We arrive at the church which has a lovely olde–worlde feel, sandstone with a large circular driveway, sweeping oak trees and lots of leadlight windows. There are roses everywhere and the crowd is congregated out the front. Eventually we are led in and my grandmother catches my hand as we walk into the church.
“It’ll be your wedding next,” she winks. I smile and roll my eyes. We are ushered to our place in the second row. Gran looks down and exclaims, “My god darling, how on earth do you walk in those shoes?” I smile and lift my hem a little to give her a full view of my beautiful expensive shoes that I may marry because I love them so much. I step aside to let Gran into the row of seats before me and glance up straight into the ice–cold stare of Joshua Stanton. The sight hits me like a physical blow and I involuntarily step back and grab the church pew for support…Dear Mother of God…he is breathtaking…so different yet so familiar. He is glaring at me… Holy shit, is he angry? Surely not. I swallow and shuffle up the church pew. He follows me with his eyes and I can’t look away. My heart has stopped beating. He is mad, or maybe he’s just shocked to see me. My mouth is so dry I can hardly swallow. I look down, suddenly super self–conscious. I think I’m having a hot flush. Oh shit, did I bring deodorant? I’m going to need it. I pat my forehead.
Bridget frowns at me, “Are you ok?” I nod, unable to speak. I look to the floor to try to calm myself and my heart that is having an epileptic fit. I can’t help it, I look back up. He is still glaring at me. Holy fuck, is anyone else seeing this? I pat my forehead again and down–cast my eyes. Crap, crap, crap, crap. What did you expect, you idiot? Of course he hates you. I’m getting seriously claustrophobic. I need fresh air. I want to run from this church and do some serious binge drinking. I blow out a large breath.
“What’s up?” Bridget whispers.
“Hot flush,” I murmur.
She screws her face up in question. “What?” she mouths as she frowns at me. I shake my head to try and signal for her to shut the fuck up, he’s watching. I look up again and see a trace of a smile on his face. Bastard, he’s doing this on purpose. He knows he’s affecting me. Christ, why am I such a loser? Gran distracts me and takes my hand, thank heavens for Gran. I give her a weak smile as she pats the back of my hand. The service begins and I am of course totally distracted. I am not even looking at the bride and groom. My eyes are fixed on one person only. Every now and then he looks at me and our eyes meet, but he pulls away every time. He’s absolutely beautiful—it hurts just to look at him. The priest signals it’s time for me to do a reading. Shit, what if I can’t talk? I shimmy out and head towards the steps when Joshua comes over and offers me his hand, and as I grab it he squeezes it hard. Once again I am reminded by a strong jolt of sexual energy that he zaps me with. I gasp and look up to see him smile a small satisfied smile. Shit ok, he’s affecting me. Its official, I don’t have one cool bone in my body. I may as well be an open book. Please ground, swallow me up now. Why in the hell am I so physically affected by this man? It’s abnormal. I blow out a breath and start my psalm reading with goose bumps scattering all over my body.
I hope my nipples aren’t on high beam in the house of god. I am achingly aware of his carnal searing gaze fixed upon me. As I read I see through my peripheral vision that he looks me up and down three times that I count. He clenches his jaw and moves his head to the left side as if trying to crack his neck whilst not taking his eyes off me. I can’t help but let a small smile slip. I know this move, he’s always done it, and it appears he hasn’t broken the habit. He does this when he is aroused. When we were together he would do this when he saw me naked or in a swimming costume. My insides do a little jump for joy as it becomes clear to me I still do it for him. Thank god, operation slim down has paid off, and all those gym visits are having the desired effect. I feel a little of my confidence return. I finish my reading and go to return to my seat and he holds out his hand to help me down the stairs, he squeezes it again and I feel the heat emanate from his body. I smile at him but he doesn’t smile back. What in the world is going on here?
As I make it back to my seat the bride and groom and party move over to the side to sign the marriage certificate, Bridget frowns at me.
“What?” I whisper.
She leans in and looks around to make sure no one else is listening. “Why was he looking at you like that?”
“Like what?” I whisper.
“Like he was going to bend you over the church pew.” I open my eyes wide at her to signify shut the hell up.
“Well?” she asks again.
“Don’t be stupid,” I snap as I rearrange my dress.
“I mean it,” she says. “And you, you were all flustered.”
“I was nervous, that’s all.”
“Bullshit,” she whispers. “I can smell his pheromones from here.”
I can’t help it—I smile.
“What’s funny?” she whispers. For some strange reason I want to laugh. It feels good talking about this to Bridge, even though I have to deny it.