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There’s a strange sort of panic in her tone that should alarm me.
“Maybe there’s one in Momma’s closet,” I suggest.
After she passed away, Daddy couldn’t bear to get rid of any of her belongings. Frankly, neither could we. It’s nice to rummage through her things from time to time. To take in her lingering scent. To pretend she’s still here.
I help Alma search for something. In the very back of our mother’s closet, we find a blue cashmere scarf that’s thick enough to be worn as a shawl.
“Something borrowed, something blue,” Alma says. “I’ll tell Luca it was Momma’s, and I’m sure he’ll allow me to wear it.”
It irks me that she says he’ll “allow” it. They’re not married yet, and she’s already behaving like the obedient wife.
But I don’t say anything about it, because it will change nothing. Alma has made her decision, and if I push her in any other direction, I’ll be no better than Luca or my father.
I feel completely and utterly helpless.
“I’m sure he’ll love it,” I tell her instead.
She sighs as she lays the scarf over the dress. “Yeah. I need a drink. Would you like one?”
“Sure,” I say.
Alma goes downstairs to pour us a glass of cheap box wine that’s sure to leave us with a hangover.
I’m left alone to stare at the wedding gown that Luca had made for my sister. He must have paid a fortune for something this exquisite to be put together in such a short amount of time. The wedding planner brought the designer from the high-end bridal shop to our house just two weeks ago. It was easy to tell she was flustered as she hurriedly took measurements. She mumbled under her breath only loud enough that the planner could make it out, but it was easy to hear the annoyance in her tone.
Not that I could blame her. Knowing the Sinacores, Luca probably gave her no choice in the matter.
Produce a beautiful dress or die.
At least, that’s what I imagine happened, because she did it.
I bend over the bed and run my palm over the satin and lace. It’s breathtaking. Alma may not have selected a dress like this—the sleeveless mermaid-cut gown with the detachable tulle skirt is far too sexy, too revealing for her—but I would have. It’s daringly elegant. Seductive.
And the veil… I run my hand over that too. It’s exquisite, the delicate fabric so sheer, it could be gossamer. Handmade in Italy.
Frankly, it surprises me that Luca had the capacity to choose something so lovely. I’d half expected it to be black and made of leather and chains and adorned with metal studs.
“I’m scared, Cari.”
I turn to see my twin downing her glass of red like it’s grape juice. “Are you scared of Luca?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t think he’d hurt me on purpose. But he doesn’t really want me. He just needs me for something. It’s like I match his needs right now. What’s going to happen when he doesn’t need me anymore? I’ll be abandoned in that world. Then what will I do?”
“We can still run, Alma. You and me.” I take her by the shoulders. “Let’s go somewhere no one will ever find us,” I suggest almost desperately.
“What about Daddy?”
“What about him?” I huff. “He’s the one who made this mess, and it shouldn’t be up to us to clean it up.”
“It shouldn’t, but he’s our dad. Carina, you’re too hard on him,” she criticizes. “He may not be perfect, but he loves us. You know he does.”
I bite back the retort that’s ready to spew from my mouth. If I wasn’t hard on him, we’d be living in a box under a bridge. But she’s right—he loves us. There are far more wonderful memories than there are bad.
That’s why I keep my lips clamped and remind myself that I too love him. And if Luca had askedmeto marry him, I would have done it to save my father and sister. Just like she’s doing now.
“You’re right.” I pull her into a tight embrace, hating myself for not giving her more credit.
She’s so much braver than she seems.
