Page 59 of Knotted

Showtime. Right.

I let out a long breath as we take those slow, deliberate steps down the aisle. Part of me is still half-expecting this to turn into some god-awful prank, but I kick that thought under the rug and focus on the rhythm of our steps, the steady grip of my father’s arm, and not tripping in these insane heels Taylor picked out that were not meant for grass.

The pastor waits until the strings fade away to begin. “Who gives this woman to be married?” And for a split second, time seems to freeze.

“No one does,” Dad says, his voice firm, almost defiant. My heart skips a beat, mortification clawing at my throat as I brace for impact, and just before my mother has an outright heart attack, Dad adds, “Instead, we take Brian Bishop into our fold.”

That’s my dad—always giving tradition the middle finger.

Brian steps forward, extending his hand. “I’m honored, sir.” My dad takes it without hesitation, their handshake firm, a silent agreement passing between them.

As Dad turns to me, tears glisten in his eyes. He kisses both my cheeks with a tenderness that catches me off guard, a lump forming in my throat.

He places my hand in Brian’s, his grip lingering just a moment longer, as if he’s trying to say everything he can’t put into words. Then, with a final nod, he steps back and returns to his seat.

“Hey,” Brian says, his voice low and steady, almost reverent.

“Hey,” I manage to reply, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to keep it together.

Before I can gather my thoughts, Brian says, “Before we begin, I have a small surprise.”

If it’s Peach Pops, he is so dead.

Brian gestures subtly, and suddenly, the fairy lights are extinguished. Every candle is blown out except for the few surrounding us. The garden plunges into darkness, leaving nothing but the mountains, the starlit sky, and a single candle burning beside us.

Then, as if on cue, fireflies begin to dance around us, their tiny lights flickering in the night, casting a magical glow that feels almost otherworldly.

I feel tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. Because we both know this is just an act, right?

I lean in closer, my voice a soft whisper meant only for him. “Why are you doing all this?”

His answer is quiet, but it takes my breath away. “BecauseI’ll never marry anyone else, Jules. I want it to be memorable. For both of us.”

And under that endless night sky, surrounded by the gentle flicker of fireflies, we say our vows.

I become his wife.

To have and to hold.

In sickness and in health.

“To love and to cherish, for as long as we both shall live.” He speaks the words with such reverence, such sincerity, that for a moment, I want to believe it.

But deep down, I know it’s a lie.

It’s all a lie.

Isn’t it?

Colby hands over the rings. Brian’s is a stately white gold band, understated and timeless, sliding onto his finger like it was made for him. It probably was.

But mine—mine steals the air from my lungs. A stunning solitaire, haloed in a delicate ring of diamonds, that catches the light and glimmers with every movement. It’s not just perfect; it’s so me it actually scares me.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

He must catch the flicker of doubt in my eyes because he cups my face in his hands, his grip firm yet achingly gentle. “Kiss me, Jules,” he murmurs, his voice low and electric, more command than request. I don’t hesitate—I can’t.

The moment his lips touch mine, soft and tender at first, a shiver races down my spine, igniting an inferno of emotion and heat. His arms wrap around me, pulling me in so tight that something inside me finally snaps.

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