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Chapter Twenty-Nine
Getting married was exhausting, and I was glad that my wedding day was finally over. As I sat at the vanity that had magically appeared in Marco’s room, I wondered if all brides felt this way. I couldn’t see how not. The whole production was too much.
“I’ll have to do something nice for Sasha,” I said aloud, my eyes meeting Marco’s in the mirror. He was laying on the bed in just his suit pants looking like a GQ men’s advent. No one should look as hot as he did.
“Letting her throw the wedding was something nice. That girl loves to plan an event.”
I grabbed a makeup remover and began getting the layers of war paint off myself. The makeup artist had done a beautiful job on me, but I wasn’t someone used to wearing too much, and while the makeup had looked natural, it felt like I was wearing layer upon layer of cement.
Reaching up, I started to undo my hair. It has been straightened and re-curled, so that my normally wild waves were tamed and glamorous. Again, it was lovely, but the prim, polished version of myself didn’t feel like me.
“Here,” Marcos said from behind me. I’d been so focused on unbriding myself that I forgot all about my husband. “Let me help you.”
His large hands made their way to my hair, and he deftly began pulling out the pins that held it in place. When he was done, his fingers massaged my scalp in a way that made me moan out in pleasure.
“That feels nice,” I leaned back, unable to help myself. For a moment, I could pretend that Marco and I were a normal husband and wife. That we loved one another, and that his tenderness was a sign of that.
Over the last week especially, I felt myself falling into the trap of this charade we’d created. Marco wasn’t exactly the man who I’d thought he would be. Sure, he was surrounded by darkness, and sometimes, it engulfed him. I couldn’t ignore that. After all, he’d tried to strangle me to death, which was something that I couldn’t ignore. But after spending some time with him, hearing about his life, I knew why he’d been so eager to get rid of me.
I was a threat, and Marco would handle any threats against his family with swift retribution.
But there was a kindness in him. I saw that when someone tried to kill me. He’d been tender and worried. I suspected that the shooting reminded him of the death of his brother, father, and mother. He hadn’t spoken much about what happened.
He was also so sweet with Mikey. Watching the two of them interact today, made my heart break into a million pieces.
“Tell me what’s wrong.” Marco’s’ fingers slid down my neck, massaging the skin. I closed my eyes as they did. His fingers worked magic on the tense knot that formed on my neck. I’m pretty sure it had been there for years, ever since Mikey’s cancer diagnosis. “Where did you go?”
My eyes locked in on his in the mirror. There was an intensity in his gaze as we looked at one another. I tried not to squirm in my seat. Marco and I had opened up slightly to one another, but there were still things in my heart that I wasn’t ready to share.
“You’ve been strange since the reception.”
“Strange how?” I asked, playing stupid. I knew what he was talking about. I’d been nervous during the wedding, but I’d done all that I could to try and seem like a happy bride. It wasn’t until I watched Mikey and Marco together that I felt all of the sadness of the last five or so years dump down upon me.
Marco reached out and tilted my head so that I was looking directly at him. His finger traced a line up to my cheek before he cupped it. “You know what I’m talking about. Ever since we talked to Mikey, you’ve retreated inside yourself. I want to know why.”
Marco wasn’t going to let this go. I didn’t understand why. I’d gone through bouts of depression all of my life. I chalked it up to the fact that my life was generally shit. But I’d dealt with it. I had too much responsibility, even before Mikey’s illness, to let myself wallow in pity. I didn’t need Marco picking at a wound that I did my best to keep stitched up.
“Are you upset that your mother didn’t show up?” Marco asked.
I snorted before I could stop myself. “This is hardly the first time that my mother hasn’t shown up for something.” In fact, I might have been more shocked if she had shown up.
“Mikey and your mom seem close.” Marco was fishing. I knew he was. I hadn’t told him a ton about myself. To be honest, I figured he knew most of it all. I wasn’t naïve. I knew that he had a file on me somewhere. After all, I wasn’t the one who gave him my telephone number, or my address. He’d known all of these things on his own.
I could tell from the look in his eye that he wasn’t going to let this go. “Aren’t we supposed to be having sex?” I asked. “Isn’t that what most married couples do on their wedding night? Sounds more fun than dredging up childhood traumas.” I was only half joking.
Marco shrugged. “We aren’t exactly traditional.” That was his way of telling me that he wouldn’t be backing off of this topic.
I didn’t get why Marco wanted to know about me. We weren’t traditional. Sure, we were technically husband and wife, and we’d slept together multiple times, but that didn’t mean that he needed to know anything additional about me.
“She’s better with Mikey than she’s ever been with me. I don’t know why. Maybe, because he looks nothing like our father, or maybe because she was older when she had him…” I trailed off. I’d stopped wondering about my relationship with my mother years ago. There was no point in it. We were never going to be close, so there was no need to get upset over things that I had no control over.
“That must have been hard, growing up.”
“What are you?” I asked. “My therapist?”
We’d never had enough money for therapy, or health insurance. The only reason we were able to pay for Mikey’s treatments was because of the property our grandmother gave us, and the college fund they’d left for us.
“My mother and I weren’t the closest,” Marco said. I raised a brow. He’d talked about her as if she were a saint. I hadn’t expected to learn that they hadn’t been close.
