Not Until Then

I shouldn’t be here.

I should leave now.

But Lucas’ words from last week pinned me on my seat, convincing me that I’d be doing him a favor by being here. “I don’t want this,” he had said, stroking my cheek as he looked me straight in the eyes, “but I was given no choice, Bree. Diane’s the daughter of the company’s partner; you know how my Dad is. At all cost, I was to marry her. Even if it’s against me.” He looked at me pleadingly, begging me to understand.

And I did. I did understand Lucas; I always did.

But then it sunk into me that we were talking about marriage. My Lucas was about to marry another girl. I couldn’t live with that. I wouldn’t live with that. And that was why I was here: to save Lucas and me.

I peeked at my wristwatch and saw that the wedding’s about to start. The flower girls lining up in the aisle confirmed that. They were dressed elegantly as everything in this church looked expensive. That wasn’t questionable though. It was the Ramirez and Lerman’s wedding anyway.

The orchestra started playing and I immediately recognized Pachelbel’s Canon on play as the flower girls walked in rhythm, splitting at the end of the aisle, at a spot just before the altar.

Finally, much to my impatience, the bride appeared with her arms around her Dad’s—whom I dearly knew. It was Mr. John Ramirez, owner of the prestigious High Trend Magazine—InStyle Magazine’s competitor in the fashion magazine industry.

From where I sat, which was the second to the last row of varnished wooden church benches, I could see Lucas smiling up at her soon-to-be-wife-if-I-don’t-do-anything like a maniac. His green eyes practically sparked that it made something inside of me spark in return. Something I’d like to call anger with stirring jealousy. But his words played back in my head; I somehow concluded that he was only acting for the benefit of his father.

The music halted as the bride, Diane, was shifted from John Ramirez’ arm to my Lucas’. I immediately felt queasy at their contact. They smiled at each other for a moment before turning their back on me and facing the preacher.

It was silent. Too silent that I was tempted to rip it by objecting right there and then. But I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t risk my name like that. If I were to object in a wedding, I’d to it right after the preacher says “speak now” or whatever it is that he says to prompt the haters.

“We are all gathered here…” he started, just as I began tuning out.

This was it. I needed to do this. I loved Lucas too much to just give him up. We’ve been together for over a year and even though all ties were cut last week, when he broke up with me, he made it clear that he didn’t want this. And so did I. If he couldn’t do anything to stop this, I willingly would do the honors.

He needed to do this though; I knew it as much as he did. His Dad, James Lerman, is a strict, all-business man. He makes things go his way, whether one likes it or not. The Lermans own a publishing company. That’s how Lucas and I met; they used to be the publisher of InStyle. I was twenty-one then, new at my job, while he was three years older. We instantly clicked, like a puzzle waiting for the last, most vital, piece. At that instance, I knew we were in it for good. And I still believed we were.