Page 34 of Marrying My Moth Lady

“Are you sure, baby girl?” Eli yells from the front row. He stands up and approaches the altar, smoothing his hair into place. I swear he stands at an angle to be on camera for the scandal. “I’m not convinced my little girl wants to marry this man. I haven’t heard an ‘I do’. In fact, he removed the exchanging of vows from the ceremony yesterday to silence her!”

“Mr. Carter, she signed the marriage certificate, and the thumbprints match the license. If it’s good enough for the state government, it should be good enough for you,” Horus says in a terse voice that hints at the thunder he’s about to unleash.

“Well, girl, will you say, ‘I do’ to appease your father?” The officiant seems more exasperated than protective. If my voice was similar to Amber’s, I’d speak up. Would it be worse to talk through my nose to try to sound like her or be myself?

“She doesn’t have to do anything, she hasn’t already agreed to,” Horus says with increasing volume. His belly growls as ferocious as his voice.

I must fight the urge to hum for him. Everyone is focused on me, but I want nothing more than to soothe him. Dang rich people and their schemes! The audience’s stare burns holes in my confidence. I tremble from antennae to toes. If only I could grab Horus and fly away.

“I’m over here, Daddy,” Amber says, from the other end of the aisle. She cradles a helmet under one arm and Rash’s hand with the other. “Let Millie marry Horus. She does love him, but is too shy for the cameras…the cameras you insisted be here.”

“Shy? Millie who? What’s the meaning of this?” Mr. Carter thunders. He takes an aggressive step toward me, but Matthew crawls between us. With his lens pointed at me, he crouches like an immovable boulder.

“This is my fault,” Amber starts with real tears streaming down her face. “I’ve lied to you. I never loved Horus…only how much you loved him.”

“Princess, you are the love of my life,” Mr. Carter says, raising his arms to the heavens.

“No,” she says, gesturing to the crowd. “You love all this more. What I want will stand in your way. This is Oscar…Oscar Briscoe… He’s the father of my baby, and as of this morning, my husband. Millie and Horus were our witnesses. We were theirs. I love this man, so you must let them finish their ceremony, Daddy.”

Do I feel bereft because I wasn’t an active participant in the ceremony? No energetic shift or river of feelings flow into my heart. I’m Millie Mills—or Horus’s square—but I’m still me. Wasit because I didn’t say ‘I do’, but rather indicated my choice via electronic thumbprint?

“You may kiss the bride,” the officiant says to conclude the ceremony. He slams his Bible closed and checks his watch. Does he have a tee time or is he calculating how fast he can cash the check from Mr. Carter?

“I’m sorry, what? That’s not what’s in your instructions,” Horus whisper-yells like a demon.

“Oh Amber, you could have told me!” Mr. Carter trips over Matthew in his haste to run to his daughter.

He shakes hands with Rash…err…Oscar. If I were named after a hotdog, I might adopt my club name too. The two men hug Amber. Cameras record every millisecond, and their flashes light up the darkening sky. Who knows what this will do to Mr. Carter’s political dreams, but I’m grateful to Amber for her intervention. Maybe she isn’t as heartless as she’s portrayed.

“Where’s that kiss? I haven’t got all day,” sneers the officiant. I’d love to stomp on his big toe with my heel right now!

“Oh hell,” Horus says, burrowing into my layers. He pushes two toward the officiant and the rest toward the crowd. When our lips meet, my mouth opens in shock. How can we escape this if my veil is askew? I’m stiff as a board with my arms at my sides as he plunders my mouth. The crowd whoops and hollers as if at a sporting event, not a wedding. Horus’s hands are busy, not copping a feel, but winding my veil around my head and shoulders.

“One for the cameras,” the officiant says with an evil laugh. He yanks the veil from my head.

Gasps fill the garden before we drown in stunned silence.

As the flower crown slides to the back of my head, my antennae pop up. My wings shiver at the exposure to the cool evening air. Fear crawls up my throat. My eyes water, but it’s too late. There are twin red halos on Horus’s blazer. My knees lock. I freeze with terror. My gaze rises to my husband in a silent plea to save me.

“Can you blame a guy for dressing his bride as a moth when wedding her in a butterfly garden to urge you to support the community’s conservation efforts? In lieu of gifts, please leave donations at the bar in the reception tent,” Horus says with a nervous laugh. His shrug is met with a crowd of scowls and frowns.

The first camera flash in our direction sends my brother into a fit of rage. He lunges for the reporter. The two men bowl over four chairs on their way to the ground. Glass sprays over the ground as he smashes both their cameras.

So much for wedding pictures…

“Shows over,” Horus shouts, lifting me bridal style. I didn’t think he had the strength to carry me. “Reception is in the tent. Drinks on Eli. Nothing to see here but a poorly planned publicity stunt. The next camera flash will earn the user an ass-whooping! I mean it. Don’t let the door hit you where the good lord split you!”

An older version of my husband steps in front of us, shoving reporters out of the way. By his side is a grey-haired woman with Horus’s blue eyes, swatting them with a pearled handbag. They allow us to pass before acting as a last line of defense against the reporters. Not risking a trap inside a building, Horus skirts around the side where we left Matthew’s truck. My brother sprints twenty feet behind us. What should bethe best day of my life has become a disaster…and I couldn’t be happier.

In Horus’s arms with our families aiding our escape, I’ve never been surrounded by so much love. My picture will be in the paper, maybe even on the news. My clever husband made up an explanation instead of hiding me. He’s not ashamed of my moth traits. I hug him a little tighter. For one day, I was part of the community.

“Lie low,” Horus says, setting me into Matthew’s truck with the caution of a glassmaker. “I’ll get rid of these vermin—even if it means making a statement on the news. Everything will blow over, I promise.”

“No,” I say between his kisses. “Come with us. Don’t leave me. Why can’t Matthew stay behind to deal with them? Please.”

I’m not above begging. This is my wedding night. I want my husband by my side. He never detailed our plans after the wedding, so I don’t know if this is goodbye. He doesn’t know I love him. He’s not a name on a piece of paper to me. I’d trade the security of the forest for one more night of magic with him.

“They won’t listen to Matthew. The danger is behind you. You can return to your life. The one to face them has to be me,” Horus says, running his fingers down my cheek. His fingertips glistened with my tears. He rubs them on my wedding rings. “Don’t cry, beautiful. It breaks my heart when you cry. You’re Mills Mills—a square now. No one can put you in a box when you are the box, yeah?”

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