by Elena Monroe
We weren’t the couple who got married on the beach, while giving birth, or in Paris of all places. We were the casualties of our trauma and none of that screamed a white wedding.
Her hand searched for mine, but she didn’t take her eyes off the altar that was covered in black branches tangled up in forget-me-nots with butterflies creating an arch behind where Khaos will come up with a monologue before pronouncing us husband and wife.
He was good at talking and I was good at blocking out his voice.
Grasping my hand tightly, she whispered behind some tears, “It’s beautiful, Bowen, you did a wonderful job.”
The entirety of our wedding was my idea, and I let Eve think whatever she wanted without correcting her. I didn’t need to justify my marrying her with the bullshit details like butterflies and shades of blue.
She was marrying me, and that needed to be good enough on its own.
Taking my hand back, I coughed away all the feelings wafting off my mom. “When are her parents getting here? She probably wants to see her mom.”
My mom’s eyes looked just as sinister as mine when she turned towards me. “Hopefully she doesn’t come at all, Bowen. She is the tip of that shit iceberg.” Hot on her heels, I followed her inside wanting more answers but not desperate enough to ask for them.
I was missing a lot of the puzzle: Denmark, who her Romeo was, why my mom hates her mom, and why everyone is hell-bent on filtering their feelings, so we are all more comfortable.
My mother had been to my house all of three times—all dropping me off from rehab—so my discomfort was already sky high; adding on more was something I could handle.
“I’m not even going to ask; I have a wedding to dread. I’ll leave you to your own devices.” Walking by every door possible, I twisted them to make sure they were locked, even closets with no secrets in them because if you gave my mom an inch, she would take the damn mile.
I was on the hunt for my bride even though I wasn’t supposed to see her before she came down the aisle, but I needed to reign in every possible risk that could happen tonight.
It was barely five o’clock and risks were being doled out by the dozen; between my friends, my mom, and Eve’s parental figures that were apparently an inside joke. One I wasn’t privy to.
Really, I just needed Eve to behave in a way that didn’t push me over the edge with everyone we know witnessing our nuptials. The horsemen and their catalyst counterparts were the least of my worries after last night’s debauchery.
My head was still pounding with the reminder that I chose to get so wasted the night before my wedding I was practically drowning the parts of Braeden inside me and letting myself be… myself.
Vic started a war and Eve finished it.
This was as sober as she was going to get me and that was only because the nerves were too much to bear on top of being wasted. Adding alcohol to the contents of me was only going to make me act in ways I regretted.
Twisting the handle to Eve’s room, I slowed my movements down, letting it only slip open enough to see through a sliver. I found Eve sitting in front of the mirror in her black chiffon gown joined by a guy I didn’t know standing behind her with his hand slack against her neck.
The dress had a plunging neckline that showed off her small frame and perky ass tits in a way that already had me jealous that other people were going to see this. The sleeves were sheer, allowing me to see her fair, glowing complexion showing through from underneath. And below the fitted waist that accentuated her delicate curves, it was full and long, spilling into a villainous amount of darkness around her legs.
She looked like an angel who didn’t fall from heaven but skipped right down to hell willing to find me.
I held my breath, watching the stranger who matched my height hovering over her. He was sporting neater hair and a suit that was way too extravagant for a wedding. His features were a blank canvas, nothing sitting on the surface, but his eyes were vast, full of lies—I was sure of it.
Bending down to her ear, his fingers trailing further down her neck to her exposed chest, he spoke just loud enough for me to hear, “Did you tell him our little secret? The way I know exactly how you sound, the way your eyes fall shut… the way he’s not your first, princess?”
Secrets seem to be the theme of our wedding.
It made sense why she wouldn’t tell me about Denmark, it was the place where all our firsts died and where she learned to lie better than me.
My fists clenched and my eyes seemed drier since I refused to blink. I wanted to see every slight movement, every syllable hanging in the air, and every sense of calm that covered Eve’s features.
She didn’t care that he was touching her.
She didn’t care that anyone could hear or see at any moment.
She was already acting reckless before the open bar even started serving.
Evey was mine, today made that clear—not to the stranger in my house playing with my toy.
Pulling myself away from the crack in the door, I sought out alcohol. I didn’t even care what kind as long as it dulled down the jealousy rooting itself in my bones.
Eve had a past and so did I, so why did hers hurt me worse than my own?
EVE
Standing in the mirror, I was searching my skin for any marks Elias left behind. He was the kind of evil that solidified wearing black on my wedding day.
I wanted to pretend today was the death of my old self—the one made to be proper and quiet when I was anything but, and the rebirth of the life I always wanted.
My skin was left unblemished by not only his violent hand that had wrapped around my throat, but also by his even more painful words. I didn’t let him see that on the outside, that’s what got him off, the visible sign of his threats working.
I looked perfect in my black chiffon dress with my black stilettos covered in matching crystals. I wore dainty black diamond jewelry to compliment, and my hair cascaded in waves that held onto my veil. Grace stood in the doorway smiling softly like it was a foreign thing when she spoke, “You look beautiful. You ready?”
Helping me with my train, I carefully threaded towards the back door that led out into the large backyard that was transformed from just the sad pool to a full-blown wedding. Even the pool was covered with glass and candles floated under the clear surface.
Looking down at my heels, I stepped slowly trying to remember the pace I taught myself when I got so bored, I would fantasize about this day. Finally looking up, I felt the sight of Bowen hit me straight to the chest, aimed at my heart. His fist was around it, claiming it as his property.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t be mad at him.
I signed my heart and soul over; it was equally my fault.
He stood there in a black, tailored suit with a light gray plaid pattern covering his jacket and pants.
Maybe he was celebrating the death of being cruel.
Maybe this was the same celebration.
I couldn’t help the smile I tried to bite down from turning into a full-blown grin when I noticed all the blue, all the butterflies, and the photos of us from when we were younger flooding the area. There were even juniper tree branches twisting together to make the altar for us—everything was symbolic of our youth.
I was always climbing the damn juniper tree in his yard trying to hop the fence to get to his house unseen even though I was welcomed. I just didn’t want to be their annoying charity case.
Scanning the seats lined up, I noticed the Clave, their parents and counterparts accounted for, and my stepbrother and fake parents all front and center.
Taking my place next to Bowen, I dropped my flowers down to my side, our eyes locked and unwavering, as Khaos dragged my attention to him standing where a priest should be. Giving him a side eye, I waited for him to sit down when he addressed everyone, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to not uphold tradition but to break it…”
I wanted to roll my eyes, but I settled for tuning hi
m out, instead focusing on Bowen’s perfect stormy eyes. I had missed Khaos’s monologue in exchange for daydreaming of Bowen removing the lingerie I had on under my dress and how I would finally be his in the way I wanted to be.
Unmistakably.
Irreversibly.
He’d have all of me.
Bowen took my hand gracefully when he leaned in and pressed his full lips to mine making my eyes close. It wasn’t our first kiss, but it certainly felt like something equally as momentous to kiss as husband and wife in front of everyone we knew.
His tongue traced the seam of my lips as my jaw went slack before he softly touched his tongue to mine. Before pulling away completely, his eyes got cloudy, dark even, like a rainstorm was headed my direction as he whispered, “It’s sweet of you to invite your ex-lover, Evey.”
Just like that, the happiest day of my life refused to be one side of the coin.
You can’t have light without the dark.
The reception was peaceful, but Bowen’s eyes never went back to the cloudy day they normally were. Instead, they stayed watchful and full of malice with questions he didn’t dare ask.
After I took off my veil and reapplied my nude lipstick, I headed back towards Bowen when my mother’s insult cut me down enough to forget I had legs. “Eve. See you’ve filled out the way you always wanted to. Be careful of gaining too much weight, you want to keep him interested, don’t you?”
That’s rich coming from the woman who had curves for days, but as soon as she dated him, she became a crash diet junkie.
“It’s a few pounds, I’m still thin.” I felt my voice wobble, and my confidence shatter under her gaze.
Stepping closer to me, her fingers pinched the skin on the outside of my leg, right below my waist. “A few pounds add up, Eve. It’s bad enough you have juvenile butterflies all over your wedding. I don’t know why you couldn’t just get married in Denmark.”
My facade faded pretty quickly when she insulted the butterflies that meant too much to my childhood with Bowen for her to shit on. Lifting my dress up to the tops of my thighs, I placed my heel on the nearest chair and showed off my newly tattooed thigh.
Her entire face lost all signs of life when she gasped at my leg while I incidentally flashed my blue lace panties to the few guests witnessing this interaction.
Grabbing the back of my arm, she made demands like she could still boss me around. “Wait until your stepfather hears that you let that menace deface your body.”
Deface my body? What did she think he was going to do on our wedding night?
I relaxed as soon as I felt what I knew was his hand against my lower back, and Bowen came into view. “Is there a problem?” He never liked my mother, he hated her for making me cry and blamed her for my bad dreams.
Spitting her words in his face, she was angry in ways I couldn’t comprehend. “How dare you mark my daughter like she’s your property! I knew you were trouble the minute you wouldn’t just give up on her. Always calling and hanging up, always sending those disgusting love letters, always trying to make her feel like we weren’t her family.”
My eyebrows furrowed and looked to him for clarification that never came.
He never gave up on me? How did she know that? Why didn’t I know that?
Reaching for the buns on the table, I bit off a bigger than ladylike piece, feeling like I was going to faint. My world was spinning, and I couldn’t find a focus point before it started.
Bowen’s mouth found my ear when he whispered, “No refunds, Eve.”
Swallowing down the carbs, I felt slightly stronger by his words. He wasn’t going to let her drag me back to Denmark to teach me more lessons to torture the rebellion out of me.
“Well, according to you, she is my property… or did you forget? We were always her family because you were too busy dating half of LA to be a mom. She slept in my arms in my fucking bed for years because hers didn’t feel safe enough.” Bowen lashed out in all his cruel glory, leaving me breathless.
Bowen was the only safety I had.
I looked for tears or any sign of pain in the woman who gave birth to me but there was none to find. She wrapped her shall around her frail body and pointed her finger in Bowen’s face, spewing her words, “Good luck keeping her compliant if Elias couldn’t. Your property is damaged goods, or did she not tell you? Due to her carelessness, you’ll never have an heir to your demonic empire. Why don’t you tell him, Eve? Now is as good a time as any.”
Grace must have been watching in the distance when she stepped next to me with her arms crossed over her growing belly and a look of shock glazed over her face. She stomped all over the parts of Bowen that looked ready to cut my mother to see if her blood had any answers. “I don’t really give a fuck who you are, mother or not. But I do care that you’re being a bitch, so you should really leave if you can’t keep your mouth shut. Don’t let the pregnant belly fool you.”
I felt defended beside Grace and steadied by Bowen’s hand. I wanted to believe the torture was over, but my mother was a cockroach—they never die.
My mother knew when to put up a fight and when to walk away, it came with her royal training too. Turning into Bowen, I took a big inhale trying to forget she existed when his arms wrapped around me lightly.
“I was going to read the room before I started handing out joints, but this is earned.” Khaos handed me a joint with a lighter ready as the rest of the party migrated inside the white tent for dinner to be served.
Bowen gave him a quizzical stare followed up with, “Aren’t you sober now?”
Grace held the lighter to the end and told me to inhale slowly while answering for him, “Events only. And try to blow it that way, girlfriend.”
Looking to Bowen, he nodded softly like a non-verbal cue that made getting high on our wedding day okay. Standing planted in the same spot, I watched him get further away while his friends walked me away from the scene my mother had tried to make.
Feeling Khaos’s arm around my neck, I held the joint like it was a loaded gun as they walked me to the side of the tent away from anyone who may have been looking. Justice stood in front of me with eyes seemed too sympathetic for her fun hair. Out of nowhere, her arms wrapped around me tightly and held me against her.
“I’m so sorry if I was anything like that.” I couldn’t help but forgive her and wrap my arms around her too.
I watched Vic hold a vile to his nose, taking a big sniff, clearly ready to have a good time. Jus made her way back over to his side and gave him a smack on the ass as soon as she was close enough, making me laugh before he pulled her in for a kiss as they snuck away from the party.
Khaos pushed his lips to the joint I was still pinching since his arms were now occupied, wrapped around Grace and her baby bump. She was still pissed from interacting with my mom until he brought a smile to her face, whispering what I can only imagine as sweet nothings in her ear.
I felt a soft slap on my shoulder and turned to face Grimm, it was his attempt to provide comfort, and I took it the way he wanted me to because I knew feelings were something he was ever good at. He used to be cold like Bowen seems now, but something was different about him. It was easy to give that credit to Abigail who came right over to give me a hug before pressing a kiss to Grimm’s cheek.
They were all fucked up in different ways, damaged souls just trying to live on with their innocent hearts.
He had good people around him, ones that would fight the world for each other, and that only made me more confused as to why Bowen ended up so seemingly alone.
BOWEN
Half of my suit was already off, slowly coming off in pieces as the night went on and on. Weddings were endless, and I liked definite timelines.
I liked things to expire so I could fake enjoying them for a reasonable length of time.
I already gave up being around people and the alcohol when I retired upstairs. That was the thing about having parties at your house—there’s nowhere to run and hide.
All my clothes were weighing down on my shoulders, heavier than my normal attire. Running my hand through my hair, messing it back up the way it normally was, I started to see myself reflected back in the mirror instead of what I was forced to be—a husband.
The guys didn’t spare the time to knock when they came into the office space I had upstairs with glasses and a bottle of Henny. They knew it was my poison of choice, and I respected them for keeping that information on whatever mental post it they had.
I didn’t let people know me. It was easier that way, no one gets hurt. When you get to know someone, you can’t stop sharing once you get to the bad stuff—they expect to know it all, good and bad.
No one is worthy of knowing my trauma.
All you get is face value—Bowen Astor, the menacing creep who does what he’s told, starves himself of everything, and drinks more than anyone should. Trauma took Eve’s place and left me with some interesting side effects: aversion to food, aversion to sex, and aversion to humanity. I was a walking dead guy dried out by alcohol consumption.
Khaos handed me a full glass of the brown liquor and I downed it before the toast even happened, making Vic fill it up again. “You don’t need a whiskey dick on your wedding night, man. Trust me you’re gonna need the energy.”
I didn’t even think of that as an out. Now I was.
I had zero interest in fucking Eve tonight with so many lies surrounding us. I had less interest in being naked around her and even less to sleep in the same bed. Human interaction was something I had been successfully starving myself of since she left, and she wasn’t about to change that after just a few moments of letting myself be weakened by her.
And by my heart that beats for her.
Khaos spoke next, “Don’t even have to worry about condoms now. Married status.” He sang the tune even though no one was reacting.