The one responsible for Charlotte’s happiness.
Yeah. I want that.
We get into position, me standing under the arbor by myself, the wedding planner making her demands, coordinating everyone as music starts to play from a small speaker set on a chair. Charlotte’s brothers escort their mother down the aisle, showing her to her chair before they settle in beside her. Winston follows after them with our mother, helping her to her seat on our side of the aisle and then takes his position next to me as my best man. Keaton is next, Tinsley on his arm, the both of them smiling as they join us, like this is the most fun they’ve had in a while.
Sometimes it feels like everyone thinks this is a big joke, and maybe to them, it is.
But this is my life. Everything is going to change after this moment. I’ll be married. I’ll have a wife. It might be in name only, but she’ll become my obligation—one I’m realizing I don’t mind. It’s my job to take care of her, and make sure she’s safe. From everyone.
Including her family.
The music fades into another song and the few people sitting in the chairs rise to their feet as if on cue. I stand taller, clutching my hands behind my back, my gaze finding Charlotte as her father leads her to the start of the aisle.
I didn’t really look at her before when I first arrived, but I drink her in now. That dress…what the hell is she wearing? It looks fucking see-through with some strategically placed pink petals covering the majority of it. The heels are high and the skirt is short—what a surprise—and despite the worry I see in her eyes, she looks…
Stunning.
Blowing out a breath, I brace myself as they make their approach.
“Walk slower!” the wedding planner screeches, making me wince.
Making Winston utter a couple of choice curse words under his breath.
They slow their pace, Charlotte ducking her head for a moment, smiling to herself.
I smile, too.
She lifts her head, her blue eyes meeting mine and it’s as if everything else falls away. The music, the wedding planner, my snickering brother, her scowling father.
They all disappear.
It’s just me and my bride.
The music stops, and the silence is deafening. Everyone is watching us.
“Okay, Mr. Lancaster, tomorrow the music will still be playing as you hand over Charlotte to Perry,” the wedding planner instructs.
“The minister doesn’t ask who’s giving this woman in wedded matrimony?” Reginald huffs, irritated.
“Oh, these last few years, we’ve taken that bit out. Too antiquated.” Miranda smiles, and I can tell she’s nervous.
Reginald Lancaster has a way of setting people on edge.
“Daddy,” Charlotte urges. “We need to practice you handing me over to Perry.”
I really fucking hate how she calls him daddy. Like it’s a term of endearment, when he treats her like garbage.
“Do not tell me what to do, young lady.” His voice is sharp as he reprimands her. And just a little too loud.
Prime example of the treating-her-like-garbage assessment.
I take a step forward, clasping Charlotte’s arm and gently steering her away from her father as I send him the dirtiest look I can muster. He glares at me in return, and I wonder if I will ever get along with this man.
Probably not.
Charlotte doesn’t say a word during the exchange, hooking her arm through mine as we turn to stand in front of the bogus minister—AKA the wedding planner—and she starts the ceremony.
“Will you have personally written vows for each other?” she asks before the vows begin. “Now is the perfect time to rehearse them, of course, if you have them written. I know some people wait until the last minute.”