THE chandelier lights glistened so bright compared to the dim moonlight outside that Muse had to blink several times once they stepped inside the tent. Adrien's fingers were laced with hers. The touch should've been comforting. But Muse could only think of how Adrien had lied to her―lied about the reason they were getting married. Her palm felt like it was burning. She wanted to yank her hand away.

     They still had to present the image of a happy couple, though. There were too many people. Too much press. Stupid billionaire and stupid wealthy wedding guests and stupid paparazzi. So Muse leaned into Adrien's ear, like a lover about to whisper sweet nothings, and smiled.

     "I want an annulment, babycake," she said.

     She didn't know much about the process of marriages and divorces and annulments. But she'd heard of celebrity couples that had annulled their marriage after only days. She was positive her and Adrien would qualify. An annulment would be simpler―less paperwork, less fuss. Over and done with. Muse was so furious with Adrien that just looking at her made her blood burn. If they got their marriage annulled, and Muse never saw her again, she'd be fucking glad.

     It didn't matter that she was still in love with her. Adrien had lied.

     "An annulment?" Adrien said, as if she had never heard of one.

     "There's no way in hell I'm staying married to you," Muse replied through her teeth, still smiling lovingly.

     Ezra led them towards the platform near the edge of the tent, where a few of the guests had already begun to gather around. The waiters must have brought out the wedding cake while they were gone, because Muse's jaw slackened at the towering monstrosity of dessert before her.

     It had to be at least fifteen layers. Glittering sugar and lilac frosting and buttercream. With two little figures atop it.

     "Agnes and Phoebe made it," Adrien said, glancing at Muse's expression. "Phoebe carved out the little statues of us."

     Adrien's hand on hers tugged her towards the cake, until they were standing right before it. A large knife gleamed on the table, polished silver. Up close, Muse studied the figurines of her and Adrien: one bride dressed in a suit, with pale skin, shiny black hair and a slight smirk, and the other dressed in a wedding gown, with brown skin and curly golden-brown hair falling down her back. The colours against each other were stunning. Strands of lavender and violet flowers had been artfully strewn around the layers of lilac frosting, almost as if they were being grown from the confection. Swirls of pale gold glittered on the white fondant, only visible with the catching of the light. The cake looked less like it had come from a bakery, and more like Phoebe and Agnes had happened upon it in a forest made by fairies.

     "Do you like it?" said Phoebe from the other side of the table, her hands clasped together. Agnes had her arm around her. Both their expressions contained true worry.

     "Are you kidding?" said Muse, in awe. "It's too beautiful, I don't even want to eat it, let alone cut it. It's incredible."

     "Thank you," Adrien added. "I know how long it took. I could've just ordered from somewhere."

     "Nonsense!" Phoebe wrung her hands. "It was an honour to make a cake for our baby princess dollface."

     Adrien's cheeks tinged with a slight red. Muse hated that she found that stupid blush cute. It made her feel especially homicidal. Her grip on Adrien's hand got tighter. 

     Ezra cleared his throat, and scoured the table for a spoon and glass. Lifting them high into the air, he clinked several times until he had caught the attention of the entire reception. The laughter and chatter died, the music fading into a quieter chorus.

     "Time for the lovebirds to cut the cake!" he said, and a few people clapped. Grey's enthusiasm was a little too strong. He looked entirely too delighted with himself.

      Muse should have been thankful to Grey that he had let slip the truth about the blackmail and the wedding. But all she felt was a cold, stomach-turning disgust when she looked at him. Nothing about his appearance, from his slicked-back hair and grinning mouth to his merry black eyes, seemed cunning or dark.

      "They say most doctors are psychopaths. I wish Grey had gone to med school," Sherry had said.

       She was right. Grey was handsome, and charming. He was smiling, and laughing at Grey Junior now, tickling beneath his little chin. He looked like any other father. But beneath that facade, deep in those oil-black eyes, there was absolutely nothing. No hint of real emotion. As if he didn't feel things the way a normal person did. As if he didn't feel anything at all.

     As if he felt Muse studying him, Grey looked up. His eyes caught hers. His smile shifted a little, turning more cheerful. Then he winked.

     "Muse," said Ezra, out of the corner of his mouth. "I'm going to hand you the knife now. Please try not to stab Adrien."

     Muse didn't give any reaction when Ezra handed her the knife. It was heavier than she'd expected. For a moment, she felt herself beginning to panic, wondering where to start cutting the cake.

     "Go from the bottom," Adrien said softly. They had let go of each other's hands, and Adrien had her arm around Muse now, her fingertips gently caressing the top of Muse's shoulder. 

     Muse raised the knife, carefully lining the tip into the first tier of the cake. The moment she sliced inward, the crowd cheered. 

     "Smash it!" Grey yelled. A few more of the guests applauded louder, in agreement.

     Muse was only confused for a second, until she remembered the tradition of the groom smashing cake into the wife's face. She didn't look back at Adrien. She had no fear whatsoever that Adrien would ever attempt that. And, proving her right, Adrien remained in place, her arm still around her, fingertips tracing the outline of her collarbone.

     "Sorry," Adrien called out, in that infuriatingly attractive deep voice. "Not today."

     Muse continued cutting into the cake, slicing the pieces into even squares and placing them onto plates. She made it to three before she realized Grey had pushed his way to the front of the crowd, standing on the opposite side of the table from them. He seemed to almost be manhandling Sherry, holding her in place with a white-knuckled grip. The baby cooed softly, strapped against her chest.

     "Let me show you how it's done," he said, loud enough for the crowd to hear. 

     And he reached over the table of fruit and pastries and chocolate, grabbed a fistful of wedding cake, and smashed it into Sherry's face.

     "Jesus Christ," Adrien muttered, so low only Muse could hear. The wedding guests applauded, including Mr. and Mrs. Pescuzzi, as Sherry blinked. Her eyelashes were coated in frosting.

     Muse stared in horror at her. Sherry didn't seem upset, only resigned to her fate.

     Their eyes locked, and Muse almost swore she could read Sherry's mind. As if she were saying, I told you. 

     Daintily, Sherry wiped cake off her face. Buttercream dripped from her chin. Muse grabbed a stack of napkins off the table and reached over to give them to her.

     She fucking hated Grey right then, more than she had ever hated anyone else in her life.

     "Keep cutting the cake," Ezra said quietly. "Cut around that mess, though."

     Muse was tempted to cut into Grey Hansen. Instead, she clenched her jaw and sliced another piece. 

     "Ezra, take Grey Junior." Adrien nodded to Agnes. There was steel in her voice, leaving no room for argument. "And can you take Sherry to the bathroom, help her clean up?"

      Muse understood that message clearly: Give Sherry a break from the baby, and get her the fuck away from Grey.

     Grey's eyes flickered, as if he understood, too, but he only patted Sherry's shoulder as Ezra unclipped Grey Junior from the strap and Agnes took her under her wing. A few of the guests were still laughing.

     "All in good humour," he said cheerfully.

     "I'm going to good humour this knife up his ass," Muse whispered to Adrien, and Adrien chuckled in her ear.

     Once she had finished cutting the first and second tier of the cake, leaving the middle as stability for the top layers, she passed the knife to Adrien and joined Phoebe by the side.

     "Are those figurines edible?" she asked.

     "Yes, dear." Phoebe touched her shoulder, almost petting her. "They're made of fondant and sugar. They'll last forever if you preserve them, though."

     Ezra now had the baby strapped to him. From across the table, he gave her a slight look. She ignored him.

     Once the pieces of cake had been passed out on plates to the wedding guests, the knife set down, Muse checked the time. It was almost five in the morning. Phoebe had gone in search of Agnes, and the party had begun to die down. A few people had already thrown up, drunk from the endless platters of drinks that had been served all night, and the waiters were cleaning. Muse still felt tipsy. The sun would begin to rise soon.

    For the first time, it occurred to her that she would be sleeping with Adrien in their shared bridal suite.

     "I'm going to start sending everyone back home," Adrien said. "I'll look into annulling the wedding tomorrow morning."

     "Thank you, baby," Muse said. The word stung her mouth like acid.

     "You can head back now. I'll have someone escort you to the room." Adrien pushed a hand through her hair. Her dark eyes betrayed no emotion. "You can have the bed. I'll take the bathtub."

     "The bathtub?"

     "It's massive, don't worry," Adrien said wryly. "It is a wedding suite, after all."

     "Oh," Muse said. She was almost too tired to understand, then it clicked. "Oh."     

     "This shouldn't take long," Adrien promised, and kissed the top of her head. A few of the guests still watched them. Mrs. Pescuzzi stared from one of the tables, a half-eaten slice of lilac wedding cake in front of her, and Grey lingered just out of earshot, his black eyes hungry like a vulture's. "See you soon, angel."

      "See you soon, princess."

***

My girlfriend used to eat three pounds of goldfish every week as a child.

From the moon and back,
Sarai