Alec

I give Levin until 1:45 p.m. sharp to get ready, not wanting her to have too much time to ponder her next move.

After all, I had met Eric at his loft citing business reasons, but he had started to wise up that this was not business, but personal.

The fight in him was strong, but I was still stronger. He tried to scream as I tightened the belt around his neck. I picture him hanging, legs dangling in his closet, but moments before, I’d forced him to write a suicide note to his family, such a sweet gesture if you ask me.

He apologized for his affair, for tearing up a family, and for being gay.

Eric refused to write it until I showed him the gun Mark’s wife had provided me. It was fitting that the gun belonged to Mark, his lover. Her intentions matched mine, but a gun was too risky, bullet casings too traceable. Though I thought about having it look like Mark had killed him, there were too many complications.

Levin needs to calm down, so I slip a couple of Xanax in a glass of white wine and bring it to her. The white wine won’t stain her dress if she spills. By the way her hands shake, these little pills will be a welcome relief.

If she’s comatose, she’ll be less likely to cause a scene.

Her vows were a concern. I scratch my chin, not in the mood to kill her on our special day. I don’t want our wedding to end with my beloved departing and all of this having been for nothing.

I prayed she did not make the same mistake Eric had. When he had put the pen to the paper and started writing, he had tried to write in the middle of the note that this wasn’t a suicide. I had ripped it up and made him start again.

It had fueled my anger even more, and I had no problem yanking his head back and tightening the belt notch by notch. It was a quick death, eyes bulging out of his head, body hanging limp. He was half-naked, boxer briefs on, his apartment spotless except for his lifeless body.

I knock on the door with a glass of wine in hand.

I hear rustling and then footsteps as she walks across the room. “Are you ready?”

Her face looks a hundred times better, the makeup covering the unsettling parts. Thank God. No one wants to look at ugly marks on a pretty face.

“Yes.”

“Vows written?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Okay, you can come out now.” I step back and let her exit the room.

Even with a split lip and a bruised cheek, she looks stunning. She didn't need a hair stylist or a makeup artist. She managed fine on her own. Her hair was pulled back into a chignon, her eyes made up with a touch of eyeshadow and mascara, and her eyes were lined with charcoal eyeliner.

She kept her lips fairly neutral with light lipstick and some gloss.

I smile at her, a peace offering.

“Aren’t you going to drink the wine?” I feign hurt. “Aren’t most brides tipsy on their wedding day?”

She’s considering the wine, probably wondering if I drugged it. “I don’t want to smudge my lipstick.” She’s contrite as she takes a small sip.

My phone buzzes, and I reach into my pocket to answer it. I expect a call from George. The gate needs to be opened outside of the house since they have passed the guard entrance.

I press the code on my phone, then give Levin a warning look. “Don’t disappoint me today. You look stunning. But you don’t want to look stunning dead.”

She is taken aback, and I grab her hand.

“The priest is here. It’s time.” I envelop her in my arms and kiss her pursed lips. I hold her hand, my grip firm.

A minute later, the doorbell rings, and I head that way unlatching the lock.

“Hello, George,” I say as I open the double doors. “And Father Roberts. Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

Father Roberts beams. “All my pleasure. I hear an elopement is in the cards today. What a beautiful view you have up here.”

He lowers his voice. “I normally don’t do weddings outside the church. George provided our parish with a very generous donation, and our congregation thanks you.”

“I was so glad my friend let us borrow it for the weekend.” I lead them into the house. “Please meet my lovely bride, Levin.”

“Nice to meet you.” Father Roberts shakes her hand, his eyes kind and wrinkled. “My, you look like you just came out of a magazine.”

She thanks him saying nothing more.

As I introduce Levin to George, the color drains from her face.

I squeeze her hand, a warning to behave.