Page 24 of Wildest Forever

“Thank you,” I manage to croak just as the officiator begins speaking.

“Dearly beloved, we're gathered here today to witness the marriage between Pacey Jorge Rivera and Morgan Palma Wheeler...” and the rest I block out until those famous words leave his mouth.

“You may now kiss the bride,” and I freeze, my eyes widening slightly and Pacey senses it in an instant.

He leans in and kisses me softly on the cheek before his fingers lace with mine as we turn and face forward. Dusty is clapping and whistling through his teeth, but the Rivera lot? All faces like thunder, except from Orla.

She is smiling, her cheeks damp from tears but I am unsure whether they're happy or sad or maybe a mix of both.

Sucking in a deep breath, I squeeze Pacey's hand as he leads me back down the aisle and into the converted barn where tables are set out back under the rotten wooded frame, fairy lights wrapped around with the matching foliage and flowers entwined down the middle. He stops just as we break through the back and turns to look at me, his hand cupping my face, so I have no other choice but to face him.

“You okay?” he asks, the cool metal of his gold wedding band on my flushed cheek.

“I think so,” I whisper, because if I speak too loud he will hear the crack in my voice, he will hear that I am lying and that's not the best way to start a marriage.

“We've got this, a few more hours to get through and life will go back to how we know it.”

I let out a soft laugh as I look out across our land, the dusting of stars twinkling between the mountains.

“I don't think life will ever return to how we knew it.”

The evening soon settles in,the air is warm and sweet, the fireflies are hovering and blend with the fairy lights and light chatter floats over the rustic wooden table.

“Do you think your family are angry?” I find myself asking as I sip on the glass of champagne.

He looks at me then casts his eyes down to where his family sit.

“No,” his answer is short and to the point.

“They didn't look happy when we walked down the aisle,” and a soft chuckle vibrates as he shuffles and leans back against the chair, his arm hanging over the back of my chair, his fingertips brushing over the bare skin of my shoulder.

“Would you be happy if your child was in this situation?” he swings his head to look at me, a strand of his hair hanging downonto his forehead and I find myself focusing on that and wanting to push it away from his eyes.

“I wouldn't be in this situation because I don't want children,” my voice flat as the truths seep from me.

“No?” he looks at me, brows furrowed before he smooths them out.

“No,” I glance down at the table and see my pops in conversation with Riggs.

“Is that a hard, no?” Pacey asks me and piques my interest. Turning my head to look at him, my eyes bounce between his whiskey ambers.

“Yes, why?” there is an air of sarcasm attached to my tongue when I answer him.

“I want kids,” he shrugs his shoulders up and I just stare at him.

“Off to a good start then,” I roll my eyes, shaking my head as I reach for my champagne flute and drain it.

“Seems that way,” his fingers stop trailing over my skin and before I can even respond he pushes from the table and sulks over to where his mom sits. He lowers himself in the chair, elbows on the table as he begins talking quietly and I am desperate to know what he is saying.

He must think that this will last, but I don't think we will be in it for the long run. I think it'll run its course and we'll both walk away when we know the ranch is safe.

I'm not alone long when a pretty honey blonde haired girl sits next to me, her hair short and wavy, hazel eyes dancing with mine and she wears a pretty dusty pink chiffon dress and cowgirl boots.

“Hi,” she says sweetly, “I’m Aspen.”

“Aspen,” I repeat her name as if testing it out on my tongue.

“I'm married to Riggs,” she nods at the tall, burly guy at the head of the table, thick beard, broad shoulders and his eyes dance with hers.

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