Love Comes Last

2. Medicine

Song: Kiss Me- Ed Sheeran

Elijah's arm rests comfortably around my shoulders as I lean into him for yet another picture as we stand by our overly-extravagant, 5-tier, wedding, cake. I'v had to stop myself from rolling my eyes several times in fear that they will get stuck in the back of my head from doing it so much in one day.

When it's finally time for the bride and groom's first dance, Elijah guides me to the dance floor, and Kiss Me by Ed Sheeran begins to play.

His brows knit together as he stares down to me. "Why did you pick this song for our first dance?" He asks, whispering as we begin to sway to the melody.

My face reddens as I begin to feel silly for selecting something so romantic. "I don't know," I mumble, looking down. "I think it's just something that I would have wanted to play for my real wedding."

When he doesn't respond, I glance back up, and see that he is gazing down at me with a cold expression. "I don't like this either, you know?" He says, still speaking in a low voice.

As the reality of the situation finally hits me, I feel tears begin to spring into my eyes. When he notices, his jaw tightens, and I feel him pull me into his shoulder to hid my face. "Stop crying," he murmurs into my ear. "People are going to think something is wrong."

I let out a quiet, bitter, laugh. "No they won't. They're just going to think that I'm crying tears of joy because I'm married to such a wonderful man."

I hear him scoff angrily. "This is off to a great start already."

We finish out the song in silence, and just before Elijah leaves the dance floor so that I can dance with my father, he catches me off guard with a tender kiss.

"You're a really good actor," I murmur in an annoyed tone as he pulls away.

He winks, smirking. "Don't get use to it."

My father comes up to me. "Hey, Honey," he says grinning.

I return his enthusiasm, trying my best to seem happy. "Hey, Daddy. Ready to dance?"

"I sure am," he says, grabbing my hand.

We begin to sway to the music that I selected for our father-daughter dance, and I wrap my arms around his neck. "Did everything look OK?" I ask, worriedly. My voice lowers. "Did it look real enough?"

He grins, beaming. "It looked absolutely perfect, Sweetie."

I laugh. "Thanks, Daddy."

"I can't tell you how proud I am of you for doing what is right," he replies, shaking his head.

I smile up at him, struggling to keep my composure. Why is this what is right if it feels so horribly, terribly, wrong? "I'm really happy, too, Dad. I can't wait to see where this takes us," I respond, trying to be optimistic.

The reception continues, dragging on, and eventually, I begin to fake that I ate too much cake and am getting a stomach ache.

"Do I need to run to the store and get you some medicine?" My mother asks me, worriedly.

I shake my head. "No, no no, Mom. I really feel like I just need to lay down and rest," I reply, quickly.

"I'll go call the limo driver around, Baby," Elijah says, rubbing the small of my back. I almost cringe as he calls me 'baby,' but I refrain from it, knowing that people are watching.

I walk around and say my goodbyes, thanking everyone for coming, and then I rush to the front. Elijah is leaned against the limo waiting for me when I make it outside. He opens the door for me, again. I thank him and then hop in.

When we are both buckled in, he glances over to me. "Do we need to stop and pick something up to make you feel better before we get home?" He asks.

I shake my head. "No, I'm alright."

He begins to insist. "I really don't mind. I'll run in and get it. I can tell the driver where to go if you know a specific place. There's this one store that sells-"

I cut him off, feeling guilty. "Eli, I'm not sick," I say, quickly. When he looks at me confused, I explain. "I couldn't hold up the act anymore. I was trying, but all I want to do is go home and sleep."

His expression flickers from puzzled to angry in an instant. "You faked sick to leave our wedding?" He isn't shouting, but his tone definitely has an edge to it.

I nod. "Yes, I faked sick to leave our fake wedding. I couldn't do it. I'm sorry. I'm not as good at pretending as you are."

His eyes stare into mine as he studies me. I can tell that he is upset. "Did you ever consider that not all of it was an act for me?"

My mouth falls open at his words as I try to search for my own to reply with. "O-Oh," I stutter. I glance down into my lap, awkwardly. "I didn't know, Eli."

He grunts. "Whatever."

Most of the car ride home is silent. As we near the house, guilt still rests in the pit of my stomach. Could Eli really have even the slightest feelings for me? We have been pushed to date each other for three years, but most of the evenings were spent quietly eating, or sitting beside each other awkwardly in the movie theater.

"I'm really sorry," I say, barely above a whisper, still staring out of my tinted window at the passing trees and suburban houses.

A moment passes, and then he replies. "For what?"

I glance over to him, but he doesn't look my way. "For never trying to talk to you much. For faking sick and leaving the wedding early. For upsetting you a second ago. I didn't know that you felt that way. You could have just told me."

Finally, he looks over to me, but when he does, the cold expression has returned to his eyes. "Just shut up, Ellie," he says in a harsh tone, using the name he always called me. I flinch a little, embarrassed. "When we get home, leave me alone. I have work to do."

When tears begin to well up in my eyes this time, I let them fall. I look away, frantically wiping my cheeks right after seeing Eli roll his eyes at me. My bottom lip trembles, and I hold back a sob. This is my wedding day, yet I am setting in the back of a vehicle with a man that I barely know.

Is this how the rest of my life is going to go?