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I pretend I don’t want to die.
Behind closed doors though, I’m the same old broken Gemma.
After I apply my makeup, smoky eyes and bold red lips, and curl my dark hair so it falls in large spirals down my back, I slide into my dress. It’s a tight red satin number with a low cut v-neck that shows off my cleavage and long sleeves. It’s sultry and chic. I slip my feet into a classic black pair of Louboutins and grab a chic gold clutch to pair with the outfit.
Gian and my father are waiting downstairs. Gian, with pursed lips, as always. Our interactions are short and unenthusiastic. He gives me a courtesy nod and heads for the door.
He has Andrew driving us all in one of the Escalades. My father takes the front seat, leaving Gian and I in the back while he types away furiously on his iPhone.
Andrew follows me everywhere. He doesn’t talk, just looks at me sheepishly. He knew what I was doing in that hotel room, he was there when Gian and Gio broke us up. He looks shameful when he sees me, I don’t know if it’s guilt for destroying my weekend or secondhand shame from the position I was caught in. Either way, I’m not mad that he feels bad.
I kind of want him to feel bad.
I want them all to feel bad.
I want everyone to suffer alongside me.
Burn in hell, La Famiglia, Gemma is seeking revenge.
I straighten my dress as we exit the car and head into my cousin’s wedding reception. Ariella, my aunt’s youngest daughter is twenty-two and marrying a mafioso enforcer for another crew.
She looks fucking gorgeous and angelic in her white lace wedding gown with her golden hair tumbling down her shoulders.
Gian and my father both greet her with a kiss to each cheek.
“Gemma. “ She coos when she gets to me. “I missed you, cugina.”
“Same.” I pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, careful not to get red lipstick on her.
“You look hot.” She smiles, looking over my red dress. Ariella and I were close growing up, though not as close as Adelina and I. Addy and I were practically sisters, but Ariella didn’t follow too far behind. She gives me a soft smile and I continue on as more people enter and want to greet her.
She’s a beautiful bride.
For a second I wonder what I would look like sheathed in white like that. Would I have a huge smile plastered on my face? Would it be genuine?
Most of all, who would meet me at the end of the aisle.
My mind flashes images of Liam. His sinful smile, the tattoos covering his body, the image of him tangled in the sheets smiling up at me that last morning we were together.
I shake the thought.
The key to not breaking down is creating walls in your head.
I’ve separated every aspect of my life into little sections and I behave the desired way for each one. In the back of my mind, as far back as it goes, is Liam’s section. Filled with memories of all our moments together, he sits waiting for me. When it’s late and dark and everyone around me is gone or asleep, I let the highlight reel run. When I’m all cried out, I finally fall asleep.
His memories are stored for that time, and that time alone.
Gian sits me down at our table, hovering over me like I might run.
He’s been extra attentive the past week. He hovers and tracks me. He sleeps in his old room at the house instead of in his apartment.
I don’t say anything to him though, I won’t give him the pleasure. Gian is cold and calculating and he waits for you to break, to get riled up, and then he topples you with soft spoken words.
Fighting with him is pointless, and he derives pleasure from it.
Instead, I play his game. I’m silent and obedient, just like he wants. However, I know he’ll break, they all will. They know this isn’t me, that it’s all an act and eventually they’ll say something, anything to get the old Gemma back.
I want them to feel like they broke me.
