Page 2 of My Big, Fat, Accidental Billionaire Husband

The music starts. Not the traditional march. Rylan and I agreed on a string quartet playing an instrumental version of the first song we danced to. I’d insisted on that detail.

My eyes start to tear up when I hear the music, but I blink them back. I promised myself I wouldn’t cry.

I bet Rylan’s openly weeping though. He always gets emotional during times like this.

God, I hope seeing those doe-eyed, tearful eyes of his doesn’t set me crying, too. The last thing I need is to turn into a human sprinkler system in front of everyone I’ve ever met.

The doors open. The chapel is full of faces turning toward me, smiles blooming like the roses clutched in my hands.

I focus on my breathing, on not tripping, and on the fact that shortly I’ll be married to the man I love.

One foot in front of the other. Just like walking into a boardroom. Except with better shoes and much higher stakes.

Three steps in, my eyes search for Rylan at the altar. I blink, scanning the front of the chapel.

That’s weird. Where is he? Maybe he stepped behind the minister for some reason? Or had a last-minute bathroom emergency?

My pace falters slightly as I continue walking. My father reassuringly squeezes my arm, as if to say ‘he’ll be here.’

But by halfway down the aisle, there’s no denying it. Rylan isn’t here. Only his best friend James is present, standing awkwardly with a crooked boutonnière.

Oh god. Oh no. This isn’t happening.

The wedding coordinator was wrong. Like, somebody-should-revoke-her-professional-license wrong.

My stomach plummets through the floor, probably continuing straight through the earth’s core and out the other side. The bouquet in my hands suddenly feels like it weighs a million pounds, each flower a separate accusation. Where is he? How is he not here? Did the universe really just play the cruelest bait-and-switch in wedding history?

This isn’t happening. Tell me this isn’t happening. Someone’s filming a reality show, right? ‘Surprise the Bride with Soul-Crushing Disappointment?’

Fuuuuuuuuuuuck.

I keep walking because what else can I do? Seventy-eight pairs of eyes are watching me process this nightmare in real-time.

My father hands me off at a kiss-less, groom-less altar with a confused glance. I take my place, the afternoon sunlight streaming through the stained glass suddenly too bright, too mocking. The colors dance across the white aisle runner beneath my feet. Red. Blue. Gold. Beautiful and utterly meaningless.

I look at his best friend James, and the pit in my stomach expands into a black hole. I lean toward him.

“Where’s Rylan?” I whisper, my voice suddenly very small.

James shakes his head. “Tatiana, I— I’m sorry.”

The whispers start then, rippling through the congregation like wind through tall grass. I feel my cheeks burning.

“He’s not coming...” The words escape before I can stop them.

James looks like he’d rather be literally anywhere else. “I’m so sorry. He called me twenty minutes ago. He said... he said he couldn’t go through with it.”

I laugh. I actually laugh.

And the tears start.

This isn’t happening. This is a nightmare. My life has become a terrible romcom where I’m the pathetic side character who gets dumped so the actual protagonist can find true love.

I quickly wipe my eyes. No. I’m stronger than that. Yes, my perfectly planned wedding is imploding in real time, with seventy-eight witnesses and a string quartet providing the soundtrack. But I’ll take it standing up. Like I’ve taken everything in my life. I’ll cry over ten buckets of chocolate ice cream later.

“Did he say why?” My voice is eerily calm. Professional Tatiana has taken over, the version of me that handles crises for a living.

James shakes his head. “Just that he was sorry and he’d call you later.”

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