The Penalty Box - Teagan Kade Page 0,36

at the altar. We opted for a small venue given we only invited close family and friends, but it’s beautiful and open, a large stained-glass window behind me casting shards of rainbow light across those gathered.

Alissa’s busy to the right, speaking to the celebrant. She’s been incredible, organizing and flitting around town like a madwoman to put this together. We owe her big time.

Stone’s here in the front row, as is my mother. She looks happier than I’ve seen her in years.

I’ve got Carrie as my bridesmaid. Phoenix and Peyton are on the other side. I’m always surprised how good the King boys look in suits. They have their hands clasped in front of themselves trying to remain still and serious while we wait for Nolan. We didn’t want to do the traditional walk down the aisle, happy instead to gather together at the altar.

“You can loosen up,” I tell the boys.

Peyton exhales. “Thank God. I was starting to turn into a statue there.”

I check my watch. Nolan’s five minutes late. He’s normally extremely punctual. It’s unlike him.

Carrie places a reassuring hand on my shoulder, bare given the style of dress Erin helped me pick out. I didn’t want a bulbous ballgown with a hundred yards of lace. I went simple and elegant, the sight enough to send my mother into a ball of tears. Looking at myself in the mirror, even I had to admit that, hell, there was an actual woman staring back at me with curves and sexy stuff going on. It was…weird. Nice, but weird all the same.

“He’ll be here,” Carrie whispers. “Don’t worry.”

Another five minutes and I’m starting to sweat. Doubt starts to seep in, even with all my best efforts to keep it at bay.

What if he was in a car accident?

Does he know the address?

Maybe he’s having second thoughts?

Maybe I’m going to be abandoned at the altar.

I swallow and realize my mouth is sandpaper dry.

Peyton and Phoenix are trying to lighten the mood, but the tension’s becoming palpable.

Another ten minutes and that doubt starts to turn to anger.

He’s realized the enormity of what we’re doing and he doesn’t have the courage to face me, to tell me, I think to myself.

I relay this to Peyton and Phoenix quietly, almost repeating my thoughts word for word, but they huddle in and speak low.

“He wouldn’t do that,” says Peyton.

“We know him,” adds Phoenix, “better than anyone. Peyton’s right. Something’s up.”

Something is up all right—I’m being left here and it’s shaping up to be the most embarrassing moment of my life. Still, I try to find the logic in their words and nod along.

Then ten minutes pass.

“We’ll go look for him,” says Phoenix, tapping Peyton in the side with his elbow. “We’ll call as soon as we know anything.”

“Thank you,” I say, but even those simple words are hard to get out.

I see Alissa speaking to the brothers on the way out of the church. They leave and she rushes over to me, looks back to the guests. Even her composure is starting to slip. “Let’s get you into the side room while we wait.”

Carrie joins to usher me away, Alissa saying to the guests, “We’re just going to take a half-hour break, everyone. Canapes and champagne outside.”

I’m thankful to be in the side room away from everyone. Alissa looks to Carrie. I’ll give you two some privacy, let you know as soon as we have word. She leaves, and Carrie helps me into a chair, squatting to face me. “It’s going to be okay, babe. I promise.”

“You can’t promise that,” I tell her.

“Watch me, and if he does stand you up—” she makes a fist, shaking it “—so help me god I will rearrange his internal organs.”

I can’t help laughing. Maybe it’s the nerves. I don’t know. “You couldn’t hurt a fly, let alone a King.”

She acts shocked. “Girl, you seen me on the court? Do I look like a pacifist out there?”

“I suppose you are leading the team in personal fouls.”

She nods proudly. “Damn straight, though I think Coach would prefer otherwise.”

Silence falls and every second seems drawn out and painful.

I just want to know what’s going on.

That’s it. Is it too much to ask?

“You’re marrying a King,” Christy tells me, back in mind-reader mode.

“It was never going to be simple.”

Truer words were never spoken.

An hour later, with no sign of Nolan, no word on where he could be, we’re forced to send the guests home.

I’m tired, exhausted in more ways than one. I