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“Screw that,” Lexi snaps. “The only question that matters is… are you happy? Don’t waste time worrying about them. They’ve put us through too much.”
I walk around the coffee table and sit next to my sister. She stiffens when I put my arm around her, but then she lets me pull her into a hug. “It’s okay,” I whisper. “You don’t have to be so tough all the time.”
She turns and presses her face against my chest. For a moment, I think she’s going to burst into tears, but then she sits up and shakes her head. “What are you going to say to Dad? About his nighttime mafia deal?”
“I don’t even know if that’s what it was,” I murmur, wishing she’d let some of the pain go and let me carry it for her.
“I knew about the mafia thing,” Lexi mutters after a pause.
I gasp, leaning back. She looks at me miserably.
“You knew?”
“I found Dad with a couple of his friends when I was a kid. I demanded to know what was going on. He tried to tell me all these lies.” The sort you probably would’ve fallen for is her unspoken follow-up. “But I made him tell me the truth. I wanted to tell you, kid. I just?—”
“Stop calling me kid,” I snap. “All the times Mom and Dad argued, all the times we hid upstairs, listening to them yelling, I thought you had my back. I thought you’d never lie to me.”
“I didn’t lie. It just never came up.”
“Don’t give me that, Lexi. We both know it’s bullshit.”
“Hey, hey,” Dad says, walking into the living room, his hands raised. He’s wearing his construction gear. I didn’t hear him come in. “What’s up with you two?”
“Nothing,” I snap. “We’re just talking about your second life as a mafia hitman!”
Dad gapes at me as I storm out of the room.
I’m acting like a kid but screw it. The idea of Lexi lying to me—even to protect me, which is probably her reason—is just nuts. It refuses to fit into my head. Plus, there’s the embarrassment of how I handled that situation. Snapping at Dad, storming to my room, and now I’m locking myself up in here and refusing to talk to them.
It’s all so humiliating. I should handle this like a grownup, like the mature one, as Luca called me. I told him life could always be worse, but now, as I try to compare my situation to historical scenarios, I can see how life is worse, but I can’t feel it. I can’t make myself live in that other reality.
Dad knocks on my door several times, but I ignore him. I compose a bunch of messages to Luca, telling him I won’t make it tonight. Yet when I think about letting him down, I can’t do it. I really want to see him. I don’t want to let my family drama ruin the meeting with his family, even if the meeting causes nerves to swirl through me. Apart from anything else, it’s better than sitting around here feeling sorry for myself.
Am I still good to send the car for seven, Ruby?
I type out, No. Then I stare at the message, biting my lip. I quickly delete it, then type, Yes, what should I wear?
Whatever you want. You’ll look beautiful no matter what.
My chest heats up, and my cheeks warm at the same time. A silly smile spreads across my face.
Okay, but I mean, is it formal? Casual? I don’t want to show up in jeans and a hoodie if everybody will be wearing tuxes and dresses!
Smart casual, I’d say. I’ll be wearing a shirt and trousers. The ladies will probably be wearing dresses.
Nerves shiver through me again. The ladies undoubtedly include Scarlet. Part of me knows I should tell Luca the situation before I walk in, but a small, cowardly voice whispers that maybe she won’t remember. Perhaps, after everything that’s happened to her since then, high school seems like a thousand years ago. Maybe she isn’t holding a grudge.
Okay, I’ll find something. I need to get moving. I haven’t done my hair and makeup yet, either.
You’re talking like it’s your wedding day. Just relax, Ruby. Just breathe…
Three dots appear, and then he sends a follow-up message. But if this were our wedding day, you’d have the best stylists anyway, so maybe that comparison doesn’t make sense. See you soon. I’ll let you know when the car is on the way.
My heart starts to pound super hard. I’m unsure if he realizes it, but he just said our wedding day. Maybe it was a typo, but as I stare at the message, I can’t help but imagine walking down the aisle, Luca standing at the altar in a dashing suit, his hair glistening and slicked back as he turns to me with a smile of pure love.
