Faithfully

“Fucking hell, Grace,” best friend since grade school and my maid of honor, Elizabeth ‘Betty’ Jones was just as overwhelmed at my wedding as I was. “This is ridiculous.”

“Tell me about it,” I breathed out, squeezing my bouquet of roses. I had arrived with Betty and my mother an hour ago and instantly, before I even knew what was happening, I was being plastered with makeup, sprayed with hair spray and put into my dress. I stood at the closed cathedral doors with Betty, shaking. “I don’t even know my groom.”

“Hell, you’ve never even seen him,” she grunted, turning towards me with wide eyes. “What do you think he looks like?”

“Fifty something, going bald from age with a beer gut?” I suggested with misery, Betty frowned and flung her arms around me.

“I swear, it will be alright,” she grabbed my face and promised with a big warm smile. “He may even be cute? Huh? Stay positive.”

“Ready?” my father stood at my side, positively glowing with pride. I wish looks could kill, because if it came down to Betty and me, he would have died twice.

“Let’s get it over with,” I mumbled, biting back tears of fear and fright.

I did not want this.

Betty stood with a man I had never met before, he was the best man. Behind them were my cousin Hazel Smith and another unfamiliar man and then me and my grinning father. All I could think about was this was supposed to be the happiest day of my life and already I hated everything about it. The cathedral doors opened and I held back a gasp of shock. It was beautiful and filled with people I didn’t know.

I studied everything as I hesitantly stepped forward with my father. I knew I was avoiding looking at the alter and I probably would have managed to until I got there if I hadn’t heard Betty’s soft gasp and reflex took over. My gaze locked with a man standing where my groom was supposed to stand, he had his head held high and his shockingly blue eyes were studying me. He was gorgeous and young, the realization that he was my soon to be husband hit me just like it had Betty.

“Shit,” I whispered under my breath. My father tilted his head my way and chuckled. “Dad…”

“Yes,” he answered lowly.

“What’s his name again?” I asked shamefully, embarrassed that I really hadn’t paid a bit of attention to them all my life when they spoke of this day.

“James Beast, you should know that, Grace,” he scolded me quickly and then no words were said as he handed me off.

James took my hand and held it in his; he didn’t show a single expression on his handsome face so I had no clue if he was happy or as pissed as I was about all of this. The ceremony flew by within minutes, or maybe it just seemed like it because I was panicking about the honeymoon. I only knew when it was over with when James led me out of the cathedral to the horse drawn sleigh that would be taking us to the reception in his castle, I was on the verge of a full out anxiety attack when I heard his voice, a beautiful voice, speak directly to me for the first time since he repeated his vows and slid the ring on my finger. “Are you alright?” he asked, concerned.

I must have been turning a rather unnatural color for him to notice I was holding my breath.