Page 64 of Exposing Adonis

The priest said some stuff about marriage, and not coming into things wantonly, and making vows under a clear head. Things that I was violating by standing there. I was numb. Stunned. Like I wasn’t here at all. The scent of Callum was still on my skin. How was that for wantonness?

Callum said his vows so easily, his hand holding mine, staring at me the entire time.

But when the priest got to me, I trembled. My knees almost gave way, but Callum’s hand went around my waist, keeping me upright.

“Do you, Lea Bonifacio take Callum MacLachlan to be your lawfully wedded husband …” and he went on. I didn’t even know when he stopped talking.

Husband. Marriage. Wedding. Sickness and death.

I blinked and all eyes were on me, waiting. The priest looked worried, his brow knitted.

Callum leaned in and whispered, “Say ‘I do’, love.” I wanted to melt into him. “It’s just a joke, right?”

That’s right. It was all just a big game of chicken. He was seeing how far he could push me. Right?

I looked at his multi-colored hazel-green eyes and gasped. He nodded, encouragingly, and I heard myself say, “I do.”

And I meant it. Maybe that was the most frightening thing of all.

Then he put the obnoxious, large eternity band on my finger. I felt like one of those Upper East Side rich wives, covered in statement jewelry. I had no idea how these weren’t going to fall apart, because I was going to knock them around all the time. Holy fuck, I hope they’re insured.

Then he placed a gold band in my hand.

I slipped it on his finger, and he closed his palms over mine, like it was in prayer. He kissed my fingertips before leaning down to kiss me.

“I now pronounce you man and wife,” the priest said, his hands apart over us in a blessing.

Then there was silence. It was done. Without ceremony or flare, it was done.

My brother stood up from his wheelchair and ambled over, reaching out to undo the pins that tied the veil, and me, to Callum.

“Wait,” Callum said, fishing in his pocket until he found his phone. “I want pictures.” He turned his eyes to me. “If you don’t mind.”

I shook my head. “I don’t mind.”

He handed his phone to Geordie who walked around us, taking photos of us in the veil, our hands clasped, rings facing up. Callum kissed my temple, and Geordie photographed that. Then he took his finger under my chin, tilted my head up and kissed me. I heard the snapping of the camera and shut my eyes.

“Smile once, for me,” Callum said, turning my chin towards Geordie who held the phone up. I smiled, our hands still between us. Callum raised my left hand with the rings stacked together and kissed my knuckles. All the while, Geordie snapped away.

We removed the veil, and the cord, and we folded them together. I clutched them to my chest like a baby. The guys came, and patted Callum’s back.

“Lady Strathlachlan,” Geordie said, bowing over my hand before kissing it.

The words stunned me.

“I didn’t …” I blinked up at Callum, who raised a brow. “I hadn’t thought about changing my name.”

Callum winked. “You can keep your name as you wish. But the title will remain Lady Strathlachlan which, at least in our circles, will be how you are styled.”

“Styled?”

“How you’re referred to.”

“But … I’m American, we don’t do titles.” I remembered this from a High School civics class. We the people of America refuse to recognize the titles of our former colonizers.

“America may not recognize these titles. But we do.” Callum smirked at me, and he and Geordie exchanged a look that I couldn’t read.

“Why won’t people call me Baroness MacLachlan?” I remembered someone telling me that Pippa was a Baronet, which was below a Baroness, but she was always called Lady Pippa Fox. I found it all very confusing.

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