Stranger At The Altar

ste

, instead it wrapped its fingers around my neck and squeezed. Every heel that clicked across the

n as I signed my name on the last

Grace

paper, more efficient than I'd ever

allowed to choose. Though calling it a choice was generous. A stylist had handed me three options: lace, satin, or tulle. I chose lace because it was the

iant muttered, his voice as

presence in a finely tailored charcoal-gray suit that fit like it was sculpted onto him. The fabric clung to

, his jaw defined and clean-shaven, his cheekb

all, deliberate rebellion against the otherwise grays

ated more like a clause than a person. The second was for formal photographs no one would ever see

A Westwood, by law

n his wrist without looking up. His voice was calm, clipped, businesslike, like he was dele

iver will collect yo

to be part of this farce to begin with. But mostly, I wanted to ask who he

polished floor as I walked to the exit. I passed men in expensive suits and women in heels who nodded p

low and gray, like i

iting car. The backseat smelled like new leather and pine, col

teel and shadow. Rain began to fall, light at first, then heavier. By the time I

e and locked th

ng day had come and gone. There wa

a con

too heavy f

of my hair. I hadn't lived in it very long, banana boxes were still stacked near the door, ful

e the hollowness in my face. My eyes were dull. My lips too

tinum band with an emerald-cut diamond sparkled like it meant

nt on skin that still felt like it belonged to someone else.Three quick

standing quickly an

his shoulders stooped under a weight he refused to name. His gray hair was combed neatly, but

?" he

l wh

was an inconvenience. "Did you sign?"

the thick folder of documents, the financial reports, legal s

he said, patting the fold

buys u

m, bile rising

uys you time,"

ile fa

he's capable of," I continu

oesn't marry. He a

w," he cut in, not u

all safe."I turned away before h

ow something. To burn this

there, stiff and sile

ut and have no one listen.He left with

by the window, knees pulled to my chest, watching th

me during the ceremony, as though I were a memo he ne

red to ruin companies before breakfast and charm boardrooms by

and never let anyone close enough to see the

erson, not as a woman. Just a nam

holders? Sometimes they s

.. they le

light, thin and pale behind streaks of rain clouds, a