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“I… I like it,” I whisper.
He kisses my wet, tear-stained cheek. “Good. I like it too. Know why?”
I shake my head, so broken down my voice has left me.
“It’s a whore’s haircut. A reminder of your place.My whore.”
Lucius hooks a thick arm around my slender waist and holds me against him. The kinda embrace two lovers would share during an affectionate moment. He’s smiling once more as he brushes his lips near my ear.
I feel sick. Crawling inside my skin at him touching me at all, let alone intimately.
“Don’t fucking try me, Stef. Don’t ever lie to me again.”
Before I can deny his allegation, he presses the sharp point of the scissors into my stomach. I whimper at the surprise of it—not because it’s pierced skin but because the jab catches me off guard.
“Pray that it’s mine,” he snarls into my ear. “Or I will cut it out of you myself.”
He lets the scissors go and they clang hitting the floor.
He steps off me and leaves. The door slams shut and I jump at the loud noise.
I’m on edge and panicked. Dizzy and tearful. Shaky.
Today is the day I decide I need a drink. Or two. Or a lot.
Marsia and Florina scream when they return and find me a mess.
I’m sitting on the floor with the confetti that was onceanima gemella’sletter and the bottle of Prosecco. They take one look at my chopped-up hair and stagger to chairs before they pass out.
“What… did… you… do…?” Marsia asks. Her eyes fall on the heap of blonde tresses gathered on the floor.
I shrug and take another swig of the Prosecco. I didn’t bother with a glass.
“You’re getting married in two hours! And you chop your hair off?!” Marsia scrubs her hands over her face as if testing whether she’s awake.
Florina seems less panicked about it. In the coming minutes, I find out why. She helps me to my feet, stealing away the bottle from me, and guides me into the bathroom.
“I can fix it. Even it out,” she says, pulling out some sheers from a drawer. “You remember my ma used to be a hairdresser. She taught me some things. I used to cut my little sister’s hair.”
My throat tight and eyes itchy, I nod. I’m drunk and tired and ready to get today over with.
“He was mad?” Florina asks suddenly. A deep frown crosses her face. “That’s what I was worried about. I tried to hide that letter for a reason, Stef.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s over.”
Lucius won. He always wins.
* * *
Today is the day I noticed everybody looking at me crazy.
It’s the champagne—andthe whiskey I snuck at the hotel bar. It’s helped in some ways, blurred reality so I’m not upset and tearful anymore.
An hour is all it takes.
I’m stumbling, slurring, trying hard to be a blushing bride.
To Florina and Marsia’s credit, they cleaned me up well. Florina turned Lucius’s disastrous ‘whore’s haircut’ into a teased pixie that stops at my ears. It shows off my cheekbones and the veil disguises how short it is anyway.
