I feel my shoulders sag in relief. Of course, she’s right. I’m just being silly. Today is my wedding day, not a day for thinking negative thoughts. So why can’t I get that niggling feeling out of my head, that something terrible is about to happen? There’s a knock on the door, and she hurries over to answer it. “Zeke,” she says, sounding happy. “Come on in.”
Leaning against my crutch, I plaster a smile on my face that will hopefully convince the biggest doubter, and slowly turn around to face Zeke. He’s the spitting image of his father in his dapper suit, and I let out a low wolf whistle. “Looking good, hon,” I tease. He blushes beet red and ducks his head. “I’m meant to take you to get married,” he states quietly, looking awfully embarrassed.
I can’t help the small laugh that escapes my lips. “Well, then.” I grin. “By all means, let’s go.”
He offers me his arm and I take it, balancing the crutch under my other arm as he gently leads me out of the room, preceded by Ruth, jangling the keys to her car nervously in her hand. I’m still feeling a little worried, but force a tight smile as she holds the car door open for me.
The ceremony is meant to be a quick, quiet affair, but as we arrive at the stables, my jaw hits the floor. It looks as though the entire town has turned out for the wedding. I fight down a brief wave of nausea and force a smile as I turn to Zeke. “Are you ready to do this?” I ask, not feeling half as confident as I sound.
“Absolutely.” He grins, jumping out of the car as Ruth puts it into park and hurrying around to my side to get the door. As I stand by the car, leaning on my crutch, I wish I’d listened to reason and brought the wheelchair. Why do I always have to be so damn stubborn?
Zeke leads me slowly down the aisle behind Ruth who’s acting as my Maid of Honor. A twinge of pain twists my heart as I think of my sister, Natalie, who’s busy with her college finals. I wish she were here, she’d find a way to make this into a joke. I can’t help but think of what a strange picture I must make. This will make a great romance novel someday: The Bride with the Fucked-Up Leg.
We’d be fucking millionaires.
But first, I need to get through today. And the man standing at the end of the aisle in his black suit is my salvation. He’s staring back at me as I hobble down the aisle, a myriad of emotions passing through his eyes, but never quite reaching the rest of his handsome face.
Has he changed his mind? Is he already regretting his decision? I feel myself start to panic, but Zeke’s reassuring arm on mine keeps me grounded.
We reach the end of the aisle, and Stone steps heavily forward and takes my arm. I immediately miss the comfort of Zeke, but this man is about to be my husband. I’d do well to remember that. We turn silently to face the local pastor who clears his throat and begins to speak.
If I’m completely honest, I don’t know what’s going on in the ceremony. Everything is such a blur.
But before I know it, there’s a beautiful solitaire diamond ring on my finger, and Stone is kissing me rather stiffly as people cheer. I feel a sadness threaten to overwhelm me as I think about my parents. What would they have thought of this match?
Stone leads me back down the aisle, and I force a smile at everyone as we pass them. My leg is starting to ache, and I wish once more I hadn’t been so damn stubborn about walking down the aisle.
It’s as though Stone realizes my discomfort, because the next thing I know, he’s swinging me up into his arms and I’m forced to wrap my arms around his neck to stop from falling. Everyone around us cheers, seeing nothing more than a happy couple just married. They don’t see the set line of his lips, or the small tick in his jaw as he carries me to the waiting car.
The reception is held at Saddles, and for once I’m able to enjoy myself rather than serve food and drinks behind the bar. Or at least, I probably could enjoy myself, if my husband would speak to me . . . or look at me.
“Stone,” I say quietly, laying a hand on his arm. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” he replies tersely.
I can’t help the sigh that escapes my lips as I sit back in my wheelchair. He glances over at me and releases a heavy breath, raking his free hand over his head.
“Look, it’s not you, okay?” he says.
“It’s you?” I smile dryly. What a cliché line.
He smiles back. “Something like that.”
“I’m sorry we can’t do the whole first dance,” I apologize, gesturing to my bandaged leg.
“It’s okay,” he says more gently. “We have the rest of our lives to dance.”
“Do we?” I murmur, but I don’t think he hears me over the band starting up.
I sit there for about an hour, alternating between jealousy and misery as I watch the other couples dance. This is my wedding, dammit. I should be up there, dancing my heart out. Not sitting here, nursing a glass of wine and feeling sorry for myself.
“Shan?” Zeke says, walking over to me.
“Yeah, sweetie?” I smile.
He’s matured so much in just a week. It’s hard to believe this is the same shy kid who refused to speak to or look at anyone when he first arrived.
“Would you like to dance?” he asks, holding his hand out expectantly.
I glance down at my wheelchair, then back at Zeke. I can’t stop the laughter that bubbles up from my chest and spills out of my lips. I laugh until there are tears rolling down my cheeks. Then I’m squealing as Zeke marches to the back of the wheelchair, removes the brakes and pushes me into the middle of the dance floor. He spins me around and around as I laugh, then stops and dances in front of me. I can’t help but move my upper body in a strange attempt to dance along with him. This is the happiest I’ve been all day, and it’s all thanks to my new stepson.
There’s a tap on my shoulder and I glance over to see Stone standing behind me, a strange smile on his face. “May I cut in?”
This brings fresh laughter, and then it’s Stone spinning my chair around while Zeke laughs delightedly. Will I be as happy as I am right now for the rest of my life? I don’t ever want this night to end.
All of a sudden, people around us stop dancing. They’re staring over at the door of the bar.
The band stops playing, and Stone turns my chair around. However, because I’m sitting while everyone else is standing, I can’t see a thing. “What’s going on?” I ask Zeke.
“It’s the police,” he says in a low voice.
The police? What the hell are they doing here? Has something happened?
Stone pushes forward through the crowd. “Can I help you, officers?”
“We’re looking for a Miss Shannon Harper,” I hear one of the policemen say.
“It’s Mrs. Shannon Stone now,” Stone corrects him, and I feel my chest puff up proudly.
The crowd parts, and I see two young, armed officers standing there with Stone, who gestures to me.
One tips his hat and moves toward my chair. “Mrs. Stone?”
“Yes?”
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to come with us.”
“Is there a problem?” I can feel the blood draining from my face.
“Mrs. Stone, I’m sorry to inform you like this, but you’re under arrest for the murder of Rachel Stevenson. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law . . .”
He’s still talking as he pushes my wheelchair forward, but I don’t hear him. All I can picture is that poor girl, floating in the river. Had that been her name? Rachel? My heart aches for the loss of her life. There’s a strange ringing in my ears as the room erupts.
“She didn’t do it!” someone shouts.
“Please, you can’t do this,” Ruth begs.
“NO!” Stone bellows, forcing himself between us and the door. “You’re not fucking taking her. Who the fuck is Rachel Stevenson? We don’t know anyone by that name!”
“Mr. Stone,” one of the officers says. “Please remove yourself, or we’ll be forced to arrest you for obstruction of justice.”