Cruel Sanctuary

Chapter 32

Rumbling with intense hunger, my stomach feels great relief when Emma hands me a plate crammed with mini hamburgers. In our designated marquee, tables are outstretched, covering the majority of land beneath the white fabric that is pinned into the fresh soil using metal hooks, a safety hazard to those who have consumed one too many of the various spirits scattered across the portable bar beside the giant speakers and slightly raised stage. 

Our chosen food for the wedding reception evening was to be put in a spread buffet. There is a range of posh and common party food. It is evident who chose what. For clarification, mini burgers and cornish pasties were my suggestion. The disgustingly slimey sushi in quaint containers were Owen's contribution. The rest we put down to Tina and my mother; they are food experts, after all. We had a cooked dinner on circular tables after the wedding photos had been taken but now is the night of party. 

The sun is gradually setting with just a mere few minutes of daylight left. I've decided to make the most of my gorgeous gown and change only when the sun has lowered. I feel this is something the rest of my bridesmaids have concluded to, also. It's such a wasteful shame to rip my attire from my appearance without properly utilising the opportunity to show it off! However, my veil hasn't made the cut. 

My next outfit that awaits me in the beautiful stately home is a satin sleeveless jumpsuit with brush train around my waist for added character. My shoes, however, will remain attached to my feet, even after their humiliating betrayal during my iconic waltz down the aisle. Already, multiple people have commentated on my performance. What's a wedding without a memorable klutz? 

Surprisingly, I find myself preparing for Owen's approach. I was expecting him to avoid me for as long as possible, just as I was planning. When he reaches me, he cracks up, "I'm shocked those heels are in tact," He sniggers and I roll my eyes, shoving my last minature burger into my mouth and Emma departs with my plate, "I'm shocked your ego is in tact," I retort, a smile tugging at my painted lips.

Waving me off, he shrugs, "I think it's almost time for our dance, if my watch is correct," then, he reaches out a suited arm, extending his smooth hand for me to take and so I oblige. Placing my dainty hand into his broader one, Owen spins me into his side, my dress flailing graciously as we step onto the allocated floor for frantic dancing. Paul Anka's 'Put Your Head On My Shoulder' begins to play.

Wide smiles cast over our faces as Owen brings our chests together, his hands clasping mine as we sway to the swung back beat to the music. Truthfully, Owen didn't consult me with any of the music choices; he used my wedding plans from when I was younger. Fortunately for him, my old plans were what I still wanted for my big day. I'm surprised that Owen chose to stick to this song since it is one that we both danced to with Jack and Jeremy during our annual summer barbecue in the Anstey's humongous back garden. Owen isn't one for souvenirs.

Our fellow party-goers crowd the circumference of our space, smiling whilst flashes follow our every twirling move around the dance floor. Owen leans in closer as I rest my head on his shoulder, "Does my music choice suffice?" He whispers like velvet and I lift my head up to face him with a grin, "Of course, you had my plans after all," I retort and he rolls his eyes, "Give me some credit," he jokes before spinning me out, extending his arm and I follow, then wrapping myself back into his chest, enjoying the flowing sensation of my skirt, "I'm your husband now, I'd be nice," he winks and I scoff, denying his threat of intimidation. 

Once again, my head finds itself resting on Owen's padded shoulder, "Did I tell you how beautiful you look?" I hear him question and I blush profusely, catching a slight glimpse of my mother's teary face as Tina wraps a supportive arm around her. I've been hating how much Lydia is attached to her hip, it fills me with rage as it is like a second party to our family; unnecessary and intruding. Knowing that my mum will be healthy soon enough, I shake off the temper that drips from my bare shoulders and focus my attention onto the suspiciously decorous Owen.