows. and he’s looking at me with expectancy.
“I, Adriana Maria Alvarez, take you, Mikhail Yevgeny Dmitriyev, for my lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.” I say the words and feel numb.
We look at Father Gabriel again. It’s time to marry us. Time to seal the bond.
