Alex

T he chapel is quiet. I'm in the groom's room, off to the side of the altar, pinning my boutonniere to my black tux, when there's a knock at the door before it opens.

"You ready?" Emil asks as he enters. Worry crinkles his forehead.

"Is that your way of asking if I'm bailing? Because I'm not changing my mind."

"Good. Good," he says with a distracted nod. "I know she hasn't been very receptive to your calls."

"It's understandable. I know this isn't something she wants," I say, thinking about her saying she was taken. It would've been nice to talk to her and get to know her a little before today, but it doesn't change my mind."

Emil rubs his hands together, then looks out the door. He paces the room, checks his watch, and lets out a quiet grumble.

"You going to tell me what's going on? I can see something's bothering you. We're almost family, you know. You can talk to me."

Emil tilts his head as he considers my words. He nods before he starts talking.

"Extending our families isn't something I considered," he says. But it'll be nice having you as part of the family if this wedding happens. I was hoping I wouldn't have to tell you, but she's not here yet. She left this morning to get her hair done but was supposed to come here to finish getting ready. She doesn't drive, and usually, she asks me or one of my drivers for a ride, but she didn't. So I have no idea who picked her up or where she went."

"You think she ran away?"

"Maybe not run away. I think she might've…"

"Run to him?" Just thinking about him made me jealous, even though I had no reason to be. I know she'll be here. I used my secret weapon to make sure of it.

"You know about him?" he asks.

"The day we met, she told me she was taken and that she wasn't going to let you choose who she was going to marry."

"And from that you decided you wanted to marry her? Are you a glutton for punishment?"

"Maybe," I say with a laugh. "I guess I trusted you. I figured you had your reasons for arranging a marriage for her."

"This guy she's involved with is bad news, and she doesn't see it. It may seem outrageous, but this is the only way I can think of to protect her from him." He checks his watch again, looks outside the window, and shakes his head. "Are you sure you're not going to back out?"

"Let me tell you something," I say. "When they first told me that Emil Wagner was looking to arrange his daughter's marriage, the reason I said I would meet you is because we have similar families. My brother and I lost our mom at a young age, and when our father passed away several years ago, that was it for our family. That left just my brother and I, just like it's you and your daughter. Small families are different. I thought we could relate to each other that way."

Emil nods before I continue.

"So when I saw her that day, and she said she was taken, it reminded me of how many times I've convinced myself that I was in love with someone, not because I cared about that person, but because I was looking for someone that wasn't part of my small family to connect with."

"Do you think you're doing that now with my daughter? Is that why you said you'd marry her?"

"No. I want to marry her because something burst to life inside of me the moment I met her. We barely spoke, but I felt a connection with her. I felt like I had been searching for her my entire life. We were meant to meet for a reason." I try to gauge what Emil is thinking.

Is he thinking I've lost my mind? Is he wishing he had chosen someone else?

The worry eases from Emil's face.

"You have no idea how happy that makes me," he says. "She wouldn't want me to tell you this, but she feels the same way. She hasn't admitted it to me, but I saw how you affected her that day. I recognized it as what happened when I met her mother. It's a special thing when you feel that."

"My brother calls it the spark. My father might've used that phrase, too."

"It's a good description." He looks at his watch again and frowns. "I'm not looking to force her to do anything she doesn't want to do. Especially when we're talking about something as serious as marriage. But I know if she continues on this road she's on, she'll be unhappy for the rest of her life. She deserves more than that. I'm trying to protect her, and this is the best way I know how."

A soft knock brings our attention to the doorway. Reggie, my sometime driver and butler, peeks his white-haired head in and then shuffles into the room.

"She's here," he says. "I'm sorry we're late.

"Who are you?" Emil asks.

"This is Reggie," I say. "He's worked for my family for many years. He seems to put women at ease, so even though Emilee didn't want to meet with me or even talk to me, I offered her the use of my driver whenever she'd like. I consider him my secret weapon."

"I just tell it like it is, Sir," Reggie says.

"You know I hate it when you call me that."

"Yes, Sir." Reggie smiles, clears his throat, and looks serious again. He turns to Emil. " requested that I pick up Miss Emilee this morning and take her wherever she needed to go. In the past week, I've taken her shopping, for a mani/pedi, and for several other appointments as she readied herself for the wedding."

Emil nods. "Good idea."

"Did she say anything about Dylan?" I ask.

"No, Sir, but she did text and call someone several times and seemed frustrated afterward."

"Now that he knows he can't use her, he's probably moved on," Emil says. "No surprise really. I always suspected he was more interested in my bank account than in her. Which is a shame."

"His loss," I say.

"Your gain."

An hour later, I'm standing at the altar next to a minister. Since everything was planned in under a week, and my brother is still on his honeymoon, our only wedding guests are Reggie and Emil.

The organ begins the familiar wedding notes, and Emilee appears in the doorway. She's wearing a vintage floor-length V-neck dress with a cream lace overlay and colorful floral appliques. Her hair is down, and has flowers woven into her soft waves. I can't help but think how angelic she looks.

She begins walking down the aisle towards me, her father alongside her. She looks nervous and apprehensive, and I worry that she'll resent me for marrying her when she doesn't want to. I keep my eyes on her face in the hope that she'll lock eyes with me so we can feel that spark again, but she keeps her eyes focused on the carpet runner beneath her feet.

She's walking too deliberately slow. She's going to run. Would I chase her?

Emilee stops midway and turns her head towards the front of the chapel. I can't help but think she's waiting for someone. Maybe someone to rescue her. Looking disappointed, she begins walking again, but now I'm keenly aware of all the street noise coming from outside. I glance towards the window, expecting to see her knight in shining armor, but thankfully there's no one.

I bring my gaze back to Emilee, and our eyes meet, but she quickly looks away guiltily. I turn my eyes toward Emil, and he nods with a defeated expression, also aware that she's waiting for Dylan.

Eventually Emilee and Emil stop a few steps before me. Emil whispers something to his daughter, and she kisses his cheek. He offers her hand to me, and I take it then help guide her up the couple of steps to the altar.

This might not be an average wedding, but as she stands beside me, I silently promise her that I'll do everything in my power to make her happy.

As if she can read my thoughts, she looks up at me, and our eyes lock as she smiles.

"You're stunning," I whisper.

"You're old," she says.

Emilee moved into my Hamptons mansion, which paled in comparison to what she grew up in. Did she hate it? Love it? I wouldn't know since she hadn't spoken to me once in the three weeks since we got married. If she wasn't looking at me with disdain, she was acting as if I didn't exist.

Maybe I made a mistake by giving her a suite of rooms, but I wasn't going to force myself on her. If she wants to hate me, that's fine. Just means I need to work a little harder to make that change.

Right now, I'd be happy if she liked me. I can't even think about love right now. I'd be happy if she just tolerated me.

As I descend the curved staircase with my rolling luggage, I hear Emilee's voice in the kitchen. I can't make out her words, but she sounds happy.

Maybe this is the day she gives me a chance .

Leaving my bag in the foyer, I enter the large, country-style kitchen. Reggie is finishing his coffee while Emilee sits at the counter. Her long hair is loose and flowing down her back.

"Good morning," I say.

"Good morning, Sir," Reggie says. "I've prepared some coffee if you'd like."

"Thank you, Reggie."

I turn to Emilee, but she's already at the doorway. I follow her into the foyer, where she's grabbing her handbag.

"I just want to let you know that I'm?—"

She walks out the front door and pulls it hard behind her. The heavy door makes a dull thud.

"…going to be gone for a few days," I say.

"I'm sorry, Sir," Reggie says as he grabs the keys to the limo. "If you'd like, I can let her know."

"No, she'll figure it out for herself." I sigh. "And please stop it with the sir already. You're family."

"I'm still doing my job, Sir." He peers out the window, then turns to me. "You suggested I tell you if there's anything suspicious with her."

"Yes. I promised her father I would keep her safe. And…"

"And you already care deeply for her. Even if she's dismissive of you."

"There's something there, Reggie. I can't explain it, but I know she's the one. Where are you taking her today?"

"That's what I was going to tell you. She asked for me to simply drive her around. I suspect she's looking for him."

"Great," I grunt.

"Shall I arrange a car to take you to the airport?"

I open the front door in time to see Emilee slide into the back seat of the limo. Why is she looking for him? Can't she see she means nothing to him while I'm right here waiting for her?

"Thank you, Reggie, but I think I'll be driving myself. If it's alright, I might follow you at a distance for a bit. I need to see this for myself."

"As you wish, Sir."

After the limo leaves, I head to my car and put my luggage in the trunk. The private road to my home is so long that I know I have plenty of time to be able to follow them.

Reggie heads towards the New York skyline, driving along the Hudson River on the Belt Parkway before taking an exit into Brooklyn. I check the time, but figure I can always take the next flight if I miss mine. This is more important.

I'm keeping a distance, careful not to be seen in case Emilee looks behind her, but still very aware that I'm stalking my wife.

The limo stops in front of Spumoni Gardens, a pizza place. I park a couple of cars behind and wait in my car until she exits hers.

It's early, and the restaurant isn't open yet, but people are already waiting at the outdoor tables under the bright blue umbrellas.

Emilee walks up to a man dressed in black with his hair pulled back in a bun. He's seated at a table with two other men in similar attire. I remember seeing Emilee with one of these men the day we met.

The other two men get up and move to another table as Emilee starts talking to man-bun, who I realize is Dylan. She's very animated, but I'm far enough away that I can't hear her talking. I move closer, staying behind her, and stand by a nearby table.

"All you have to do is tell my dad how you feel about me," she says.

"And why would I do that?" Dylan asks.

"If you do that, then I can get an annulment, and we can get married. He just wants to hear that you love me."

"But I don't."

"But you have to! You do love me. We made love, you called me your baby, and you said you wanted to be with me."

Dylan laughs. "Yeah, baby. Because that's what guys do to get some pussy. I thought you would put in the good word with your dad and get me some extra pay. It would've been worth putting up with you."

"Putting up with me?"

"Fuck, you're such a clingy bitch."

"But I thought?—"

"Don't you get it? It doesn't matter what you think," he scoffs. "All that matters is what I get. Can't believe I have to spell that out to you."

"But Dylan…"

She steps closer to him and puts her hand on his arm.

"Get the fuck away from me," he says.

He slaps her hand, then gives her a push. Emilee stumbles backward, but I catch her.

"Are you okay?" I ask, letting her go.

"?" she whispers, then nods.

I've seen enough. I take two steps towards Dylan, with my hand balled up, then punch him on the nose, breaking it. Dylan falls back off the bench. His hands fly to his face and cover his nose as blood begins to gush.

Standing over him, I look down at him, wanting to hurt him even more.

"Don't you dare talk to my wife ever again," I say. I reach for my wallet, pull out a few hundreds, and throw them at him. "Get yourself cleaned up. You're an embarrassment."

As I leave, Emilee follows. I stop at the limo and open the door for her.

"In case you didn't hear me earlier, I'm going away on a business trip for a few days," I say before walking back to my car and leaving.

A few days later, I came home late after the business trip. She's been on my mind constantly, and I thought about reaching out to her, but with how little she speaks to me, I didn't see the point.

While I was gone, I heard from Reggie, who informed me that Emilee seemed a little different since that day. She started visiting her father again and no longer wanted to drive around like she had that day.

As I head upstairs, I hear Emilee crying. I'm torn for a moment as I stand in the hall. I can continue to the right, towards my bedroom, or I can go left to where her suite of rooms is.

I continue to my room, thinking about how she doesn't want me around. I can't get the sound of her crying out of my head. I return to the hall, wondering why she's so upset and how long she's been feeling this way. Is it because of Dylan? Is this from what happened the other day? Or is there something else? Can I do something to help her feel better? Does she even want my help? I need to try.

Heading down the hall, the sounds of her crying become louder. They're not constant, but she sounds miserable.

As I reach her door, I wonder if I should knock. Maybe this is the wrong time for me to push myself on her. Maybe I should continue leaving her alone.

"Emilee?" I say, then knock on the door. "Are you okay?"

The door swings open. Emilee has her long hair pulled up into a messy bun on the top of her head. She's wearing oversized, boxy pajamas with watercolor hot pink ribbon bows on them. Her eyes are red and swollen.

She throws her arms around me and buries her head in my neck. I breathe her in, finding her vanilla scent intoxicating. I hold her close as she cries.

After a few minutes, she sniffles and takes a step back from me. She wipes her tear-stained face and forces a smile.

"I'm so sorry for how I've treated you," she says.

Stunned, I'm without words. She takes my hand and leads me into her bedroom. The television is on, but whatever she was watching is paused. She sits on her bed and motions for me to join her.

"Is that why you've been crying?" I ask.

"Because of my apology? No." She reaches for the remote and presses play. "I've been watching the beginning of Up. Have you ever seen it?"

I look at the TV and see an animated movie playing.

"It's a cartoon?" I ask.

"You've got to be kidding me. You've never seen Up? You know, Pixar?"

"I don't have a kid to go to the movies with."

"Oh, , you have no idea what you've been missing. This isn't a kids' thing. The beginning of Up is a montage of the best relationship ever. It's my relationship goal." Tears begin to form in her eyes. She looks up and blinks as she holds a finger up to me. "I'm sorry, I know it's stupid, but all I have to do is think about them, and Ellie's dying and…" Emilee gets choked up and shakes her head. "I'm sorry, I just can't. I can't talk about it."

She wraps her arms around me again, and I hold her as I wonder what happened to the woman I left three days before. Once the tears stop, I reach over to her nightstand and grab a tissue box to hand to her.

"I'll leave you to watch your movie," I say.

"No, you should stay. You said you've never seen it, and we never spend any time together."

"I didn't think you wanted to," I say.

"I know, again, I'm sorry about that. You're right. I didn't want to spend any time with you, but that wasn't your fault. That was all me."

"So what changed?"

She smiles as she crosses her legs underneath her. "I'll be honest. The past few days that you've been gone, I've gone through your entire home. I didn't find any pictures of women or children, nothing. You're all alone. I asked Reggie, and he said you've never been married. He said you never had anyone serious, either. You were saving yourself for me, weren't you?"

"Yes, I've been waiting for you my entire life." I laugh. "I just didn't have the time. If I'm being honest, I didn't make the time. I didn't think relationships mattered because all of mine ended so badly. Then, about a month ago, I was at my brother's wedding when I realized what I've been missing out on. The next thing I knew, I was learning about arranged marriages. Is that why you were crying? Because of the marriage?"

She takes the box of tissues, pulls one out, and dabs her eyes.

"Not completely. I needed a good cry, and the beginning of that movie always gets to me," she says. "There are a lot of reasons for me to cry. I'm a little mad at my dad about this," she points back and forth between us. "But I'm also upset about my ex."

I sit on the bed beside her, grab the remote, and turn the television off.

"I'm sorry I hit him," I say.

She shrugs. "He had it coming. Probably always did, but I didn't see the real him until the other day." She's quiet for a couple of minutes as she looks down at her hands. "I tried to reach out to him the day of our wedding. I was hoping he would come and rescue me from getting married, that he would finally tell me he loves me, and we would have our happily ever after. As you know, he didn't come. All that fighting with my dad about him, and it ended up my dad was right all along. Dylan never cared about me."

"I noticed you were distracted as you walked down the aisle. There was a point where I thought you were going to make a run for it. I was surprised you said I do."

"Not as surprised as I was. I was upset he didn't show, and I was angry my dad was forcing me to marry some old guy. No offense."

"None taken. I told your father I was too old for you, too."

"Then why did you say you wanted to marry me?"

I grin. "I wish I could tell you exactly why, but I can't. There was something about you when we passed each other in the foyer that day. It felt right."

"I felt that too," she says as she nods. "It was overwhelming, but in a good way."

"I agree. So I figured, if I felt that way from that brief moment, what would the rest of our lives be like? I texted your father right away that I would marry you."

"I think that's where my anger for you first started. I've read so many books and seen so many movies where the couple just knows immediately that they're meant to be. I thought about how easy those fictional couples have it and how difficult things with Dylan and I had always been. I started to question myself about how I felt, and I was so angry that my father was right. I figured I just needed to see him again, hear him say the words, and then I would know for sure. But you know how that went. I had been awful to you, but you still defended me. You protected me. Just like my dad said you would."

"It was the right thing to do. Following you there wasn't, but?—"

"You were right the first time—it was the right thing to do. I don't care that you followed me. You were worried about me. You were there for me. I didn't think people were really like that. I thought stuff like that was just fiction."

She yawns.

"I should go," I say. "It's late, and we both need to sleep."

"You could sleep here. With me." She pats her bed. "We are married, you know."

Did I see something there? Is she talking about sex? I push the thought from my mind and decide I need to get out of her room as quickly as possible.

"Maybe another night," I say as I stand.

"Why not tonight?" she asks. She gets up and reaches for my tie, then loosens it. "You need to relax more. Not everything needs to be about business. Come on, stay with me tonight. We can make up for lost time and keep talking."

I can't be trusted to share a bed with you .

"I had a long flight. I want to shower and get the travel funk off of me. Let's talk more in the morning. Good night, Emilee."

"Alright," she sighs. "Good night, ."

As I walk back to my room, I'm thankful that things are finally getting better between us, but I wonder if it's a little fast.

Did she replace Dylan with me?

I push the thought from my mind and remind myself of our conversation. She felt the same way I did before the wedding. None of that is based in logic, and it doesn't have to be. I'm feeling insecure and overthinking as usual. I just need to sleep.

Couldn't I sleep in her bed? Maybe sleep is all she meant. Now who's being na?ve?

I'm torn and unsure. What did she mean? I've been thinking about her sleeping down the hall for weeks now. I've imagined what her soft skin would feel like, what she would taste like. I push away the thoughts as I reach my room. The last thing she needs is a dirty old man in her life.

I remind myself that sleeping together doesn't mean sex, but that's immediately where my mind goes. She's so young, and since we haven't spoken much, I don't know what she's thinking, and I shouldn't guess.

When the time is right, I'll know. Instead of listening to my primal urge for her, I'll leave it all up to her to decide.

I shouldn't be thinking about this now anyway. It's late, and I'm tired from traveling. She probably didn't mean sex when she said I should stay. I have to remember that.

I turn on the shower and start getting ready for bed. As I step under the stream of warm water, I force myself to stop thinking about her. If this continues, I'll need to make the shower a cold one.