Page 81 of What Doesn't Kill You…

"We need to spread out," Harvey said loudly. "Girls, we're heading to the other side."

The teens hurried across the aisle and sat in the front row. Harvey slid in behind them. Marigold gave him two thumbs up as Jasmine rushed down the sandy aisle to sit beside Harvey. She tucked her arm in his and beamed widely. Next to arrive was Katrina, who floated towards them with a smile and a little bouquet of cream and white flowers in her hand. She took up her position opposite Max and, as one, they all turned to watch the bride arrive.

And there she was.

Max sucked in a breath as the whole messy event narrowed to just one person.

Violet.

She was dressed in the pants and vest he'd bought for her, and they fitted like a glove. Her hair was a silken waterfall, smooth and straight down her back, the black hues in stark contrast to the white of her clothes. And in her hand was a large bouquet of beautiful blooms, none of which compared to her.

Over to the side of the seated area, the guitarist started to play the song Max had told the wedding planner to use for Violet's walk toward him. The one he'd picked the night before and called her about that morning. She hadn't been pleased with the last-minute change, but Max had insisted. He was glad he did.

As the singer raised his voice, in a rendition of Alicia Keys' Girl On Fire, Violet started her walk toward him. Of course, she walked alone. His Violet would never let another man give her away because she belonged to no one. But, if you were lucky, she might share herself with you.

In that moment, Max felt so lucky he was lightheaded.

It's all fake.

The voice in his head was small and barely noticeable. Because nothing about this felt fake.

Nothing.

Not the welcoming family. Not friends watching on. And especially not the woman walking toward him.

Hell.

He was in so much trouble.

Violet almost wished she'd asked her father to walk her down the aisle. At least that way she could have hidden behind him. With everyone looking at her, and the photographer taking pictures, she felt like she was naked in church. The rings Lian had given her were burning a hole in her pocket. With each step she took, they rubbed together, and she swore she could hear the sound they made. It was a musical whisper repeating liar, liar, liar, liar…

Her gaze swept over the emotional faces of her family, saw the pride in her father's eyes, the tears in her mother's, and the excitement burning bright in her nieces. So much hope and joy.

And she was lying to all of them.

Her steps faltered at the thought, and she hoped people would blame it on her trying to walk in the sand. The bouquet in her hands felt heavy and out of place. The welcoming expression on the face of the officiant, standing under the arch, seemed to mock her.

This was wrong.

She shouldn't be doing this.

Her family would be devastated when she told them it was all a lie. Her honor would be impugned. She'd never be able to hold her head high again. All because of a job.

And then her gaze fell on Max.

She saw the heat in his eyes, and felt his knowing smile like a cool breeze on her skin. Yes. He got it. He understood. They were in this confusing mess together. And knowing that gave her strength. As she watched, he reached out a hand, offering his support, silently telling her it would all be okay.

She desperately wanted to believe him.

Taking a deep breath, Violet straightened her shoulders and strode toward him, as the song the singer sang began to register.

Girl On Fire?

Her eyebrow shot up as her cheeks burned. Max's smile widened. Suddenly she saw him, under her in bed whispering that she was setting him ablaze. Telling her she burned him up. Telling her he loved it.

She saw his eyes darken with the knowledge she understood the message of the song. And she did. It wasn't just about sex. It was about him, telling her, he liked her heat, her fierceness, her strength. The song was a gift she held close. One she knew she would never talk about, not even with Max.

When she reached him, she clutched the bouquet in one hand and took his outstretched hand with the other.