Page 1 of Accidental Groom
Prologue
Elena
Each step down the aisle sounds like a gunshot in the cathedral silence.
There’s no music, no swarm of bridesmaids or groomsmen grinning across the room from the steps of the pulpit.
Just whispers.
Around me like shards of glass, sharp and cutting and impossible to ignore.
Where is he?
The walkway’s adorned with white roses spilling from tall silver urns lining the end of each pew, candles burning along the edges of the room beneath the stained glass.
Every detailright.
Except for the empty space where George Highcourt should be standing.
There’s no slicked-back sandy hair. No perfectly tailored suit hugging his six-foot frame. No bored, blue eyes flicking toward his phone when he thinks I’m not paying attention.
My fiancé since I was sixteen.
Arranged as a goddamn transaction.
He should be standing at the end of the aisle.
But there’s no one.
My fingers dig into my father’s arm until I can feel the bone straining beneath.
He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t evenlookat me.
Instead, he stares ahead, as if he can conjure the Highcourt heir through sheer force of business necessity.
Because that’s all this is — a contract dressed up in lace and champagne and strangers here to congratulate me, or more accurately, whisper about me.
The stems of my bouquet go sticky in my palm from my death grip.
The dress, ivory silk with a fitted bodice that cinches my waist in before flaring out, felt perfect in the boutique. Now it’s just a beautiful, suffocating cage that squeezes my ribs until my breath comes shallow, accentuating every curve I’d rather not show.
I should’ve picked something looser.
I should’ve known.
Breathe, Elena. Just breathe. Maybe he’s blowing his nose, or?—
More whispers.
“Where is he?”
“Heard outside that he didn’t show up.”
“Well… can you blame him?”
The last one hits like a dagger between my shoulder blades, punching the minimal amount of air in my lungs out of me.
Sixteen-year-old me didn’t love George.
