Page 107 of Inked Desires
A sigh escapes me.
I try to focus on my reflection. On the perfectly tailored suit, chosen by Ares himself. I don’t know where he found it or how long he’d planned this, but it fits me perfectly. Black, simple, elegant, with a fitted vest that almost makes me look confident.
Almost.
I tug at the collar of my shirt, a bit too tight for my taste. I feel like I’m suffocating.
“Damn it…”
I give up for a moment and run a nervous hand through my hair.
My waves fall messily over my forehead. I grab a brush and try to tame them, but they have a mind of their own. An irritated sigh shakes me. Ares likes my hair like this, messy. Me? I’m not so sure. Maybe I should just leave it.
I put the brush down and stare at myself in the mirror.
It’s strange.
A few years ago, I never would have imagined getting here. Me, in a suit, getting ready to get married. To him.
To someone who truly loves me.
A shiver runs through me.
I straighten up and take a deep breath.
The Maple Creek sun greets me as I step out of my hotel room. Light filters through the leaves of tall trees lining the street, casting shifting shadows on the cobblestone ground. The air is mild, lightly scented with pine and the earth still damp from morning dew.
The church is right across, small and unassuming, with stone walls covered in ivy and a bell tower standing proudly against the blue sky. It’s a simple place, but beautiful. Intimate. Like us.
My heart pounds a little too hard in my chest.
In a few moments, Ares will be there, waiting for me at the end of the aisle.
I stand before the church doors.
No one is outside. All the guests must already be seated inside, waiting for my arrival.
My gaze drifts momentarily to the cobblestones beneath my feet, then slowly climbs back to the imposing carved wooden door. My heart races faster. Not just from excitement. There’s a shadow of doubt, creeping into my thoughts at the worst possible time.
I’ve been married before.
A shiver runs through me.
Jace.
His name lodges itself in my mind like a parasite, dragging me back years. My first marriage was a prison, an illusion of choice when I had no control over my own life. Saying“I do” had been my downfall, and for a long time, I told myself love was just a trap. A lie woven with invisible chains.
And now… here I am, standing before a church again.
Is this a good idea?
Did I make the right choice?
And Ares? He’s been married before too. His story with William left marks, scars he doesn’t always show but I catch in some silences.
Are we making a mistake trying this a second time?
I run my hands over my temples, as if to chase away the thoughts, and I laugh softly.
