“Take it,” I say, pulling off my wet suit blazer and fixing it on her shoulders.
“Thank you,” she whispers back gratefully, pulling the front of the blazer together. It looks so big on her, only the tips of her fingers come out of the sleeveswhen she moves. I like her wearing my clothes. I noticed it back on our island. She looks so vulnerable under my suit that it evokes some ancient protective instinct in me.
Noah rushes to us, taking off his blazer. “Do you want to get the dry one? Here.”
“No,” I state firmly. “She’ll have mine.”
They both stare at me with wide eyes, and I lower my voice, facing her. “Stay in mine.” She blinks at me, a bit lost in the moment. So I add gentler, “Please.” Her having mine is crucial. She needs to have my clothes because it will touch her body. I don’t want her to wear anyone’s jackets ever again. She’s mine, and no one can take her.
Suddenly, the weight of the situation comes crashing down on me.
What if we didn’t stop that fire? Maeve seems to attract trouble. So being hurt during her own wedding because her ridiculous dress caught fire seems like something she’d do. Not by choice, but it seems to be the story of her life.
She watches me for a few moments before speaking. “Okay.”
Spoken in such a soft and compliant voice, she nearly makes me go insane. I didn’t know I needed to hear her say it. I didn’t know I needed for her to just agree with me without a fight. Just once.
“Okay.” I nod in return and help her toward the altar, leaving a smiling Noah behind us.
She stumbles a few times, probably due to adrenaline crashing down, and I catch her. I don’t even feel her weight. At all. Like she’s air. My muscles are taut, my movements jerky. Crashing with adrenaline is not an issue for me right now. Nor will it be for the next twenty-four hours, I feel—I don’t remember being so scared in my life.
“Well!” Her father claps his hands together. “Come, darling, let’s get you back to the altar.”
I tighten my hold on Maeve’s elbow because I feel a sudden murderous desire to throw her father in the ocean and keep him under the water.
“Ezra?” she whispers.
“Sorry.” Instantly releasing my grip, I help her to the altar.
Everyone’s camera is pointed at us. No matter how much money I give them, one of the greedy bastards will sell the photos. Tomorrow the whole world will see it. This is precisely why I wanted the ceremony to be as small as possible, and the number of guests to be zero.
I don’t notice Beatrice until I hear her quiet voice. “Are you really okay?” Glancing toward the voice, I find her touching Maeve’s shoulder with her hand. The gesture is careful like she’s scared to spook her.
Maeve’s hand covers Beatrice’s. “Yes. Don’t worry.”
The blonde sister doesn’t sound convinced. “Just say the word, and we will be out.”
A weak smile with a quick shake of Maeve’s head is her answer. So Beatrice steps back, picks up a flower lying on the sand, and heads to the altar.
I look down at Maeve. She’s clutching the front of my blazer at her chest, trying to keep it together. Her wet hair reminds me of the way she was on the island, wild and free. A far cry from the timid creature standing in front of me now.
“Now, let’s move on with the ceremony!” Mrs. Wrong announces cheerfully. “What a way to start a marriage! With a bang!”
It’s a fucking bang all right.
Shooting her a glare, I’m mentally trying to convince myself not to murder Maeve’s family. I thought I was forcing her into this situation, but more and more it looks like I’ll be saving her from her insane family. In ours, at least our mom is all right. In hers, they all seem to be out of touch.
Maeve mumbles something.
“This way!” Mrs. Wrong ushers us, pointing at the confused official at the altar. “He’s waiting.”
Maeve’s mumbling grows a little louder.
“Go on,” Mrs. Wrong continues her crusade.
Maeve’s mumbling turns into an audible whisper with clearer words.
“Maeve, honey, come on. Let’s finish this part so we can go and celebrate.”
