COLD FEET
Temperance Brennan paused just inside the doorway to the sanctuary as the strains of the wedding march began. Every face in the room was turned her way, and her stomach began to tremble. What would Ange call it? Butterflies in the stomach. She wondered inanely what the origins of the saying were. I'll google it later, she decided, dragging her attention back to the situation at hand. People were starting to fidget and she reminded herself that they were waiting for her to begin. Taking a deep breath, she took the first tentative, measured step, then forced herself to take another. Focusing her gaze on the altar at the front, which seemed to be miles away, she continued, having no trouble keeping the pace slow. In fact, she found she had to keep reminding herself to take another step when she really wanted to turn and run.
People were smiling and murmuring as she passed, whispering about how lovely she looked, what a lucky woman she was. Brennan wondered. Was she lucky? I mean, sure, he's handsome, confident, a strong alpha male who would make a good partner to any woman fortunate enough to catch his attention. Her stomach trembled again. But marry him? She'd never thought she'd marry anyone. She'd seen too many miserable couples struggling to maintain their marriages, had seen the heartbreak and pain caused by their failures. Her steps faltered and her gaze fell on Angela.
Her friend was smiling at her from her position to the left of the altar. Brennan was startled to find that she was already halfway there. Her eyes pleaded and Angela's smile faded away as she realized the internal struggle taking place inside her friend. 'You love him,' Angela mouthed silently. At that Brennan looked to the man standing at the altar. His warm brown eyes beckoned and his smile drew her forward. Yes, she loved him, but not enough, she feared. There was always a corner of her heart, a little piece that she had locked away when she agreed to marry him, that yearned for another strong alpha male with warm brown eyes. He had found something else to do instead of witnessing the most amazing event of her life. She wondered what he was doing, if he was thinking about her. Don't be silly, Brennan, she scolded herself. He obviously doesn't care. If he did, he would have stopped this. Her heart squeezed as she admitted how badly she had wanted him to.
And now she had finally arrived and stood next to her groom. His smile was huge and she tried to smile back, failing miserably. The priest began, oblivious to the bride's internal struggle. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God and these witnesses, to join this man and this woman in the bonds of holy matrimony…"
"I object," she said, the words slipping out of their own accord. The priest stopped, confused, his eyes darting from her to the groom and back again.
"I haven't come to that part," the priest murmured, smiling a little, wondering if this was some kind of joke. The bride had tears in her eyes and the groom's smile had fled as he stared at her with his mouth open.
Turning to face Sully, she struggled to control the sobs that were crawling up her throat. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, her heart breaking at the look on his face. "I-I can't marry you," she finished. Dropping her bouquet, she picked up her skirts and ran back down the aisle. Angela grabbed Sully's arm as he moved to go after her.
"Wait, let me. Just—stall, okay? I'll go talk to her." He looked at her gratefully. If anyone could talk some sense into Tempe, it would be Angela.