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I’m just not sure how I’m supposed to trust this man I’m signing my life away to. Exchanging one prison for a relationship that will undoubtedly erect another, just because I like the way his head fits between my thighs? Because he said he could protect me?
Maybe my father is right, and I really am stupid.
As we make our way to the courtroom where my parents and Liv stand by the door, tension threads through the muscles in my chest, restricting airflow. I stumble slightly in the Versace heels I borrowed from Liv, and catch myself on the golden handle, pressing all of my weight into the fixture.
I feel my best friend’s hands at my back as Juliet’s slips from mine, leaving me cold and alone, again, as my heart bleeds.
For Juliet. For us.
For me.
Cool fingers wrap around my arm, and suddenly I’m being half-dragged to the ladies’ room, where Liv positions me in front of a sink and splashes cold water on my face.
“Hey, be careful! You’ll ruin her makeup.” Juliet’s at my side, dabbing beneath my lower eyelid with a napkin.
Liv rolls her brown eyes, a tight, black curl falling from the updo she has her hair twisted in. She holds a paper towel beneath my chin as the water rolls down my face. “Okay, well, I’m more concerned with the fact that your sister looks like she’s about to pass out. Jesus. Did you eat anything today?”
I shake my head slightly. “Didn’t want to get sick on my honeymoon.” Not that I’m actually getting one, but they don’t know that.
“You have to make it through the ceremony to get the honeymoon. Jesus, Care.” Liv sighs and unzips her purse, a cream-colored clutch that almost glows against her brown skin. Pulling out a nutrition bar, she splits the package open and hands it to me. “Just don’t get any filling on your dress.”
Juliet tilts her head, pulling the neckline of my dress up. “Are you sure you want to do this? It’s not too late to back out.”
Liv nods. “Yeah, say the word, and we’ll skedaddle right now. You can move in with me, put that culinary art degree to use since I have no idea how to cook. Hell, I’d even let you come work for me at this point.”
“Tempting as the offer to be an unpaid intern at your startup sounds,” I say, forcing a smile I hope looks more genuine than it feels, “I’m okay. I want to do this.”
Bringing the bar to my mouth, I take a small bite and chew slowly, watching my mother in the mirror behind me. She looks so similar to Juliet and me, with her dyed-blonde locks—prompted by early graying—and big blue eyes. That’s where the comparisons stop, though, because everything else about Lynn Harrison screamsfrigid.
She somehow manages not to notice the bruises lining my neck, or all the times my father dragged me into his office and screamed until my ears felt like they were bleeding—too absorbed in her own understanding of the world to care that someone else is experiencing differently.
Her eyes bore into mine, imploring an explanation; every time she tries to speak to me, I feign being tired or not feeling well, avoiding the conversation. None of it really matters anymore. This train is too far along the track to pull back now, even if my stomach still flips as we leave the restroom.
My mother holds her arm out, barring passage, and then speaks to Juliet and Liv. “Go ahead, girls. We’ll be there in a second.” They nod and trot off, matching gold dresses sashaying with their retreat. She turns, folding her arms across her chest. “Look, I know you’re going to do your best to evade my questions because you’re a private person. And while that’s something I’ve always admired about you, because I think it speaks volumes to how strong you are, I need to know why you’re putting yourself through this.”
Tears prick my eyes, burning like a grease fire.You have no idea how strong I am.I look up at the ceiling until they subside, and then I swipe the back of my hand across my nose, meeting her gaze. “Putting myself through what, Mom?”
She cocks her head to the side, frowning. “Caroline, you barely know this man.”
“I know all I need to.”
“Oh? So, you’re aware he’s a murderer? A drug dealer?” She scoffs, as if it’s crazy I could accept someone living that kind of life.
Elia’s words from Luca’s birthday flash in my mind, indicating the inability to choose between loyalty and duty. And maybe if I had more time, more resources, I could afford to turn my nose up at his career. But I can’t. He’s too important, and my loyalties lie with me.
“Suspicion does not equal guilt,” I say, taking a step back from her. “Dadknows that better than anyone.”
The lines around my mother’s botoxed lips deepen. “Caroline… whatever it is he’s doing to you,tell me. I want to help you.”
Biting down hard on the inside of my cheek, I consider the offer but decide against it. If she wants to pretend to be ignorant of what’s been going on under her nose, I can’t trust her.
“You can’t help me. I’m not in any danger.”
“Caroline, sweetie. You don’t do stuff like this. Why won’t you let someone in for once?”
Because it hurts that I have to give someone an opening; that no one ever cared enough to barge in and force the truth from me.
Because you turn your head and let it all happen.
