Golden Burn (Songs of Crime #1)

33. Etta

33

Etta

‘Golden Hour’ - Kacey Musgraves

“ W hat is the purpose of this?” Ford asks, exasperated by the length of my veil. I laugh nervously as he tries to straighten it. Dom pushes him away when his big fingers pull at the material and messes with the pins holding it in place.

Time has had no meaning, no substance during the first half of the day. Resting a slight hangover after drinking whatever cocktail Ford handed me as we chatted late into the night—I went through the motions of showering and getting ready in a daze. I didn’t truly process what was going to happen later in the day until Martise came into the bathroom and asked if I wanted help with my hair—she even went as far as fixing my hack job haircut that I’d given myself the night before I was kidnapped. A night that seems eons ago.

“You’ve done enough,” Martise chastises, shoving Ford out of the room. “No more touching. That’s my job.” Ford pouts, but Dom grabs his hand and takes him to give us space.

“Are you sure you’re okay with doing this?” I ask Martise as I fiddle with the satin gloves on my hands.

“Yes, of course. I’m honored.”

I asked Martise if she could be the one to walk me down the aisle. As much as Ford or Dom escorting me would have made me happy, they don’t emanate the energy that I’m seeking this morning.

A mother’s care. A friend with a feminine touch.

Although we haven’t known each other long, having Martise by my side calms me during a very emotional situation. She reads my moods and their deeper meaning without poking for a reason behind them. She offers her reassurance when I need it the most. She’s the perfect person to hand me off to my future husband.

Odin.

Harvey .

Thinking about his confession last night tears at my heart. The memory of his expression, raw and vulnerable and hopeful, rips at my bloody walls, forcing more room for him to make a home.

Rolling my shoulders back, I breathe and breathe, remembering that this is still a day crackling with tension. I need to have my wits about me. I need to keep up the ruse that Odin and I are enemies. I can’t let them see how elated I am.

Admiring myself in the mirror, I imagine my mother beside me just this once. I imagine her hair all done up, her makeup looking perfect, and her brown eyes watery. I imagine she is near bursting with love for her only daughter. I imagine she can’t stop fiddling with my dress, touching my cheek and telling me how proud she is. I imagine she wishes me a wonderful life with my soon-to-be husband and that she can’t wait to be a grandmother.

I imagine her like that—beaming and warm and real.

Then I tuck her away to bring out later when I’m not standing in front of a room full of strange people who barely know me.

My makeup is flawless and fresh. My hair is curled and pinned, kissing my jaw. My dress is steamed and wrinkle free, tailored to fit my frame perfectly. My shoes are polished and slightly worn in. My wedding band sits in Dom’s pocket, gleaming gold. My veil floats down my back, waiting to be pulled over my face when the time is right.

I breathe once more.

Then I head out into the living room.

Ford and Dom stand when I enter. Both of them blink rapidly. Ford is speechless, but I notice the wonder in his eyes. Dom is the more composed, but then I see him wipe something out from under his glasses and I can’t help but laugh.

“Am I a sight to behold or what?”

“You’re stunning,” Martise offers and comes to grab my gloved hands. “Odin is a lucky, lucky man.”

Ford and Dom come to my side. Without direction, we all grab hands. Ford in mine and Martise in the other. Dom in between the two.

Something happened last night.

Something clicked into place.

And these people right here, they mean more to me than I ever thought possible. They accepted me into their group, sheltered me and provided for me when they could have done the opposite. I’ll cherish them for the rest of my life.

With our hands intertwined, Martise speaks. “No matter what happens today, this is not about the Lombardos. This is about two people coming together. This is about faith and love. This is about renewal. This is about making a brighter future.”

“Amen,” Ford mumbles.

“But also,” Dom adds, “If the flowers aren’t fresh, I’ll fucking throw a fit.”

We all burst out laughing. Ford breaks the circle to grab Dom by the face and kiss him hard. It’s the most precious thing I have ever seen.

Then, like the universe is playing a joke on me, it’s time to go.

It’s time to get hitched.

“I’m hot. Are you hot?” I ask Martise, fanning my armpits.

She chuckles. “Yes, it’s warm, but you’re just nervous, my darling.”

I am. I’m so fucking nervous.

The restaurant is full of people. Only twenty, apparently. But it seems like thousands. The celebrant introduced himself to me, but I can’t remember his name. I haven’t been to a wedding in years. What the fuck do I do? What the fuck do I say? How do I pee in this dress and still maintain my dignity?

Martise slips her arm into my elbow and squeezes. “Just breathe, walk slowly, and focus.”

“Okay. Okay.”

“Don’t forget to look pissed.”

I groan, thankful we’re alone. “I don’t know if I can do it. I’m going to see him and smile.”

“I know. But you can’t, not now. Save it for the honeymoon.”

“The honeymoon, okay. Okay.”

Gwen appears out of nowhere and gives us a signal. Music starts and Martise pulls my veil over my face. It catches on my eyelashes and makes my stomach seize when I can’t see clearly. My heart is pumping a million miles an hour. I can’t stop sweating. I’m going to be sick.

This is ridiculous.

How can I make it through this day without smiling at Odin?

“It’s time,” Martise whispers, and I want to say no. I want to run away. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this.

I’m doing this.

The doors open, and the music comes to life in my ears.

Kacey.

Kacey Musgraves.

I gasp. My legs wobble.

The lyrics and the melody of my favorite song float from the speakers. Light enough that most wouldn’t even recognize it. But I do. And that touch sends my feet propelling down the aisle.

Martise pulls me back and whispers into my ear, “Easy.”

I’m surprised I even hear her. My attention is so focused on the man standing at the end of the aisle that I can’t think clearly.

Odin. Harvey. My fiancé.

He’s impossibly handsome in his black suit and matching bow tie. Old Hollywood classic with a roguish touch. The gold-plated eyepatch shines under the lights hanging from above the makeshift altar. His straight jaw and styled hair are slightly muffled from behind the veil. But his sharp gray eye finds me and holds my attention. Cold as the moon and as warm as an oversized jumper.

My facade slips.

All I do is stare. I don’t know if I looked appalled, stunned, or shocked.

But I know what I feel.

I feel everything .

We reach the end of the short aisle, and Odin reaches for my hand. Martise places it in his grip. Carefully, she peels back the veil and presses a quick kiss on my cheek.

This is it.

It’s happening.

I look up at Odin’s face and my chin wobbles as I fight my impending smile. To the audience, I must appear so heartbroken that I’m trying not to cry.

But only he and I know it’s the opposite. Our little secret.

My heart is beating fuller than it has in years. It’s thumping to the same rhythm as his. Smashing against my ribcage, begging to be let free.

Oh.

It’s done.

I’ve fallen.

Keeping his voice low, his lips hardly moving, Odin leans toward me. “Just pretend.” I can’t process his words, not when he smells this good, not when his fingers grip onto mine, his touch unable to reach its full effect because of the gloves covering my skin.

If I ripped them off right now, it would ruin us.

Thankfully, the celebrant begins to speak. Odin turns from me to look at him, dropping my hand.

Good. Okay. Good.

Not good.

I need this to stop. I don’t want this to continue. I don’t want to pretend to hate Odin when I absolutely do not. I don’t want our wedding to be remembered like this, if for some reason, down the track, we actually decide to stay together. To love each other.

His presence by my side soothes the spinning ball of anxiety in my chest.

Today is not as special as the one that comes after. Because tomorrow, none of these people will be witness to the moment I wake up next to my husband. None of them get to see him like I do. None of them are important, and so, I will not imbue this moment with any more pressure than it deserves.

Straightening, I cool my racing heart and put my mask back on.

I sense Odin’s worry abates when my breathing mostly comes back under control. Only a few more minutes before I deal with the uncertainty of the rest of my life.

The celebrant’s smooth voice takes the lead, filling the ceremony space that I have barely had a chance to admire. I hope the flowers are fresh, for Dom’s sake.

“I am duly authorized to solemnize marriages according to law. Before you are joined in marriage in my presence and in the presence of these witnesses, I am to remind you of the solemn and binding nature of the relationship that you are about to enter. Marriage, according to the law, is the union of two people to the exclusion of all others. Voluntarily entered into for life.”

Peering behind me, I find Ford, Dom, and Martise sitting in the front row. Juniper is on the end of the aisle, being such a good girl, it eats away at my composure.

Before I know it, it’s time to exchange rings. Dom passes them both to Odin, a silent conversation occurring between them. Dom pats him on the back and returns to his seat. I see the slight tremor in Odin’s shoulders.

This is just as hard for him as it is for me.

The celebrant explains our vows, and Odin goes first. “I call upon the persons present to witness that I, Harvey, take you, Harriet, to be my lawfully wedded wife.” He slides the ring over my gloved hand. A simple gold band, but nothing about its meaning is simple.

Shivering, I speak next and try to keep a slightly distressed expression across my face and a wobble in my voice. “I call upon the persons present to witness that I, Harriet, take you, Harvey, to be my lawfully wedded husband.”

I place the matching ring on Odin’s finger. It catches on his knuckle. I want to laugh at the absurdity of this moment. I should be able to joke about this. I should be turning to my family, embarrassed by the delay.

But I can’t. So, I give it a shove and drop my hands like they’ve been burnt.

Odin’s face remains neutral. Cold. Brutally beautiful.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the celebrant says, and a stiff applause follows. My eyes catch on Cerbera and my stomach heaves with the intensity of a tsunami. I hate that man. More than I ever thought I hated Odin.

I keep that sentiment in my head as Odin reaches for my veil and pulls it over the both of us. I have no idea if this is a tradition that I was somehow unaware of, but I don’t argue. Once in place over his shoulders, it hides us from view. A canopy of his own design. A wall between them and us.

“Not real,” he whispers, right before he grabs my face and presses a harsh kiss to my lips. I gasp into his mouth, fighting back tears as he holds me against him.

This is not the first kiss between wife and husband.

This is a desperate distraction. A gesture meant to fool those in attendance. It hurts how much I wish it wasn’t so. Because this isn’t Odin I’m kissing. This is the man they created when they killed his wife and broke his soul.

This is awful and hurried, and when he breaks it, my lips are bruised and my jaw hurts from the force of his grip.

When the veil is removed by his hands, I slap him hard across the face. So hard that the crowd of onlookers gasp. The satin of my gloves cushions the pain, but I feel it, nonetheless, ricocheting back into me.

Odin barely flinches. He takes the hit, his eyepatch shifting. I want to sob, watching him fight the need to touch it in front of everyone.

I can barely breathe. The air can’t inflate inside my lungs because my dress is too tight. The veil is too heavy, and my heart is too frenzied.

My new husband takes my wrist—not my hand—and marches me back down the aisle. The tears that spill are real. And I don’t dare wipe them away. If it adds to the deception, if it convinces enough people to think I hate this, then so be it. But I can’t hold it forever.

Sensing this, Odin drags me out of the ceremony space and makes a beeline for a separate room away from prying eyes. It’s some sort of private dining suite. I don’t care what it is as long as it’s empty.

He locks the door, checking twice that it’s safe, and instantly, I’m upon him. “I’m so sorry,” I breathe, collapsing against him.

“No, Harriet,” he says as he catches me. “I deserved it. It made me fucking sick to do that.” He holds me upright and wipes away the stray tears.

It’s over. We did it. Now all I want is for Odin to take me away. “Is my mascara running?” I ask, sniffing away the sadness.

Odin’s voice is soft, his touch gentle. “No, sweetheart. It’s not.” Thank goodness we don’t have to act right now. I’m done with the all the fucking games.

My hands tug at the lapels of his suit, pulling him close to me. “You better kiss me properly.” His scent is heavenly, the most perfect blend of cologne and natural pheromones.

“Or what?” he mocks, his lips curling into that handsome smile I dream of often.

“Or I’ll stab you for real,” I tease, brushing my lips against his, sending sparks dancing down my spine.

Odin’s breath is hot and sweet as he whispers, “You already have.” He grabs my neck and holds me still. “ You. You are fucking perfection.” His thumbs rub against my cheek, a soft sort of claiming. “My wife.”

I smile so big, so wide. If someone had told me a few weeks ago that I would be happy on this day. I would never have believed them.

But when Odin kisses me, I soar.