Always and Only You

Chapter Ten

CHAPTER TEN

Present Day

The vicar’s words hit me like a punch in the temple. The joining of Erin and Gil in holy matrimony? I don’t think so!

I turn around again, twisting my body, desperate to find a face that looks as shocked as mine must be. But Mum is smiling. Anjali gives me a wink and a thumbs up. I shoot a look at Simon and he seems … not happy, but not upset or furious. He looks … ambivalent.

He doesn’t care about the vicar’s mistake, that he’s trying to marry me off to his best friend instead of him?

I make a noise that is partway between a hiccup and a sob. What’s happening? This can’t be real. It can’t …

Warm relief floods through me.

It can’t be real.

It’s not real.

I want to turn to the gathered audience, laugh and say, ‘It’s just a dream! I’m having another one of those stupid nightmares!’ But even in my dreams, too many years of being the ‘good girl’, of not making waves in the hope it might get me a pat on the head or some gold-plated words of recognition, fuel my actions. Even when the minister asks if someone knows why Gil and I shouldn’t be joined in matrimony, I keep my mouth shut.

But I don’t need to say anything, do I? I just need to do one thing … I need to wake up.

And it’ll happen in a moment. It always does. I rarely get to hear the vicar launch into his spiel, but why wouldn’t my jangled subconscious go the extra mile the night before my wedding? After tomorrow, the dreams won’t have any power over me, so it’s making sure this one counts. But I’ll have the last laugh because, in a few seconds, I’ll startle awake, heart pounding, and all of this will be a fleeting memory.

So when the vicar asks us to turn and look each other in the eye, I do it. I feel like a robot, as if I’m standing outside myself, all the leads to my emotions disconnected and dangling.

When Gil’s eyes go soft, even though his jaw is still tight, his manner contained as always, I hear him say he’ll take me to be his wife, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, but I feel nothing. And when my mouth opens and closes, when I tell him I’ll love him and cherish him until death us do part, I don’t mean it. They’re just words. Sounds. Vehicles to propel me through this moment to the next.

I barely feel the slide of the wedding band onto my finger, even though Gil has trouble getting it over my knuckle, causing the congregation to join as one in indulgent laughter. His ring goes on perfectly. No problems at all, and I stare at it as the minister’s words wash over me.

Before this congregation … Joining of hands …

Husband and wife.

I dully register a cheer behind me, but I’m still looking down at the band of white gold. I can see myself reflected in it, tiny and distorted, and I can’t seem to make myself look away.

And then the next words hit my auditory processing nerves loud and clear: ‘You may now kiss the bride.’