“It is done.” My eyes flew open at Brother Dime’s statement. The High Priest was already rolling up the decree, stowing it in a black leather sleeve. Without another word, he and Brother Dime descended the altar and left the sanctuary. That was it? We were done? It was over, and I was married? There’d been no fanfare. No ceremony. No kiss. Zavier was staring at the wall again, jaw clenched like a ten-minute wedding had been too long. My husband. I was his wife. And he couldn’t look at me.
