Page 51 of The Spare

My gaze lands on Sam. He’s grinning from ear to ear. I can’t help but wonder if he’ll find some way to put a stop to all of this. He must be annoyed at having to put on such a grand show for everyone. I mean, it’s not like he was a theater kid in high school.

Yet before I can consider this further, my new husband dramatically pulls my chair closer to his, reaches for the nape of my neck, and pulls me into him for a passionate kiss. His lips are warm and wet and taste of Sutter Creek Cabernet. He leans back, our noses rubbing together before he drags his tongue along the seam of my lips, going back in to deepen the kiss.

Good Lord. How am I ever going to recover from this day? I’ll be replaying these moments with his mouth on mine until I draw my last breath.

His efforts are met with thunderous cheers.

“Are you drunk?” I whisper.

“No, why?” He grins at me.

“You keep doing that. Kissing and touching me.”

“You’re my wife. Isn’t that part of the package?”

I stiffen. Is this pompous dickhead kidding with this?

He pulls me closer, burying his face in my hair, his breath warm against my ear. “Calm your jets, Queen P. Once all the eyes are off of us, I’ll happily keep my distance.”

My face falls, but I’m quick to put my blissfully happy bride mask back on. The show must go on. Not sure why I’m so disappointed. I knew this was theater. I guess hearing it out loud popped the dreamy bubble I’d been enjoying.

With the toast over, our friends join us on the makeshift dancefloor as we spend the next few moments getting lost in the music. I try to relax, but having him confirm his passionate kisses are all an act is doing a number on my ability to enjoy myself. I’ve barely been married a few hours, and I’ve somehow fallen prey to his charms. I consider my thoughtful gift from Taylor. Her insightful lyrics shared with lovers everywhere that will stand the test of time.

Stop looking for confessions of love, Alexis. Those are never going to come.

The wedding planner ushers us over to cut the cake. Smiling for the photographer, we navigate the magic I told Sam I felt cheated out of. But now it feels like an unappetizing joke. The sugary confection I’d been so tickled about sharing with our guests now tastes like sand.

The harsh reality of the game I’m playing is mocking me. I’ve imagined this fairy tale wedding to Sam since I was a young girl. But these memories won’t keep me warm a year from now.

As if that isn’t torture enough, Justine Lee makes her way in our direction. Sam’s mother is draped in silk and a snarky, skeptical armor that makes the room feel ten degrees colder. She glides toward us, her eyes scanning my face as if looking for the price tag on my soul.

“A lovely farce, isn’t it?” she purrs, her voice loud enough for only the three of us to hear. “The flowers are exquisite, Samuel. It’s almost enough to distract from the fact that you two have barely spoken to one another since high school, but yet we’re supposed to believe in this rush to the altar. At least if you’d gotten Alexis pregnant, everyone would fall for the shotgun wedding routine. But it’s hard to get knocked up when you can’t stand one another.”

Sam moves in, pulling me tight into his side. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Mother. While you were gallivanting around Europe, we found our way back to one another. And unlike you, we want to make sure we’re ready to bring children into the world. We don’t want to ruin their chance at love one day. I’m hoping I can be a good husband and father, despite my role models.”

His words make my heart ache. I knew his parents’ dysfunctional relationship had affected him, but never considered to what extent.

Justine rolls her eyes. “I’ve lost all respect for you, Alexis. You were always such a bright girl. I guess you figured if you couldn’t have Sebastian, the other brother was the next best thing. How disappointed you’ll be. I’ll be shocked if this embarrassment of a marriage lasts a month before his philandering ways have you packing your bags.”

My mouth falls open in utter disbelieve. She doesn’t wait for a reply, slithering away to find another guest to terrorize.

“She’s a real piece of work,” he mutters.

I should feel sorry for him, that anyone’s parent could treat him this way. Forget the awful things she said to me. How anyone would say something so heinous to their child is beyond me. But her words struck a chord so deep it’s more than unsettling. While he’d promised to remain faithful to our vows, would they count if the marriage wasn’t consummated? Could someone with the playboy lifestyle he’s led really be able to turn that off for a year’s time?

I lean against the edge of the head table, trying to push the negative thoughts from my mind. The weight of the day is finally crashing down. I’m exhausted from putting on this show. From smiling until my face hurts and pretending I don’t feel the one-sided, static electricity every time Sam brushes against me.

“You okay?” Sam asks, his unexpected voice in my ear causes me to jerk.

I look at the ring on my finger, then at the sprawling vineyard through the windows. I remind myself not to let Justine’s words take up residence in my head. We did the right thing. Saving this vineyard is more important than the two of us. It deserves to live on for generations to come. My heart clenches. When Sam decides to settle down with his real wife and have children he can pass it on to one day.

I yawn to cover my half-hearted smile. “I’m fine.” But I’m realizing that for everyone else, the wedding is nearly over. While for us, this is just the beginning.

We head back to the dancefloor with all of our friends for one last dance before we head out. Yet as the infectious melody of Alex Warren’s song, “Fever Dream,” plays, I can’t help but stress about the road ahead. While our friends smile, laugh, and dance, I’m focused on the profound lyrics. Because Alex could’ve written these words just for me.

There’s no avoiding my feelings. I can pretend all I want. Yet no matter where this year takes us, I’ll be damned if Sam loves me, and damned if he doesn’t.

Chapter Twenty-Two