The Wedding Pact Box Set - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,328

arches appeared to have been spray-painted a metallic gold.

The mural on the ceiling was composed of multiple scenes of a naked angel bearing a remarkable resemblance to Tito, although Noah was certain the artist had over-exaggerated the man’s penile girth and length. Angelica was there too, with wings this time, and there were multiple images of her and Tito in the throes of passion. One particularly memorable composition showed the two fornicating on a bench in a garden, with Tito thrusting from behind wearing a shit-eating grin.

Holy hell. Some things couldn’t be unseen.

Noah took several hesitant steps down the aisle, telling himself that Libby would probably love it. He suspected she was the only person on the planet who would.

It wasn’t until he stepped onto the small platform that he realized the back row of folding chairs was occupied by six men, most of whom appeared to have been plucked from a holding pen at the police station. One man wore a grungy knit cap and slurped from a can of Campbell’s soup, while another leaned his head against the wall, releasing a small snore.

“We’re all ready,” Angelica singsonged as she entered the chapel through the double doors, her hands pressed together at her breasts as if in prayer. “Your beautiful bride is ready. Shall we begin?”

He nodded, finding it difficult to push out a yes. His chest was so tight with nerves he could hardly breathe. He noticed a clock on the wall over the entrance, the hands in the shape of angel wings. 11:49. At least Libby hadn’t taken off yet.

Angelica glided over to a stereo system in the corner and pressed a button. Music poured into the room and the double doors swung open as if by magic.

Libby filled the doorway, Noah’s bouquet in her hands, looking more beautiful than he’d ever seen her. Their eyes locked and everything else fell away. However strange and unconventional this was, it was right. It was them.

The first lines of the song “Teen Angel” played on the speakers overhead—the original recording from the 1950s, from the sound of it.

“Oops, wrong song,” Angelica murmured, pressing a button that stopped the music. “That was from the last couple.”

Libby’s eyes widened and she held back a giggle.

God, he loved her.

Tinny piano music filled the room, reminding Noah of something from the 1980s. Then he realized it was something from the 1980s—his mother had listened to this song over and over when he was a kid. “Angel Eyes”. Was it destiny that they played his mother’s favorite song?

Angelica gave Libby an exasperated look. “Well, what are you waiting for? Tito’s about to start singing.”

Sure enough, Tito’s voice floated around them, but there was still no sign of Tito. “Girl, you’re looking fine tonight, and every guy has got you in his sight.”

Noah had no idea where Tito could be, but he didn’t care. Libby was walking toward him with a soft smile on her lips. But then she stopped halfway down the short aisle, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly agape.

His heart skipped a beat. Had she changed her mind?

Sensing movement behind him, he looked over his shoulder. “Oh. My. God.”

Now he dearly regretted paying for the top-of-the-line service. And to his horror, he now realized why Tito had been wearing a robe.

A hole had opened in the arched ceiling and a pair of bare, hairy legs dangled from the opening.

Tito continued to sing, putting emotion into his words as he belted out the rest of the stanza.

Noah considered grabbing Libby and running the hell out of there, but his feet were frozen as the horror continued to unfold—the lower part of Tito’s abdomen was now visible, including his fabric-draped groin.

Libby burst into hysterical laughter.

Angelica planted her hands on her hips and gave Libby a dirty look. “Shh!”

Libby covered her mouth and gave up all pretense of walking gracefully down the aisle, instead rushing over to Noah as he stepped off the platform to meet her. She grabbed his arm and whispered, “What in the hell is happening?”

“I have no fucking idea.” His gaze had found its way back to the still-emerging man. Tito’s bare chest was now visible, as was the small golden harp he held in his hands. He dropped another couple feet, then remained in place as his feet began to kick the air.

“I told you no demonic angels, Noah,” Libby whispered.

His stomach clenched and he turned to apologize, but her grin spread from ear to ear.

“Did you request this?”

“You