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Chapter 32
I meetmy sisters and Lorenzo, their bodyguard, for brunch at an upscale harbor diner the next day, and for a while, it almost feels like old times.
They sit across the table from me, Ariana’s hair twisted into a bun and the sleeves of her light blue blouse buttoned at her elbows. Stella, meanwhile, tucks her hair into the collar of her button-down, leaning over her plate as Ari details some Hollywood scandal overshadowing news of my “big return.”
“...and I’m just saying, men like that who champion women’s rights so vocally are always the first to be accused of sexual harassment. They’re too good to be true.”
Stella scoffs, bits of egg flying from her mouth. “You don’t believe that girl’s story, do you? They met one night in New York City, and he just had to have her? She’s a little nobody from Maine, and he’s a rock god; why would he pick her?”
Ari tosses a bagel chip at her. “I’m choosing to believe the victim, asshole.”
“In America, it’s innocent until proven guilty,” Stella says, shaking her head. “And don’t act like you weren’t singing the latest Aiden James single just last week. I can hear you in the shower, you know.”
We make it through eggs Benedict, copious amounts of turkey bacon, and endless flutes of sparkling cider before anyone brings Mamá up.
It’s me. I bring her up.
“You guys said she was despondent,” I accuse, pointing at Ariana with my fork. “That she wanted me home.”
Ari shrugs, taking a bite of a cheese Danish. “She was, I swear it. There were days that she wouldn’t even leave her room. I don’t know why she acted so gross last night.”
“Maybe she’s jealous,” Stella offers, shrugging her bony shoulders.
It’s the second time someone has suggested as much in the last twenty-four hours, and I don’t like that everyone seems to be catching onto something completely invisible to me. “Of what?”
“I don’t know.” Stella squints at me through her glasses, pursing her lips. “Take your pick, I guess? You know how Mamá is; now imagine getting stuck in a life because of who your family is, and never getting out of it. Once you’re stuck, you’re stuck.”
“We’re all stuck in this life,” I say.
“Are we?” Stella takes her glasses, pushing them up into her hairline. “Or have you spent the last few months being wined and dined by your incredibly dangerous, disturbingly handsome husband, on an island completely removed from any and all famiglia drama?”
I poke at the remainder of my eggs, scowling. “It wasn’t like I took a vacation. I was...”
Trailing off, I realize my sisters don’t technically know the full details of the reasoning behind my marriage to Kal. And I’m not exactly sure what our parents told them, so I decide to clear the air once and for all, hoping it’ll eliminate the massive weight bearing down on my chest.
“Someone recorded Kal and me the first time we slept together.”
Ari snickers. “First implies there was a second, and third, and—”
Stella wraps her arm around Ari’s neck, clamping her hand over her mouth. “We already know that. Papá wasted no time in telling everyone how Kal seduced you. Not that you needed sympathy in the public’s eye, being kidnapped and all.”
Annoyance flickers in my gut, but I ignore it, setting my fork down. “Okay, well. The people who recorded us were blackmailing Papá and Kal, and they wanted me to marry Kal... I guess.”
Blinking, I glance down at the gold tablecloth covering the table, realizing my own details on the optics are blurry.
Shaking off the eerie feeling, I continue. “Whatever, I don’t know the exact details, but the point is, someone forced both of us into the marriage. Maybe Kal didn’t approach everything in the best way, but we’re both victims.”
“Are you?” Ari asks, shoving Stella’s hand away. “I mean, that’s why you got married, but... what’s making you stay married?” She reaches for a strawberry off her plate, plopping it in her mouth. “You certainly don’t look like a victim.”
My mouth parts immediately, a reflexive response poised on the tip of my tongue before her words fully process. Snapping my lips shut, I sit back in my seat, my stomach dropping to my knees.
Stella quickly changes the subject, moving on before I’ve answered Ariana to talk about the physics course she’s taking at Harvard over the summer, her fifteen-year-old brain apparently growing bored of the marriage talk. But Ariana watches me throughout the rest of brunch, silent and steady, and I wonder if she sees what I’m trying so desperately to hide.
The truth.
* * *
Supperwith my family is a big deal.
