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“Do you think you can grow to love someone?” I ask Marta.
“Yes,” she says hesitantly. “I do.”
“Then I’ll still marry him,” I say. “But I’m going to have a conversation with him after the wedding, and tell him that I won’t put up with cheating.”
“There’s no evidence he is cheating,” Marta says, sounding exasperated.
“There’s no evidence he isn’t,” I insist, and she groans.
“I think this wedding is making you crazy,” she says, and I sigh, rubbing a hand over my face as we approach Marta’s apartment complex.
She’s moved out of the family home with a couple of college roommates who are currently at home on spring break.
“Thank you for letting me stay tonight,” I say, looking at her gratefully.
“What are best friends for?” she responds easily, and when we get inside her apartment, she instantly starts making me a rum runner.
“You’re the best friend in the world,” I groan, sipping it when she hands it to me.
“If I didn’t get you drunk before your wedding, I’d be a terrible friend. Especially since you wouldn’t let me throw you a bachelorette party.”
I glower. “Mostly because I didn’t want Dante to have a bachelor party.”
“You’re not the jealous type at all,” she drawls.
I spend the rest of the night drinking rum runners and talking to Marta, and by the time I lie down on her couch, Dante has texted me a few times.
Miss you, pretty girl.
Can’t wait for tomorrow.
I groan, my head aching as I roll over on Marta’s couch.
I miss you, too,I text back, because I’m drunk and it’s true. I misspell a couple of words since I’m squinting at my phone with one eye, and I nearly drop my phone in shock when Dante calls me.
“Hello?” I answer, my voice hoarse from drinking.
“Are you drunk?” he asks me, a smile in his voice.
“Maybe a little,” I admit. “Marta said she didn’t get to throw me a bachelorette party.”
Dante hums. “Fair enough. No strippers, though, right?”
“None of your business,” I tease, but Dante goes silent on the other line. “No, of course no strippers.”
“Good. I didn’t book any either,” he laughs, but I don’t think it’s very funny, not after what I’ve seen today.
I huff out a breath. “Dante,” I start, wanting to ask him about it, wanting to blurt out all my fears.
“Yes, pretty girl?” he murmurs, and I remember the first time he called me that, when he leaned down to check on me after I was almost shot. And each time he calls me that my heart grows larger. Just for him.
I love him. I’ve loved him since I was seventeen and being around him so much has just made my feelings stronger. Of course I’m going to marry him, because he’s the love of my life.
“I love you,” I mutter, half asleep, my filters all gone. I know it’s soon and he might not be ready, but that’s how I feel. Dante goes quiet on the other line.
“I know you do, pretty girl,” he murmurs, and that’s enough to send me into sleep.
9
