Page 43 of My Big Fat Fake Alien

Madison smirks, adjusting her maid-of-honor dress. “Oh, I’m sure Jareth can handle it. That guy’s built like a brick house. I’m more worried about him breaking the aisle in half when he walks.”

The planner laughs, but I don’t miss the way Madison’s eyes flicker to me, filled with unspoken questions. She knows Jareth’s not exactly human. Hell, after everything I’ve told her about Karc and the Vakutan, I’m surprised she’s still holding it together. But if anyone can handle this insanity, it’s Madison.

As Madison heads out, Mom steps up, her straw hat perched perfectly on her head like always. She hugs me carefully, her hands trembling. “You look beautiful, sweetheart. Just beautiful.” Her voice cracks, and she wipes a tear from her cheek. “I’m going to take my seat now. You take your time, okay? Let’s make sure your father hasn’t passed out from all the excitement.”

She leaves, and I’m alone for a moment, the weight of the lies pressing down on me like a leaden blanket. The door creaks open, and Dad steps in, his eyes already misty.

“Raven,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. He takes me in, his gaze lingering on the dress, the veil, the flowers. “You look like a damn princess. I always knew you’d grow up to be something special, but this? Marrying a man like Kirk Stevens? I never would have imagined it.”

I bite my lip, fighting the urge to cry. “Dad, I?—”

He holds up a hand, cutting me off. “Now, don’t you go getting all emotional on me. I’m the one who’s supposed to cry at weddings, not the bride.” He chuckles, but there’s a sadness in his eyes that hits me like a punch to the gut. “I just… I want you to know how proud I am of you. You’ve always been so strong, so independent. I know I haven’t always been the best dad, what with the moonshine and the redneck nonsense, but?—”

“Dad,” I interrupt, stepping forward and hugging him tightly. “Stop. You’re the best dad I could’ve asked for. I’m not embarrassed of you. Not ever. You and Mom? You’re my family. That’s all that matters.”

He hugs me back, his arms tight around me. “I love you, kiddo.”

“I love you too, Dad.”

The wedding planner’s voice cuts through the moment, sharp and insistent. “Time for the march of the bride! Are we ready?”

Dad pulls back, offering me his arm. “Ready to get hitched, kiddo?”

I take a deep breath, my heart pounding in my chest. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

The doors swing open, and my heart slams against my ribs like it’s trying to escape. I’m pinned under the weight of a thousand eyes, but it’s Karc’s gaze that nearly brings me to my knees. He stands at the altar, a tower of elegance in his tailored tuxedo, his orange eyes burning through me like a laser. There’s something raw in that look, something that makes my knees wobble and my breath halt.

“Easy, kiddo,” Dad mutters under his breath, his arm tightening around mine. “You got this.”

I swallow hard, forcing one foot in front of the other. The chapel is a cathedral of decadence, all marble floors and gilded arches, with sunlight streaming through stained glass windows. The air smells like lilies and anxiety, and every step feels like walking through molasses. My dress swishes around my legs, the train trailing behind me like a ghost of the life I’m leaving behind.

Karc’s eyes never leave mine. Not once. His human disguise is flawless, but I know what’s beneath it—scales, strength, a heart that beats with the rhythm of a warrior. His smile is soft, but there’s a shadow in it, a sadness that twists my insides. He’s not just playing a part anymore, and neither am I. This isn’t just about the mission.

“Dad,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “What if I’m making a mistake?”

He stops mid-step, turning to face me. His eyes are glassy, but he grins, his big, gruff voice cutting through the tension. “Raven, you’re the smartest person I know. If you’re doing this, there’s a damn good reason. And besides,” he adds, noddingtoward Karc, “that guy? He looks at you like you’re the only thing in the room worth seeing. That’s something, kiddo.”

I blink back tears, squeezing his arm. “Thanks, Dad.”

We keep walking, and with each step, Karc’s presence grows stronger, pulling me toward him like a magnet. My stomach churns, my hands clammy inside my gloves. I want to scream. I want to stop this whole charade, to tell everyone the truth. But I can’t. The world’s counting on us, and I’m not going to let it down.

When I finally reach the altar, Dad places my hand in Karc’s, his grip warm and steady. “Take care of her,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.

“Always,” Karc replies, his voice low and certain. He squeezes my hand, and I swear I feel his scales beneath the disguise, the faintest hint of the alien strength hidden beneath his skin.

The reverend clears his throat, smiling at us like we’re just another happy couple. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in the bonds of matrimony…”

Karc leans in, his lips brushing my ear. “You look stunning,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my skin. “But you always do.”

I glance up at him, my heart racing. “You clean up pretty good yourself,” I whisper back, trying to keep my voice light. But inside, I’m a mess. His hand tightens around mine, and for a moment, everything else fades away. It’s just him and me, the altar, and the weight of what we’re about to do.

The reverent continues, his voice a distant hum. Karc’s thumb brushes over my knuckles, and I realize I’m shaking. He doesn’t say a word, but his eyes tell me everything I need to know. He’s here. He’s not going anywhere. And somehow, that makes it harder, because this isn’t real. Not for him. Not for me. Not yet.

My heart’s pounding so hard it feels like it’s going to burst through my chest. The reverent’s voice drones on, blending with the muffled coughs and whispers of the guests. I’m frozen, staring at Karc—Kirk—who’s looking at me like I’m the only thing in the room. His grip on my hand tightens, and I feel the faintest hint of his scales beneath the illusion of his human disguise.

Then, out of nowhere, he interrupts the reverend. “I’m sorry, everyone,” Karc says, his voice smooth and confident, like he does this at every wedding. “I wouldn’t be Kirk Stevens if I didn’t put my own stamp on things.”

The crowd laughs, and for a moment, the tension eases. But then he leans in, his lips brushing my ear as he whispers, “The wedding may be fake, but my love for you is not. I love you, Raven.”

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