Page 38 of Midnight Wedding

But it’s the right decision for my family. This way, my mom and dad will be taken care of financially, and I’ll be able to have my baby without worrying about them. Maybe Arsen will make a good husband and father, or maybe he’ll be a total nightmare, but either way I’ll figure out how to deal with it.

I’m not going to cry right now.

My legs feel heavy as I walk back out into the living room. The priest is an older man. He looks tired and haggard, and gives me a little smile when I show my face. Arsen turns to look at me?—

And his face brightens.

It’s strange. I’m not even sure it’s real. But one second, he’s chatting with the old man, and the next he’s looking at me like I’m the only ray of sunlight on a cloudy day.

Like he’s basking in me.

“Let’s get this over with,” Tigran says. He’s in the kitchen pouring himself a drink.

Arsen looks away from me and his expression fades. “I don’t want to hear any more from you.”

“Why not, big brother? I can’t comment on this fucking farce?”

“Tigran.” Arsen’s tone is low and warning.

“The girl’s nobody. What the hell are we even doing here? She’s pretty, sure, but she’s just some Russian chick with frizzy hair and bad nails.”

I look down at my hands. Bad nails? They’re not perfect, but come on. That actually stings.

Arsen marches over to his brother. Tigran steps back, but Arsen doesn’t hesitate. He swings a fist and slams it straight into his brother’s face. Tigran’s jaw slams back and he grunts in surprise, collapsing back against the counter. The two men glare at each other, neither of them backing down, and I’m pretty sure my wedding night is about to turn into an outright brawl.

“She is going to be my wife,” Arsen says, his voice a dark threat. “You can talk to me like that, but you will respect her.”

“You’re going to fight me over some fucking?—”

Arsen raises his fists again. “My wife,” he snarls.

There’s another horrible moment where I’m sure they’re going to kill each other. But Tigran finally curses, grabs the bottle of whiskey, and takes a long pull. “Fuck it. Here’s to your marriage, brother.” He shoves the bottle over to Arsen, who takes a quick sip.

“Glad we cleared that up.”

Arsen turns away. He stalks over, grabs my arm, and drags me over to where the priest is cringing in the corner. The man looksterrified and exhausted like someone dragged him out of bed in the middle of the night.

Which is probably accurate.

“Ah, Mr. Sarkissian—” That’s the first time I’ve ever heard Arsen’s last name. “You know, it’s unusual?—”

“Start saying the fucking words,” Arsen snaps. He turns to face me and grabs my hands in his. “Do the short version.”

The priest clears his throat. “Right, ah, yes. Well, I suppose the only important part is the vows.” He fumbles open a well-worn bible marked with little sticky notes to a specific page and starts to read. “Do you, Arsen Sarkissian, take this woman to be your wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death do you part?”

He doesn’t even hesitate. “I do.”

The priest repeats the vows for me but has to pause to ask my name, and I’m thinking this is a total fucking mess and an obscenity and really nobody should be doing this at all. Except Arsen’s grip on my hands tightens like he’s not sure what I’m going to say and his eyes are burning into my face like he can’t possibly look away, and now the priest is waiting for me to answer.

I don’t. I can’t. I won’t. Please, God, don’t make me.

“I do,” I whisper.

“Then by the powers vested in me by the state?—”

Arsen doesn’t even wait for him to finish. My husband pulls me into his arms and crushes my mouth against his in a blistering,entirely inappropriate kiss, his tongue invading past my teeth and lapping me up, claiming me, dominating me, a kiss like I’ve never been kissed before in my life, and for a dizzy moment, nobody else exists in the world.

Until he breaks away and I’m left panting in his arms.

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