The guests filled the rows, hundreds of them, the men in their best suits and the women in hats and jewels, and the photographers lined the aisle like they were waiting for a royal wedding. It was grand. It was luxurious. It was exactly what the old hag would have wanted, and Madam Lily had delivered it exactly to plan.
"The bride is still waiting inside her car, sir," one of my men told me. "She cannot come out until the groom has arrived."
I found it unnecessarily dramatic. But I got out of my car, stood by it, and I waited.
Then the door of the bride's car opened, and the bride began to get out.
I quickly read a message on my phone before I looked up. Then I saw the bride.
And suddenly, I couldn't breathe. My phone almost fell off my hand, and my heart began to beat so fast, it was impossible to control it.
The bride stepped out in white silk, a dress that seemed to drink the light, and I should have been looking at her, but I was not.
Behind her stood the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Scarlett. The maid of honor, in a dress the color of deep green water that brought out the fire in her hair, her shoulders bare, her eyes bright, and she had no idea what she was doing to me, none at all. I had known she was beautiful. I had not known she was this. Then her eyes found mine across the lawn, and she smiled.
The smile shattered every bit of self control I had left.

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