Page 5 of His Bride

“Where am I?” I ask as I wet my thick mane of dark curls.

“Boston, well, Dorchester, specifically.”

“Where the Wahlberg’s grew up?” I ask. I might be obsessed with Donnie.

“Yes,” she says, laughing. “I don’t know them or anything, in case you’re wondering.”

“Okay,” I say, finding myself laughing right along with her.

“How old are you?” I ask, wanting to know more about her.

“Seventeen. Just had a birthday last week.” I’m going to throat-punch her brother. He’s a fucking coward, whoever the fuck he is.

“Well, happy birthday.”

“Thanks. How old are you?”

“Twenty-four.”

“Cool. We’re going to be close; I know it,” she says excitedly. I almost hate to burst her innocent little bubble. Almost.

“Cashel, you can’t be serious. Your brother has kidnapped me for what I am assuming is ransom. We won’t speak after I’m sent home.”

“Talk to Dory. He’ll explain everything.”

“Dory?” I ask, running my finger over the spur-of-the-moment tattoo I got two years ago. Dory fromFinding Nemois tatted on my hip bone. I was in Savannah on Spring Break, and my sorority sisters and I found the Tattooed Vixen while we were pub crawling. We each got our favorite obscure Disney character tattooed on us. My best friend, Gisela, who happens to be a real-life princess of the tiny country of Rirockia on the Iberian Peninsula, has Meeko fromPocahontastattooed on her shoulder.

“My oldest brother. He’s in charge.”

“In charge? Okay,” I say, finishing washing my body. I turn the water off, and she's standing there as soon as I open the shower door. I don’t even have time to be self-conscious because she is wrapping a towel around me. Then she spots that tattoo.

“Oh, shit, he will get a freaking kick out of that,” she says, laughing.

“He’ll never see it,” I vow. She stops laughing but doesn’t say anything else about that.

“I used your weird costume to determine your size and bought you a lot of clothes. They are hanging in the closet over there. She points to the bedroom. “Brush your teeth, and I’ll brush your hair if you want,” she says.

“That’s okay, Cashel. I can do it.”

“It’s really no trouble,” she says. I look at her face. She looks starved for female attention or companionship.

“Go ahead,” I say, brushing my teeth quickly. I sit down at the vanity and let her brush my hair.

“My mom died about ten years ago. My stepmom was only eighteen when she married my dad and didn't know what to do with me.” I reach up and put my hand over hers.

“I’m sorry that happened to you. Your dad should have chosen better for you.”

“It’s okay, really. Dory did everything for me. He even learned how to do my hair by watching videos. He’s the sweetest man, you’ll see.” My heart does a little funny turn in my chest. It’s gotta be heartburn from not eating; I lie to myself.

It was at this moment that I decide that I’m going to be this girl’s friend forever. It doesn’t matter what’s going on here or with her brother. I’m not going to abandon her and leave her here without me. I don’t know where that comes from, but it’s how I feel, and I’m a big believer in feelings and things happening for a reason.

“There’s makeup there for you. You should put some on.”

I look at my face in the mirror and then down at the basic makeup she has piled on the vanity. I look pale and gaunt. I don’t know how she did it, but she got my right shade and preferred brand. I also look over at the other sink, expecting it to be empty but it’s full of men’s bathroom accessories: an electric razor, toothbrush, aftershave, beard balm, glass jars with Q-tips, cotton balls, and floss picks. There are also several bottles of expensive colognes, includingSavauge.

“Thank you, Cash.”

“No one’s ever called me that.”

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