Forbidden Vows: Chapter 7

“This is insane,” I tell my father as we wait outside the chapel for the bride to arrive. “The fact that you keep entertaining each of Ciara’s whims does not bode well for you, Dad.”

“Eileen, she wanted to get married quickly, and Anton agreed,” Dad says.

He’s paler than usual, dark circles blooming under his eyes. It’s been two months since the engagement party, two months since I learned that my stepsister’s husband-to-be is the father of the baby growing inside me, two months since I’ve been carrying this secret with an aching heart and a heavy soul.

It’s supposed to be a joyous occasion, right?

Wrong.

It’s been hell.

“Still, a wedding of this magnitude on such short notice,” I sigh deeply. “It’s not like Anton was going to change his mind.”

Though secretly I wish he had.

“Ciara was adamant that we do this sooner rather than later,” my father says, his gaze wandering over to the town car. “I think it was because she didn’t want you to have to wait as long to marry Sergei.”

Yeah, right.

“How magnanimous of her,” I mutter.

“Eileen, this animosity between you and Ciara has to stop,” he says, then winces. “We need to come across as a strong and tight-knit front for these Russian pricks.”

“Dad, what’s wrong with you?” I ask.

“Nothing.”

“Dad.”

“Nothing, Eileen. I’m just tired and stressed out of my mind. I’m giving away two daughters this year. I’d hoped I would have a little more time with you before you leave with Sergei. Honey, I love you more than life itself. It just hurts to let you go.”

The words sound nice enough in my head.

“Here comes the bride,” Dad says as Ciara steps out of a white limo.

Her bridal gown is ridiculously dramatic. She looks like a haute couture model about to make waves at the Met Gala. It’s not a dress; it’s a sculpture made of white satin and too many layers of tulle and pearls.

She’s beautiful. Her makeup is perfect. Her hair is dyed a cool platinum blonde and woven into an intricate bun, on top of which sits an elegant gold, diamond, and pearl tiara. The veil flows gently over her bare shoulders, diamonds dancing in her ears and around her delicate neck.

“You’re absolutely gorgeous,” I tell Ciara with a warm smile. A bitter taste lingers on the back of my tongue. I’ve been throwing up all morning.

“Thank you, Eileen,” Ciara replies, measuring me from head to toe. “I wish I’d gone with the green bridesmaid dress, though. That salmon pink doesn’t do your complexion any good.”

“Eileen looks wonderful,” my father tells her, then lovingly squeezes my shoulder. “Like a proper Irish girl, this one.”

“Ready for your big day?” I ask through gritted teeth.

“I was born ready,” Ciara declares as I hand her the bridal bouquet. “You go in first with the other bridesmaids. I’ll be right on your heels.”

“I’m so proud of you, honey,” Dad tells her.

“I want to thank you for making this happen, Daddy,” Ciara replies and plants a kiss on his cheek.

The more I look at him, however, the more uneasy I feel. There’s definitely something wrong, something he’s not telling us. Several times, I’ve seen him out of breath from a simple flight of stairs. A year ago, this man could run circles around others half his age. He’s been eating less and less. He’s barely touched his favorite whiskey over the past month or so.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Dad?” I ask again.

“Go inside, Eileen. Let’s not spoil Ciara’s special day,” he bluntly replies.

“Come on, Eileen, lead the girls in. I’ve got a fabulous entrance to make,” Ciara giggles.

I force myself to walk up the steps while a cold sweat works through me. I keep my head up as I grab my bouquet from the side table next to the ceremony hall’s main entrance, then give the other bridesmaids a nod to follow me. I’m supposed to lead the way, yet I feel so out of place.

I take a deep breath as I push open the doors.

“Here comes the bride,” I hear one of Ciara’s close friends announce somewhere behind me. I roll my eyes.

In an instant, everything changes.

My breathing becomes erratic as I take it all in. The two hundred guests turn around to face us. Up ahead at the altar, I see the minister in his pristine white robe, purple and gold flowing over his shoulders. Next to him stands Anton in his tuxedo, looking so goddamn handsome it’s a bloody sin. His brother and best man are beside him.

I catch Laura giving me a wink and an encouraging smile. “You can do this,” she mouths at me. I return the smile, but suddenly everything starts to spin.

“Oh no, something’s not right,” I whisper.

Cold sweat is joined by a hot sensation swirling through my body. All of a sudden, I feel as if I swallowed a lead ball, and it’s currently swelling inside my stomach. Looking over my shoulder, I see the bridesmaids following me without a care in the world, smiling and drawing admiration from the wedding guests.

I look forward again, noticing the frown on Anton’s face as he watches me.

I’m still walking, right?

No, I’m falling.

The entire view shifts too quickly as someone gasps, “Oh, my gosh!”

I hit the ground and land on my side. My whole body goes limp before cold and hot hits me at the same time. I stare at the ceiling. I hear rushed footsteps, my father’s voice booming across the wedding hall.

“Out of my way!” he snarls.

But it’s Anton’s face that pops into my field of vision first.

His hazel eyes are wide, filled with fear and concern, and that same softness I remember from the night we met.

Darkness tugs at me.

“Stay with me,” he says before I can’t hear him anymore.

His lips moving in silence is all I see before everything fades to black.

A sea of voices washes at the shore of my consciousness as I come to. I’m being wheeled on a gurney, red lights flashing around me.

“Oh, shit,” I hear myself say as I realize what happened.

My father is close by, and so is Ciara. He looks worried. She looks inconvenienced.

“What’s going on?” I ask the paramedics just as they’re about to load me into the ambulance.

“You passed out,” one of them says. “We’re taking you to the hospital.”

Behind my father and stepsister, I spot some of the guests lingering on the chapel’s front steps, a few of the bridesmaids, Laura and Andrei, Paddy, my father’s trusted lieutenant, and Anton, looking grim and quiet as he keeps his focus strictly on me.

“Hold on,” I tell the paramedics. “I’m okay, I swear.”

“My God, Eileen, it’s bad enough you ruined my wedding day!” Ciara snaps, tears welling in her eyes. “Just go to the hospital and figure out what the hell is wrong with you.”

“Listen to the paramedics, honey,” my father adds.

I give Ciara a sad look. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“Of course you didn’t,” she scoffs, trying so hard not to cry.

“You can still have the wedding without me.”

“Nonsense,” Anton cuts in. “The wedding can wait. What matters most is that you’re okay and taken care of. Everything else can wait.”

“I’m so sorry,” I apologize again.

My stepsister rolls her eyes and turns away, while my father keeps trying to console her.

“Do you have any allergies or preexisting medical conditions we need to be aware of?” the first paramedic asks as they load me into the back of the ambulance.

“No. I mean, yes,” I say, lowering my voice. “I’m pregnant. Almost four months.”

I glance back at my family, but they didn’t hear me. Dad’s too busy comforting Ciara, the now-sobbing jilted bride. I catch a glimpse of Anton frowning, just before the second paramedic shuts the ambulance doors and heads to the driver’s seat.

“Okay, that’s good to know. I’ll add that to your chart,” the paramedic says while he hooks me up to a monitor and starts checking my vitals.

“What’s wrong with me?” I ask.

“Your vitals are okay. Your blood pressure is a little high, but that could be from your body’s reaction to passing out. They’ll need to do a full checkup and run blood work over at the hospital to figure it out definitively. It could’ve been nothing more than a fainting spell. It happens often in the first and even in the second trimester. Did you eat anything today?”

I shake my head slowly. “Too nervous.”

“There you have it. Most likely, you passed out due to low blood sugar.”