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“And whose fault is that?” She crosses her arms. “Your father told me you stormed out after the wedding?”
My stomach churns as I remember the messed-up roller coaster that last night was. Smoking weed with Isabella and meeting that guy, then dad telling me like an hour later that I’m supposed tomarryhim. The party...
Oh fuck, the party.
“Can I be alone right now?” I ask my mom. “I’m still just waking up.”
“Let’s talk now,” she says, “then you can be alone. I won’t take up too much of your precious time.”
It will be easier not to argue with her. I sit up in bed, resigned. “Okay. What?”
“You know you’re marrying Alessandro Rossi.”
I bury my head in my hands. “Mom, goddammit. I don’t want to do that.”
“And I don’t like going to the doctor, Ava, but I do it. I don’t like flossing my teeth, but you know what I do every single day?”
“We’re not talking about flossing my fucking teeth!” I yell, patience evaporating. “We’re talking about me spending the rest of my life with someone I don’t love, someone I never even met before tonight!”
My mother, Maria Gagliardi, gives me a look I’ve seen far, far too many times, forcing her heavily Botoxed face into a patronizing smile. “That isn’t true, honey. You’ve met Alessandro before. Don’t you remember that summer? When we stayed at the Bevilacqua’s lake house, and you played with all the other kids?”
I squint, memories starting to flash back to me. “You mean when I was like 13?”
“You were 14. And maybe you don’t remember this well, but Alessandro was there visiting with his grandfather at the same time as us. I think he went by ‘Alex’ back then.”
Oh,shit. The nameAlex, I remember. In fact, it’s just about the only part of that trip I do. The mysterious, well-dressed older guy who was always in a bad mood and didn’t seem to give a fuck about anything, including me. That shit was like crack to me at that age.
Yeah, I remember him. And that’s why I recognized him at the wedding. Five years ago, for about a week, he was my completely inappropriate crush.
“That’s not the point, mom. I don’t want an arranged marriage. I want to choose who I marry.”
She sighs. “And I want to—”
“You get everything you want!”I interrupt her, my anger flaring back up. “You got your dream house, your dream car, all on account of dad’s blood money. Look at that rock on your finger. Look at all the shit we own! It is suchbullshitfor you to act like your life is this constant struggle of you doing things you don’t want to do.”
My mother goes silent. I can tell that I’ve gone too far for this to continue as a rational discussion.
“We all do things for family,” she snaps. “I’ve done more for our family than you will ever know. I don’t want to hear one more word of argument. The world doesnotrevolve around you. You’re marrying Alessandro Rossi, and that’s final.”
She spins around and slams my door behind her.
I scream into my pillow.
Chapter Eight
Alessandro
What the actual fuck is wrong with me? What did Idolast night?
Okay, I know exactly what I did. What I don’t get is why. Usually, I make good decisions.
Last night, I did not make good decisions.
Going to that college party was stupid. The last thing I need is to get caught by the police at an event with underage drinking. Sure, I know some guys on the force who owe me a few favors, and I probably could have gotten away just fine. But that isn’t a good situation for anybody.
The really fucked up thing is, I don’t regret any of it.
Last night, I proved something to myself. And to Ava as well, although she doesn’t know it yet.
