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Once I’m past the guard house and beyond the gate, I let the emotions swell and crash through me. Tears roll down my face. I feel silly as I walk along the early morning sidewalk crying like a child. I have to pause on a bench and bury my face in my hands, my body shuddering. A nice older man asks if I’m okay, and I tell him that I’m fine. He leaves me there alone with the birds and the breeze, wishing I were anywhere but here.
Evander will never love me, no matter what he says, no matter what he does.
I should’ve realized this sooner.
It’s not even about the paperwork issues. If he’d told me up front, we could’ve worked with that. I knew about the delay—I’d looked up divorce laws before running out on Christopher—but I thought he’d found some way around them. He even mentionedhow long it’ll takeat one point, and that should’ve been another clue.
But the worst part is the simple fact: I’m still married to Christopher.
That feels worse than Evander keeping this from me.
I believe him when he says it slipped his mind. I don’t believe that he’d purposefully mislead me, not at this point, not after everything we’ve done together to get here.
But that’s a small consolation.
Evander’s out there fighting in the streets because of me, because our marriage isn’t official. Christopher thinks I’m still his, and I will be, for another few months at least.
Then what? Will Evander still want me when we can file the papers to make the marriage real? Will I still need him to keep me safe?
What a damn mess. What a stupid, ugly mess.
Nothing is ever simple in my life. From the day I was born, everything’s been overly complicated. Every day’s a struggle, and each time I think it’s getting better, the world manages to punch me in the teeth.
That’s how I feel right now. Like my throat’s been kicked in by fate.
It takes me a little while until I calm down. I don’t recognize the area I’m in, but I’m not far from the Kazan family mansion. I watch cars roll past and think about Christopher, out there fighting a war to get me back again.
I don’t think he even wants me. Christopher never really loved me, not in the way a husband should. Evander looks at me like I’m the only girl in the world, like he can’t take his eyes from me even if he wanted. Christopher never looked at me like that, not even on our wedding night.
To him, I was always a thing. An object, a piece of jewelry. I was the necessary step toward becoming a real captain in the Pavone Famiglia. Men are expected to take wives, have children, grow the family’s power. I was convenient for him.
He wanted children. He kept trying to force them on me. He’d come home nights too drunk to speak and still want to sleep with me. That bastard never paid any attention to me, and he never noticed that I took birth control pills to make sure he never put a baby inside me.
To make sure I was never trapped with him in my life.
Now he wants me back.
It’s a sham, a horror. The whole thing is a misery. But sitting here on this bench, I don’t know what else I can do.
Evander’s right. I’m not safe at the diner. Christopher proved that already. Even if it kills me, I know I can’t go back there, not until Evander comes up with some way to ensure my safety. I know it, and he knows it, and my stupid little temper tantrum from earlier seems so trite and childish now.
I just want to feel like I have a life.
That’s all I’ve ever wanted.
After a while, I straighten myself out and stand. I wipe my face and take deep breaths before I start back toward the driveway. It takes ten minutes before the guard house comes into view. Three soldiers out front come toward me, looking concerned.
“Mrs. Kazan,” the oldest member of the group says, hurrying out to meet me. “Your husband is very worried. He was about to send us to find you.”
“I’m sure he was. Did you have orders to drag me back, too?”
He looks uncomfortable. “Please, come into the guard house. Let me radio up and let him know you’re okay.”
“Fine.” I let the soldier direct me into the small shack. I sit on a well-worn chair and ignore thePlayboystucked discreetly under the small desk. The soldier picks up the radio to call the main house.
“Main house, this is guard one, we have Mrs. Kazan. Repeat, the lord’s wife is here—”
But he doesn’t get a chance to finish.
