Page 24 of Paper Roses

I work for a wedding-planning company, so it stands to reason that I’ve had vague thoughts about my own wedding. I’d imagined me and my bridegroom exchanging misty smiles and staring into each other’s eyes. Instead, the whole ceremony is alarmingly businesslike and passes in a dream. I’m aware of my voice saying the words and Jed’s deep tones doing the same, but everything else is just impression—the registrar’s soft voice, Jed’s hand warm in mine, the green pools of his eyes, and the seriousness of his gaze.

The only time I come out of this haze is when he produces the rings. They’re simple gold bands and it’s only then that I realise Jed isn’t wearing his ring from Mick. I shoot a shocked glance at him, but he studiously avoids looking at me.

Before I know it, the registrar pronounces us husband and husband, and it’s done. “You may kiss the groom,” she intones.

For a few seconds, Jed and I stare at each other. His eyes are very dark, and he raises one eyebrow queryingly.

I incline my head slightly and, as he leans in, I feel his mouth on mine for the first time. His beard prickles slightly, but his lips are full and soft, and I part my own lips instinctively. He stiffens and then his breath quickens, and I feel his tongue touch mine. Lust rolls over me like a tsunami, and I make a sound in my throat as our tongues tangle. It’s only when I feel the fabric of his suit crumpling under my fingers that I realise I’ve grabbed his shoulders to pull him closer.

He seems to jerk awake, his hands coming up to clutch my arms, probably to stop me from throwing myself at him anymore. He steps back, distress darkening his face.

My breath catches as an explosion of confetti cascades around us. When it clears, his face is calmer, no sign of turmoil. But I’d seen it, and my heart sinks.

The next few minutes are spent accepting hugs and loud congratulations and then we’re outside in the warm sunshine. Jed has his arm around me, but I know it’s for appearances’ sake. His body is rigid and his arm trembles slightly.

“So that’s done,” I say to him quietly.

His smile is too quick, and I realise that’s the way I felt about the entire event. Of course, I’d imagined my wedding would be more, but none of this is real, is it?

“We’re going to Rosa,” Jed says, naming one of my favourite Italian restaurants.

“Really?”

This time his smile is real and very kind. “Did you really think I wouldn’t mark this day, Artie?”

I grab his hand. “Thank you.”

“No need for that,” he says softly. “I like doing things for you.”

My heart rises up towards him. There’s nobody who can say that with as much truth as Jed. “And I like saying thank you.”

“I hope you’ll always be glad we did this,” he says solemnly.

A chill runs over my skin, as if he’s invited a spectre to our feast.

The meal is loud and full of laughter. The champagne flows, and Jed refills my glass repeatedly as everyone tries to outdo each other with wild speeches. I feel the fizz bubbling along my veins, and later I’ll blame the champagne for the happiness that seizes me.

I’m married to the man I love, and the increasingly raunchy and funny toasts make it seem as though we all are, in fact, celebrating that love and a real marriage. All my senses are tuned to Jed and how he sits so close, with his arm slung over my chair, his tie loosened, and his hair ruffled.

Occasionally, he’ll stroke the shiny new band on his finger. And as the meal progresses, I begin to notice signs that he’s not processing the scene the same happy way that I am. His face becomes more guarded, and a muscle in his jaw tics. He’s flushed from champagne, but instead of making him loud like the rest of us, he’s become increasingly quieter.

My stomach flips when he removes his arm from my chair. I note that his eyes are dark, and his face shadowed. He drains his glass, and I exchange a look with Daisy.

She presses her lips together, gives me a quick nod, and stands. “Well, I’m sure the happy couple have things to do.”

Everyone catcalls. Well, Raff does, but they all stand up, taking their cue.

The next few minutes are spent exchanging hugs.

“You go so well together,” Ingrid proclaims. “Iknewit.”

Daisy is the last to hug me. “Take care,” she says, and I know she’s referring to her earlier warning. I nod and whisper goodbye before she leaves.

Then Jed and I are alone.

He collapses into his chair, which is so unlike his usual controlled grace that it rattles me. He looks ahead, seemingly determined not to meet my eyes.

I settle cautiously at his side. “Jed?”

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