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Is there even such a thing as hammer practice?
Fuck me, I’m rambling inside my own miserable head.
“I told you I was coming!” Valentina says, giving me an affronted look. “In fact, I’m pretty sure you were the one who told me to come at this time.” She clears her throat and deepens her voice in what I’m sure she thinks is a hilariously accurate impression of me. “‘She has school tomorrow. Come after her classes.’ Word for fucking word!”
“Yeah, well, come back tomorrow,” I say, staring daggers at my cousin. “We’re busy.”
“I’m sorry if I interrupted anything,” she says with a roll of her eyes that tells me she isn’t sorry at all. “But you are the one who gave me this insane timeline to work with. If we’re going to pull off a wedding for the twenty-ninth then we need to get started now.”
I can see the effect Valentina’s words have on Deirdre, specifically the words “wedding” and “twenty-ninth.” Deirdre’s face is hidden from this angle, but her reaction is clear as anything even from here. Her back goes ramrod straight, muscles tightening along her spine.
If Valentina notices the tension, she doesn’t say anything. She just ploughs right on ahead. She’s kind of like Uncle Vinny that way. And maybe a little bit like me.
She strides all the way into the room, grabbing Deirdre’s hand and pulling her.
“Come on,” she said. “When I told Donata the deadline we’re working with she nearly shit a fucking brick.”
“Who’s Donata?” I snap. “Where are you going? When will you be home? Who’s escorting you?”
“Curse is coming with us. And Donata’s our favourite dress designer. God, Elio, I must have told you that a hundred times. Mamma and I go see her whenever we need new dresses. She made our gowns for the gala, including Deirdre’s. She… You know what? Never mind. I can see you tuning me out already.”
I’m not exactly doing it on purpose. It’s just that I’m now currently picturing Deirdre at a dressmaker’s shop, trying on long white dresses, looking like a bride, my bride, and it’s short circuiting my fucking brain.
“Ignore him,” Valentina says when Deirdre twists to throw me a questioning glance. “Curse has the car ready for us already. Giulia and Lucia will be there too. They cannot wait to meet you! Don’t worry, you’ll like them.”
Giulia and Lucia are alright. They’re Morelli’s twin girls, and close friends of Valentina’s. I guess it’s probably good for Deirdre to have a couple other female friends, especially since Willow’s getting packed off to Dublin from what I heard at Darragh’s.
Which I still haven’t told Deirdre, now that I think about it.
Now’s not the time, though, because my fiancée is being bodily pulled out the door by the much shorter but also much stronger Valentina.
I don’t expect her to look back at me as she goes.
But she does. Her eyes meet mine, a fleeting flash of blue, before she finally disappears.
“Have fun,” I call, though it’s really more of a weak grunt.
But I guess she hears it. Because she volleys her reply back at me, a loud response from somewhere down the hall.
“Stay in bed! And take a Tylenol!”
I want to chuckle at that, but even thinking about laughing makes my ribs feel like toothpicks somebody’s fixing to snap.
I grab my phone and watch Valentina and Deirdre move together through the house, put on coats and boots, and leave. When the front door closes, I call out once again, knowing Robbie is stationed in the hallway near the stairs.
“You heard my fiancée. Somebody get me a goddamn Tylenol.”
Chapter 22
Deirdre
Valentina is such a force of nature that I barely even know what’s happening until I’m sliding into the creamy leather backseat of a big, black SUV. I don’t think I’ve been in this one before. Just how many luxury vehicles does this family own?
Curse is in the driver’s seat and he starts driving as soon as we’re buckled in.
“Don’t be precious,” Valentina tells him, leaning forward in the backseat beside me. “We’re already late.”
“She’ll wait,” comes Curse’s flat reply.
