It was my wedding day.
Chapter One
*Beginning of Fourth Wall Break: Listen, I know some of yall don’t read prologues, which is fair. But that one was extra important, so you might aught to go back and take a gander at it.
Additionally, quick reminder to go check those trigger warnings I listed iffin you need to.
End of Fourth Wall Break.*
***
-Eight Months Earlier-
Larken
I'm getting married.
In twenty minutes.
I'm getting married.
I'm going to have a husband. I'm going to be someone's wife.
In twenty minutes.
My last name is going to change. I won't be Larken Vincent anymore. I'll be Larken Nash. Mrs. Adrian Nash.
Mrs. Adrian Nash.
The next part of my life begins in twenty minutes.
As far as an eternity goes, twenty minutes isn't so bad. But I still have all of those minutes to pick apart my hair, my makeup, my dress, and my entire life while I stare at my reflection in the mirror. The only thing missing is the bouquet, which is with Regan right now. She's got the bouquet and the basket of rose petals Annaleigh is supposed to drop down the aisle.
My mother's dress needed only a few alterations. The top needed to be taken in just a little and the hem needed to be lifted a couple inches, but it fits perfectly. My father hasn't seen me in it yet. He wanted the full effect with the hair and the veil and everything. He promised he wouldn't cry, but I know he's going to.
I am a daddy's girl of epic proportion. I own that. We lost Mom when I was eleven years old and for the past seventeen years it's been just the two of us. Dad never wanted to remarry and I didn't complain. I was just a little girl and I reveled in his attention. We navigated our grief and took on our new world together.
He made sure I had the best of everything. The best clothes. The best shoes. The best vacations, and the best schools. He hired tutors when I needed them and I took years and years of cello lessons. I never became good at it, but that didn't stop him from encouraging me to keep at it. I wanted to be a concert cellist so badly and he didn't have the heart to tell me how terrible I was. He just kept shelling out money for strings and lessons and never gave up on me. I eventually came to terms with reality and gave it up, but the cello is still in the attic. Every now and then I go up there and look at it, but my fingertips start aching if I think about playing it for too long.
I stopped dreaming about playing cello when I was seventeen and started dreaming about becoming whatever I needed to be to help my dad with the company. I had an epiphany at one of my therapy sessions, I was an only child and I would eventually have to either run the company or sell it. And even at seventeen, I knew I would never give up my dad's company. He worked his whole life to build and build until he created Vincent Solutions and I wasn't going to let that go.
So I took every course my college offered that would help me help him and as soon as I graduated I started my internship on the ground floor. I wanted to really see how the company worked, to know everything about everything so I could do and handle it all. I loved it. I still love it.
Someone knocks on the door and I turn to open it but stop when Adrian's voice is on the other side. “It's me.”
“What's wrong?” I ask, panic creeping up the back of my neck as I open the door a few inches.
He laughs and starts pushing the door open. “Nothing, babe. Let me in. I brought you a wedding present. I want you to wear it.”
He can't be serious. He knows I've had my entire ensemble planned to the last detail for months. And he can't come in here. “You can't see me before the wedding,” I whisper-hiss, trying to keep the door from opening more than an inch or two. “It's bad luck.”
“Don't be ridiculous, Larken,” he says. “I'm just giving my bride a gift on our wedding day.” He pushes the door again and I have to make a choice between shoving my weight against it to keep him out or stepping back and letting him in. I don't want to get into a shoving match with my soon-to-be-husband and a door fifteen minutes before we get married, so I step back and out of the way. It's just a silly superstition anyway.
Adrian takes the time to look at me from head to toe. “The dress turned out really well. You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.” I want to gush about the work that went into the alterations and every single little change but Adrian holds up a rectangular jewelry box and hands it to me.
I open it to reveal a silver, heart-shaped pendant on a simple chain. There is a sapphire and diamond cluster in the center of the heart. It doesn't match anything. And I'm already wearing jewelry. “This is beautiful, Adrian. Thank you. But I'm already wearing my mom's jewelry.” He knows how important it is. He knows that I need to feel close to her today. We've talked about it so many times.
