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“How do I know that’s not what you were doing this whole time?”
“Don’t play that. You know how to know.” He stares at me, and I guess I do. I know exactly what he’s talking about. It’s the single thing keeping my feet nailed to the floor as I float through this panic and confusion.
“So, what, was marrying me a test?”
“That was me being fucking selfish and making sure you were mine forever.”
“So you marry me in secret, binding me to you so you can just offer me up to your nephew two days later? Am I your property now, free to do whatever you want? Can you trade me like a collectible card?” I want to scream, rage, but my words come through gritted teeth.
Dante smiles the smile that brings me back to the car, to that trip, to Lake George, where everything changed.
* * *
The Friday before:
We stop in front of a municipal building twenty minutes outside New York City.
“Dante, what are we doing here?” I ask, looking around. This isn’t a . . . vacation.
“Getting married,” he says, turning the key to stop the car, and I think it also somehow is wired to my body because every muscle freezes.
“What?” I ask in disbelief when he doesn’t say anything more, just sits there, meeting my astonished look with a hand on the door.
“We’re getting married, fiorella.”
My lips suddenly feel so freaking dry.
“What?”
“Come on. We have to go. I called in a favor for them to let us in after hours, but a favor only does so much. Can’t work a miracle with this kind of shit.”
“You called in a favor.”
“Three, actually.” He opens the door and steps out, walking around the car and opening mine. Cold air comes in and wakes me up a bit.
“You want to marry me?” I ask, still buckled in, still confused. He smiles that handsome fucking smile and squats outside my door. Leaning over, he unbuckles my belt before putting his hand on my cheek and moving so we’re face-to-face.
“Is that even a question, Delilah?”
After everything that’s happened over the past few months?
I guess not.
Maybe?
I change my question.
“You want to marry me in a random municipality building outside the city?”
“Not especially, but it’s far enough away from Hudson City that the whispers shouldn’t travel for a while. Our little secret.”
“You want to marry me in secret?”
The loving nature of his gaze evaporates, irritation taking its place.
“Are you fucking kidding me? When the time is right, I’m marrying you in a ceremony with 500 fuckin’ people in attendance. Announcements in the paper, huge fuckin’ reception.” His look is . . . determined.
He wants that.
