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However, to be honest, I will also be forced to acknowledge that not every time I think of Marcos, my brain is out of the equation.The truth is, my fiancé intrigues me, and maybe it’s not even his fault.
I summed Marcos up as an asshole.For eight months, that was all I saw about him, that I allowed myself to see.Despite our relative physical proximity, after all, I worked in his house, he was a stranger, he was unreachable.He was just another boss despised by one of his employees, just a number in the statistics, but since he really came to be a part of my life and Isabella’s, that’s a role he refuses to play full-time.
It is easy to pretend that everything that moves me is the unquestionable desire that surrounds us, because thinking beyond will force me to think beyond Marcos, will force me to think about myself, and I do not want to.I’m fine where I am.I’m fine the way I am.It’s Bella and I against the world, I don’t want or need anything else.
A firm knock sounds at the door and even though I know it’s almost impossible that it came from Isabella’s little hands, I take my eyes to the baby monitor, making sure she’s still asleep, and yes, she is.Which can only mean one thing.
I drag my feet to the door, put my hand on the doorknob, take a deep breath, and open it, finding a sad puppy face Marcos behind it.I look at him, keeping silent, and realize that this is the first time one of us has come this close to the other’s room.
“Antonella...” I still say nothing, and the fact that it increases the anxiety that overflows in him makes me satisfied. “I’m sorry...” He starts, and I raise my eyebrows, that’s all the reaction I give him. “I’ve had a shitty day and I’m not used to hearing no.”
I let a sound of disbelief escape my throat.
“You behaved exactly like Isabella when I say she can’t eat ice cream for dinner.This wasn’t the first time, Marcos, and Isabella is three.I understand this marriage isn’t real, but I want to make sure I’m involved with an adult, I don’t need another child!”
“I know, and I’m sorry for that. I just…” he starts, but gives up halfway, lowers his head, rests his hands on his hips, attracting my eyes to his low sweatpants.Fuck, Antonella!I reproach myself, because it was not even five minutes ago that I was more than determined, when it came to Marcos, to think only with my head.But this is easier said than done… For this reason, and only for this reason, I decide to give him some relief.
“I understand, Marcos,” I admit, and his eyes rise, meeting mine.To his credit, he, not for a second, looked at any part of me other than my face, which is already more than I can say for myself. “This thing between us...Whatever it is… It’s easy to lose control.But I can’t lose control, Marcos.I just can’t take the risk of waking up one day and finding that all of this has become more than it should because I’m not alone.I could handle a broken heart, but Isabella doesn’t deserve to have to bear the tragic consequences it would bring to our marriage” I lie, but by his serious expression, I can swear he believes it to be true.
“I understand and I’m sorry that I reacted like…” He lowers his head again, looking, again, exactly what he’s having trouble admitting he was, a spoiled child, “a naughty child.” I laugh quietly, the anger I felt already replaced by amusement.What can I do?I’m not a spiteful person, and seeing a man of that size force himself to acknowledge that he’s spoiled has its value.
“It’s okay, Marcos. Just... don’t do it again, ok?”
“And about the honeymoon…” he begins, and I bow my head, hopeful that his adult moment has earned me an unexpected achievement.
“I really can’t cancel, Antonella...People need to believe that this marriage is real.If Isabella were younger, it would make sense, but she is not” he points out and I know he talks about the possibility of a nanny “what I can promise is that we will be close.We will not leave São Paulo, we will go to a private island on the coast and we will have a helicopter at our disposal at all times...We’ll travel after the party, she’ll be asleep by then.We’ll be back three days later, instead of seven, what do you think?”
“I’d still rather not go.”
“I know, but I really need it, Antonella...” He pauses, opens his mouth, but then he closes it and I laugh, because now he decided to measure the words.Oh, Marcos…
“And I knew that would be necessary.” I put into words what he didn’t have the courage to.
“Your words, not mine.”
“And we both know it were in your thoughts!” I say, and he looks away.
“I’m sorry, Antonella, I really am.”
“It’s okay, you’re saving me four days of anguish, that’s a lot.”
“It’s the least I could do.” It’s my turn to keep my thoughts to myself and his to laugh.
“Your words, not mine...” I return his words.
“Good night, Antonella.”
“Good night, Marcos.”
I lean my head against the wall behind me, thanking the silence around me as my head does not offer me the same courtesy.Hidden in an access corridor to the event hall of one of the most traditional hotels in São Paulo, wearing a tuxedo and about to say a yes that I never thought I would say, I try to deal with the fact that this is not the reason for my despair.
“If it isn’t the happiest groom on earth.” I snort, already turning in the direction of the known voice and I find João Pedro arm in arm with his wife, who clearly makes an effort not to laugh.
“Laugh it up, Eliza, you’ve earned that right.” As if just waiting for permission, the dark-haired, blue-eyed little woman bursts into laughter that makes me regret telling her she could laugh.As if pulled by an invisible thread, João Pedro starts to laugh as scandalously as his wife, and I thank him for being alone in the hotel corridor. “All right, I get it...You can stop now” I grumble and Eliza still tries to control herself, João Pedro does not.
“It’s not at you!I swear!” The woman’s voice comes out in tune by the laughter and I tilt my head to the side in an obvious silent question. “All right, maybe it’s at you.But not over the marriage.Not even because you’re hiding...” she can say normally after a few seconds by pulling the air through her nose and releasing it through her mouth.
“What is it about?” I ask with a raised eyebrow and she looks to her husband for help.He winks at her, flirtatious, completely devoid of the awkwardness she feels.
