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“May I be excused?” I cleared my throat and, without waiting for an answer, stood and charged toward the bathroom, aware of the fact that my nemesis’ eyes, as well as Angelo’s and my parents’, were all on my back, pointed like loaded guns.
The restrooms were at the end of the ballroom, Gentlemen and Ladies facing one another, under a massive wrought-iron, curved stairway.
I slipped inside, sagging against the wall, closing my eyes, and taking the deepest breath my corseted bodice would allow.
Breathe.
Just breathe.
A hand clasped my shoulder. Small, warm fingers curling around my collarbone. I cracked my eyes open and yelped, jumping backward, my head hitting the tiles behind me.
“Sweet Jesus!”
It was Mama.
Up close, her face looked too wary, too old, and too unfamiliar. It looked like she’d aged a decade overnight, and all the anger I’d harbored toward her in the past three days flew out the window.
Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen from crying. Her normally proud, brown mane was littered with gray hair.
“How are you holding up, Vita Mia?”
Instead of answering, I flung myself into her arms, releasing a sob I’d been holding since Wolfe ushered me into his sleek black Escalade tonight.
How could I not cut her some slack?
She looked as miserable as I was.
“I hate it there. I don’t eat. I barely sleep. And to make matters worse…” I sniffed, disconnecting from her so I could hold her gaze for emphasis. “Angelo is dating Emily now.”
I felt my eyes bulging out of their sockets with urgency.
“It’s only their first date,” Mama assured me, patting my back and drawing me into another hug.
I shook my head in the crook of her shoulder.
“I don’t even know why it matters. I’m getting married. It’s done.”
“Sweetie…”
“Why, Mama?” I stepped out of her embrace again, dragging myself toward the imperial sinks to pluck some tissue before my makeup was completely ruined. “What possessed Papa to do something like this?”
I watched her in the reflection of the mirror behind me. The way her shoulders wilted in her slightly oversized black dress.
I realized she hadn’t been eating much, either.
“Your father doesn’t share many things with me, but trust me when I tell you this was not an easy decision for him to make. We are still shaken by what happened. We just want you to give Senator Keaton an honest chance. He is handsome, rich, and has a good job. You’re not marrying beneath you.”
“I am marrying a monster,” I drawled.
“You could be happy, amore.”
I shook my head, before throwing it backward and laughing. She didn’t have to spell it out for me. Her hands were tied.
I harbored many bad feelings toward my father but thinking them openly—not to mention uttering them aloud—was like pouring cyanide onto an open wound.
Mama looked back and forth between the door and me, and I knew what she was thinking.
We couldn’t stay here much longer. People would start asking questions. Especially when they saw that I’d been crying.
