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“Not the wisest question right now.” She didn’t realize just how unwise, considering I’d all but had it with women. Irish, Italian, at this point I didn’t fucking care. They were all driving me insane. Why did people actually seek out mistresses? One woman was frustrating enough, let alone another I cared nothing at all for.
Sighing, I tried to pay attention to her. I expected her to flip out again, but instead she just lay there, staring at me with those big blue doe eyes of hers, all weak and pitiful. It made me wonder what Calliope would say or do if she saw her.
“If you didn’t need me for whatever plan you’re coming up with, you would have married Klarissa. You want too badly to win, so you’d rather stick to your plan and have her killed…so what about me? What happens when I’m not useful to your plan? What happens if you need some other woman for your gameplan? Will I end up dying?” I nearly fell off my chair.
She was right. One hundred percent right. Could she feel it? The axe hanging over neck ready to take her head next? Calliope liked knives; that very well could be how she killed her.
“I heard your uncle Neal…he killed his wife so—”
I cut her off explaining the story of my uncle Neal and his former wife. But even still, she looked at me like she didn’t believe me. She was scared. Her fear, her lack of resolve and confidence disgusted me. Even worse, she made it harder for me to ignore Calliope. I couldn’t help but compare them and in every way, she was lacking. Ivy was smarter than we had given her credit for, which was why she could feel the truth but still wanted to hope for something different. I’d never have this conversation with Calliope. She’d never doubt herself beside me. In Calliope’s mind us being together was as much as divinely ordained. Even if I woke up tomorrow and said I didn’t want her, she’d try to beat me half to death and then chain me up until I saw it her way. There was no room for doubt or stupid conversations like this one. Calliope was very territorial, but so was I, and I’d most likely do everything she did if the roles were reversed. Even with that, there was no room for doubt or stupid conversations like this one.
“Fine, but—”
“No buts.” Fucking Christ, do I have to get on my knees and praise her? Did she not know the fucking day I just had? I did not have time or energy to do this shit. Sighing, I gave her what she wanted. “I married you. I chose you. I knew that meant till the day I die. I told Klarissa the first day she appeared in front of me that I was never going to marry her. That I would never love her. She dared to hope that somehow I’d see the light and fall. However, I am a man of my word. Always have been.”
I’d never been a man of my word. I was the son of two fucking mafia families; how the fuck could I be a man of my word? I was a man of my threats, but never my word.
“A gangster with sophistication and morals,” she repeated, and I nearly rolled my eyes. She had the ability to ruin the little humor I put into our conversation.
“If I knew you would keep repeating that, I would have tried to make it catchier.” I yawned, hoping she would get the message and shut the fuck up so we could sleep.
But context clues did not seem to be her strong suit.
She snickered. “What is your word to me?”
She wasn’t serious. How much reassurance did she bloody need? Remember what this is for, Ethan. The sooner you get through this the sooner…the sooner I fix my relationship.
Rising from the chair, I walked over to her side of the bed. She stared up at me and I reached down and lifted her up, lying down on my back with her resting on top of my chest. Once again It felt like I was pimping myself out, but I’d come too far now to back down over something like this.
Something romantic…Something romantic? What the fuck was romantic to her? I glanced down and saw the ring.
“When I put that ring on your finger, I believe my exact words were, ‘I bind my life to yours, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. It is a symbol of my eternal love, my everlasting friendship, and the promise of all my tomorrows. An outward reminder of our inner unity. I forsake all others, I chose you, until death do us part’.” Repeating the vows was the best I could do right now.
She held her hand up for us both to look at. “It doesn’t count if there is a lie in it.”
“What lie?” Go to sleep, goddamnit. What I’d do for one of Calliope’s poisons right now.
“When you say my eternal love and my everlasting friendship…when did you fall in love with me? And when did we become friends?”
Of all the women in the world. Sighing, I closed my eyes, over this whole shit now.
“Ivy, no one is taking your spot at my side.” Because you never had a place. “I am not abandoning you.” Because I never attained you…you’re a prison loan. “So for the love of God, shut up and let me sleep.”
I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep, knowing that was the only way to get her to shut up for now. I was going to have to figure out a way to make her feel like she was in control without actually giving her control. Her instincts were telling her not to trust me. Luckily she didn’t listen to them, but I didn’t want to repeat these conversations again.
She’s staring. I could feel her gaze on me.
Sex? Maybe? What else made a female feel more powerful than to have a lover bow down to her. Dear Jesus Mary fucking Christ…was I really going to do this?
I understand why Calliope felt so impatient. We were so close to the end; we just had to get over this and she, along with my daughter, could finally come home.
I thought of her and Gigi’s faces, imagining both of them here. The fights Calliope and I would have and the plans we’d make. The more I thought that about the more I realized I was no longer upset about the church. I already forgave her. No, it was beyond that…it now felt irrelevant if she wasn’t here.
I’ve become my father. Just like he did with my mother, I let go of her sins because I’d rather have her than dwell on it.
I’m not apologizing to her, I told myself. At least not verbally…but I could use the current events she set up.
When I “woke up” I’d train Ivy and then we’d go to Boston. Blaming the bomb on them was a good enough reason to pay the Finnegan brothers a visit. That and our “marriage.”
