In fact, it’s a fucking novelty is what it is.
No one’s ever turned me down before, and isn’t it so fucking funny that the first guy to do it is my awful wedded husband?
It’s hilarious.
I laugh to myself, and then laugh again, because it didn’t sound right the first time.
I’ve stashed myself away in a lower-deck room; I guess it’s where the crew might sleep, although this one is empty right now. I’ll go back up top soon enough and sleep in the sun for the morning, make sure Luca sees I couldn’t give a fuck about what he said. Then I’ll find something to do in the afternoon. There’s no internet here; not that there couldn’t be, but Tino Morelli is canny enough not to leave a digital trail from his yacht. There are a lot of old movies in the entertainment lounge, a lot of Sofia Loren. I can watch some of those and drink a few bottles of the Cristal they have stocked. Maybe I’ll jerk off later, since my husband doesn’t seem inclined to let me drain my balls around him.
But for now I’ll just sit here for a while and look out at the ocean.
It’s a little darker than the blue of Luca’s eyes. It looks calm. Only I know there are things swimming in the depths. Deadly things.
Fuck, I wantso badto go back up to my room and swallow down a handful of the emergency pills I stashed in the lining of my luggage, where I knew Luca wouldn’t think to look. Even just a couple to take the edge off of things. My heart could relax, let go of the pain.
But I don’t go up to my room. I don’t even move. I just stay there staring out the window for a while.
This is a business deal, nothing more. I won’t ever love you.
And then I realize—he called me Howie when he said it. NotFinch. Notangel. Notbaby bird.
Howie.
What the shit-fuck-damn isthatsupposed to mean?
* * *
Dinner is amazing that night.It’s our official honeymoon feast according to Nunzio, the yacht manager, cooked by his wife Maria, the yacht chef. Nunzio makes it sound like such a celebration that I almost forget why I’m here. This could be a date in a top restaurant; Nunzio could be our waiter; Luca and I could be on a first date, getting to know each other, instead of sitting here on our goddamn disaster of a honeymoon.
I can’t help thinking of all those things we’ve missed out on—the awkwardness, the fumbling around for things we have in common, even a slightly less-bloody meet-cute—and it fills me with rage that we’ll never have those.
We’ll never be able to tell sappy stories to the kids about how we met, and when Luca proposed, and how I cried when I saidyes, yes of course I’ll marry you.
And then Luca says to Nunzio: “Do me a favor, have a taste of this first. Let me know what it’s like?” He’s gesturing to the antipasto, our first course.
Nunzio gets this embarrassed, polite look and insists he could never intrude on our wedding feast.
“Perhaps I’m not making myself clear,” Luca says. “You’re going to taste everything before we eat it. And if you don’t do it, we’ll call your wife up from the kitchen, and she can taste it. And if you both refuse, I’m going to kill you.”
Nunzio gives a stupid little laugh, like he thinks Luca is kidding.
I stand up, making them both look to me. I love my fucking idiot husband down to the ground, no matter how much he tries to push me away, but there are some things that are just wrong. “Luca, sweetheart,” I chuckle. “Don’t kid around like that.” Luca and Nunzio both look at me like I’ve said something in Swahili. “Nunzio, he’s just messing around, but he’s got a terrible sense of humor. Better just leave us to it for now.”
I smile at the old man, my best smile, the autocratic one I inherited from Mom. People always did what she wanted, when she wanted, and she only ever commanded with a smile. Everyone talked about what a wonderful, charming woman she was.
Well, shewaswonderful and charming, but she was a manipulative mastermind on top of it. People obeyed her without question. And me? I learned her tricks early. She kept me with her as much as she could, and I don’t mind admitting I was a Mama’s boy. I can’t blame Maggie for hating me a little.
Nunzio goes out as fast as he can without tripping up, and Luca turns his ice-beams on me. I’m about to be put on blast.
Attack is the best form of defense, they say.
“Don’t,” I snap. “Don’t you dare talk to them like that. These people are just doing the best they can with their lives, husband of mine, and you don’t get to threaten them. If you want someone to taste your fucking food so bad, pass it over. Better me than you, right?”
Luca pushes back his chair and stalks close to me, but I don’t move. I can’t. If I give in now, he won’t ever take me seriously. And right now, I am fucking serious as the bullet that killed my mother. “No,” I say again, as he opens his mouth. “You don’t get to be an asshole to them. Take it out on me if you like, but you showthemsome respect.”
He glares so hard Ishouldbe dead if telekinesis was a thing. Luca is sizing me up, wondering if I’ll back down.
I don’t.
