Through the fear, he gives me a one-sided smile, and deep down I know everything is going to be okay.
“Yes, I will marry you.” There’s no waver in my voice, no pitched inflection, just relief and determination.
Gasps come from the guests, and from behind him my father stands, pure rage rolling off his body.
“What? No! You’re marrying me! That’s why we’re all here!” Patrick bellows, grabbing my arm.
My gaze snaps back to him, and his grip on my arm tightens to the point of pain. Wincing, I stumble in his direction as he yanks me out of the stranger’s grasp and toward him. His groomsmen step up behind him, glaring at me, and that’s when I realize Nate and Beau have stepped up behind my stranger.
Nate and Beau?
Alarm bells start sounding in my head, telling me I should know who this is, but with all the commotion going on around me, I can’t think, and therefore I don’t.
“Let me go!” I yell at Patrick, my voice echoing around the church.
“No,” he roars. “I wouldn’t do this if I were you.”
The fear and wariness so present a few minutes ago are now completely gone, and anger has taken their place. Anger is an emotion I can relate to; it’s been lying dormant, just waiting for this moment for the last five years, and it won’t be silent now.
“And why not? Now you’re free to go be with your mistress in public. Oh, Brittany darling”—I turn to glare at my cousin, contempt dripping from my words—“bless your heart, he’s all yours.”
More gasps from the audience as Brittany steps closer to me, both embarrassment and hope written across her face. She’s so stupid to think this is going to end with her and Patrick walking off into the sunset.
“Stop this, Camille.” He shakes me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you will be marrying me today!” His fingers dig into my flesh and the pain shoots up my arm.
“No, I will not.” I try to pull free, but he just squeezes harder, and my eyes blur with tears.
Having heard and seen enough, my mysterious library guy steps up to the altar. His eyes are locked onto where Patrick is grabbing me, and his hands are clenched into fists.
“You will take your hand off her immediately, or I’ll remove it for you by breaking every bone in it.” His voice is so low and deep only those right around us can hear him, but the threat is clearly legitimate. Patrick’s nostrils flare and he reluctantly releases me, one finger at a time. The new guy wraps his hands around my waist and pulls me into the hard wall of his chest, putting distance between Patrick and me.
Commotion is increasing. More people are standing, and things very quickly start getting out of hand. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dale, Patrick’s best man, step around, charge forward, and pull back his fist. Jerking left toward the minister, my mystery guy twists us just as the punch flies by. Because Brittany has moved in a little closer, when Dale loses his balance on the altar steps due to the sudden change in everyone’s position, his fist crashes into her face. The impact and her scream are near deafening, and blood immediately begins pouring from her nose and mouth.
The entire audience is now on their feet as Brittany hits the floor, silence once again enveloping the church. Patrick falls to his knees and in this moment, everyone now knows what I discovered last night: she’s his side piece.
As the murmurs and conversations slowly start up again, Grandfather walks up to the altar and hands Patrick his handkerchief for Brittany. “I think it’s best if you all left now.” This isn’t a suggestion; it’s clearly an order.
“But . . .” Patrick scrambles, hopping up to his feet and looking for my father, who’s standing at the end of his pew, shaking his head, his face beet red, while my mother wrings her hands next to him. He’s so angry, but he’ll never add to the scene; I know he’s going to try to distance himself from it as much as possible. There are too many influential people in this room, and if anyone is going to be cast in an unfavorable light, it’s going to be Patrick or me, not him. He crosses his arms over his chest and glares at Patrick disapprovingly. Part of me wonders if it’s because he was screwing around with someone else behind my back, or if it’s because he got caught and their master plan has now been disrupted.
Security steps up behind my grandfather. They’ve been called in from the outside, and now they’re looming in the middle of the aisle.
The volume of our guests lowers as Grandfather turns and raises his hand to silence them. Whimpering from Brittany can be heard across the room as she’s still crouched on the floor.
“So, it seems we’ve had a slight change in plans today. We appreciate your patience as we settle on a few minor details for today’s festivities.” He smiles and light chuckling rises up, instantly lifting the heaviness of the room. “We will begin again in fifteen minutes, so hang tight. If there is anyone who wishes to leave, now would be the time. Thank you for coming.” He nods toward the groom’s side of the church then turns back to Patrick and his groomsmen.
Patrick’s immediate family gathers up their things and quietly exits out the back of the church. The door clicks behind them and all eyes swing toward the front to see what happens next.
“Patrick, it’s time to go,” my grandfather says firmly.
“N-No,” he stutters, slightly panicked and confused. He looks around the room, then at the guy standing behind me, and then at me. Every emotion flees as his desperate eyes bore into mine. My heart aches for what this is doing to him—after all, we were friends once upon a time—but I can’t really feel for the person he’s become over the last couple of years, and deep down I know he’s only going to get worse, not better.
“This isn’t over,” he spits out then turns to walk away. Dale lifts Brittany off the floor, and as he and the groomsmen follow, each one scowls and issues us a glare that says revenge is coming. With every step they take, I relax and sink back deeper into the arms of a man who’s a complete stranger and now my hero.
Bending down, he rests his mouth next to my ear and whispers, “It’s going to be okay. I’ve got you.”
I nod in agreement, but am unexpectedly more caught up in the sensation of his warm breath floating across my neck than I am in what’s going on around us. A shiver runs through me and his arms tighten. I like being close to him, and as Grandfather reaches for my hand, I’m reluctant to move away.
“Darling, head to the back of the church and wait for me there. Don’t go into the foyer.” He shakes his head and I understand his concern that Patrick might still be there. All of my bridesmaids except for Ali move to the front pew, and on the groom’s side, Nate steps up to stand in for the best man. Recognition flickers in the periphery of my brain, but all thoughts stop as I see Grandfather pinning his boutonniere onto the guy I’ve agreed to marry. Not looking at my father or any other guests, I numbly make my way to the back of the church and remind myself to breathe.
A short time passes before my grandfather joins me, and again the string quartet begins to play. In a matter of fifteen minutes, I feel completely different about what I’m about to do, and I wonder if I look different, too. As we make our way down the aisle, I know without a doubt I could have walked by myself, but the smile on his face is priceless. He whispers that he’s proud of me, and although this moment is fleeting, I’d do it all over again just to hear those words from him.
Green eyes smile at me appreciatively as I approach, and more than once I watch his gaze fall over the length of me. He likes what he sees, and so do I. He’s incredibly handsome, tall, and strong, and based on the way he carries himself, fearless. I can’t help but wonder where he came from, who he is—not that it matters. I’m so thankful for this man in front of me, and it’s quite possible I would follow him just about anywhere.
When we reach the end of the aisle, Grandfather lifts my veil, gives me a small kiss, and tucks my hand into the warmth of my new groom’s. “Well done, son.” He pats him on the shoulder and leaves the two of us staring at e
ach other. I refuse to look anywhere else, not that I’m sure I could.
This is crazy—absolutely crazy.
Nervous butterflies take flight, but I don’t care. His eyes are bright and excited, and I’m certain mine mirror them.
Lacing our fingers together, we simultaneously take a deep breath, turn, and walk up the steps toward the minister, who smiles warily at us but winks at me. I get the feeling everyone knew I shouldn’t be marrying Patrick except for Patrick, my father, and me.
No, that’s not true—I knew, too.
He leans over and quietly asks, “Sir, what’s your name?”
“Reid Harrison Jackson.”
A jolt hits my body at the recognition of the name, and all other sounds are drowned out as understanding settles in and roars through my ears.
I glance past him at Nate. Our eyes lock and hold as his narrow and his lips press into a thin line. His brother, who lives in Tampa . . . his brother, who he said was coming as his plus one . . . his brother, who he backed as Patrick bore down on him. His brother. Shock must register across my face because Reid’s grasp on my hand tenses, his fingers tightening around mine.
Leaning forward, he asks me if everything is okay.
Shifting my gaze from Nate to him, I whisper, “Yes,” shaking off the confusion and again feeling spellbound by the depth of his green eyes as they capture mine.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have gathered here today to join this woman, Camille Odette Whitley, and this man, Reid Harrison Jackson, in holy matrimony. If there is anyone here who objects, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
The church is so silent you can hear the cicadas outside in the trees. This time no one answers, and as the minister continues, I let out a sigh of relief.
The ceremony proceeds, but every word is lost on me. I’m going through the motions, but I can’t focus on anything other than the man across from me—his striking eyes, the way his fingers are constantly moving against mine, how delicious he smells, and that he’s doing this for me. I know this wedding isn’t real, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel completely surreal and I wasn’t living in the moment. It feels like what I would imagine a wedding to a soul mate would feel like—magical.
“Do you have the rings?” the minister asks. I shoot Reid a look of panic just as Grandfather, who has already risen, walks over and hands Nate two wedding bands. As Nate passes them to the minister, I glance at them and see they’re his and my grandmother’s. A small gasp slips past my lips—why does he have hers? I look over, and he just winks and nods.
Repeating the offered vows, Reid and I slip the rings onto each other. Reid pauses as he looks at the one circling his finger, squeezes his hand into a ball, and then raises his eyes to collide with mine as the minister says, “You may now kiss the bride.”
Kiss the bride!
Stepping closer to me, one side of Reid’s mouth tips up in a smile. I know this because I have to tear my eyes away from his lips to catch his eyes, those beautiful green eyes that make me feel giddy, safe, and excited for the first time in a long time. Gently, he lifts my veil, and instead of flipping it back over my head, he slips under it to be close to me. What had acted as a filter is now gone, and everything about him is vivid, sharp, and—just for today—mine.
Taking my face in both his hands, he lowers his lips to brush them against the corner of mine then pulls away, but only by the most miniscule distance. Memories of last night’s kiss flutter through my mind. Wonder is immediate, and heat races through me. Wanting to be closer, I grab the lapels of his jacket and inch up on my toes. Feeling me shift, he moves one hand to my lower back and gently pulls me flush against him. His lips connect with mine again and slowly, deeply move in a way that lets me know, up until this moment, I have never really been kissed. This is a fairytale kiss to complete my fairytale dream wedding. Every part of me tingles, and although this kiss is simple and crowd appropriate, in an instant I lose myself to his hands, his mouth, his taste. This isn’t something put on as an act just to keep up the pretenses; this kiss is real, and he feels it, too.
Applause erupts from the guests, reminding us where we are, and the moment is over.
Reid takes a small step back but continues holding me tight.
“Wow,” I mumble, and I’m rewarded with half-lidded eyes and a smile that’s just for me.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. and Mrs. Jackson!”
Reid pulls the veil off us, flips it behind my head, and pats it down. He turns us to face the audience and we both smile as, hand in hand, we walk down the steps, up the aisle, past the rows and rows of people, and into an empty foyer.
“I can’t believe we just did that,” I whisper, his gaze shooting down to me as the church bells begin ringing and the front doors of the church are thrown open wide by people outside.
I pull on Reid’s hand and we duck into a small coat closet. I need a few minutes to myself, and I’m certain he does too.
“Are you okay?” he asks, running one hand down my arm and turning the light on with the other.
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” I peruse his face to see if there’s any hesitation or regret, but I find none, just concern—concern for me, someone he doesn’t even know.
His lips twitch like he wants to smile, and all of this is so overwhelming I think neither of us knows how to act or what to do.
“Why did you do this?”
Instead of answering, he shrugs his shoulders and runs his thumb along the edge of my jaw. I’m in awe of this man . . . complete awe.
Tilting my head so it falls into his hand, I step closer to him and rest my forehead on his chest, just like last night. How crazy it is that all this started not even twenty-four hours ago.
What if he hadn’t been in the library? No, I can’t think like that. I can’t think about the what-ifs; I can only think about how grateful I am.
Reid wraps his arms around me, and this is how we’re found when it’s time to go.
Stepping outside, the sun is so bright Reid and I have to squint to see what is going on around us, and I find Clare. She’s standing next to Ali, and there are tears of happiness shining in her eyes. She blows me a kiss just as Grandfather guides us farther forward and shakes Reid’s hand.
“Congratulations, son. I know the two of you will be very happy together.” He smiles brightly then leans over to kiss me on the cheek. “I’m very proud of you. Things always have a way of working out for the best—never forget that.”
I nod, not sure what to say. People have started to gather around, so neither Reid nor I say anything, just stare at him and then at each other.
“Why don’t the two of you head back to your house, change your clothes, and spend a little time together before the reception this evening.” He ushers us down the church steps and into the parking lot.
I turn to face him. “But, Grandfather—”
“No buts. You two will see tonight through,” he whispers, “and then we’ll talk about what’s next.” He pauses and pats my cheek. “Smile, it’s your wedding day.”
A 1960s Rolls Royce Silver Cloud pulls up, and Reid, who’s still holding my hand, guides me over, then we climb in the back.
As the car pulls away, people cheer and wave behind us. The cool, slightly pungent southern air hits my face, and my free hand reaches for my veil to keep it from flying away. My mind is racing; it won’t slow down, and for the next ten minutes until we pull up in front of my house, neither one of us speaks.
ADRENALINE IS A funny thing. One moment you feel on top of the world, and the next you want to be buried within it.
As we pulled away from the church, I glanced over to find Nate standing on the top steps with his hands shoved in his pockets. He wasn’t smiling or frowning; if anything, his expression was unreadable, and that feels even worse than him showing disappointment.
Did I disappoint him?
Part of me feels guilty, because if he did have any type of affection for this girl,
I broke the number one rule between brothers. But, at the same time, if he cared for her in any sort of romantic way, he should have been the one to step up and stop that wedding. He’s her friend. He should have seen the signs, should have known how she truly felt about that guy, and he should have done something.
Then again, between the two of us, I’m always the one to do something. It’s just who I am, and I know that. I’m incredibly protective of those close to me. I can be impulsive and assertive, and I can’t stand to see people bulldozing those who appear weaker than them—not that I think Camille is weak, though I don’t actually know anything about her, and she was going to marry that guy. Just thinking of him has frustration and tension running across my shoulders and up my neck.
Minutes pass. Neither of us acknowledges the other, each lost in our own thoughts as the car comes to a stop in front of a colonial brick house covered in ivy, just off of Johnson Square in the historic district. The home sits on a corner lot on a tree-lined road, and we’re the only car occupied as it idles. The driver gets out and walks around to stand next to my door but doesn’t open it.
“What are we doing here?” I ask, looking around as people walk by. I thought we were headed back to the Whitley mansion; that’s what I get for not paying attention.
“This is my house—this is where I live.” There’s pride in her words, but her voice fades off, almost like she’s hesitant, shy.
My head whips toward her. “What do you mean? I thought you lived in New York.”
“Well, I did.” She looks past me and out the window at the house. “After Patrick and I got engaged, he and my father thought it would be best if I moved back. Although I loved living there, I guess I kind of agreed. If I was going to be his wife, I should be where he is. I belonged here.” Her eyes find mine again and I can see she’s nervous. Is she nervous about the misunderstanding, or nervous because she mentioned Patrick? I’m not sure, but I hate that she is, and I can’t help but grit my teeth as my mind sticks on his name and an indeterminate feeling courses through me.
Chasing Clouds Page 4