No, I refuse to think about that man today. I’ve spent months trying to accept that he was only here out of obligation, and although it’s a harsh reality, it’s the truth I have to face. I’m having doubts because of him, and he’s not even here.
“Fuck it,” I whisper to myself, sliding out of my robe, and stepping into the floaty white dress that stops just before my knees, and somehow manage to zip it up without having to ask for any assistance.
“You ready in there? We’re all desperate to see you.” Iris knocks on my door.
“Just a second,” I call back at her, not quite ready to go out there and accept my fate. I need just a little more convincing that I want to be married to Greaser, and that I’m prepared to spend my future trying to love him. Perhaps once we have sex, I’ll feel different. I hope I do because I can’t stop this now. I’ve let it go on for far too long. I fan my face with my hand to try and stop my tears from spilling. Freya’s worked hard on my make-up, and if I ruin it, everyone out there is gonna doubt that this is what I want.
The door knocks again, this time much louder. I feel it in my chest, pounding to the throb of my heartbeat and making me want to scream.
“Just a minute.” I snap back at the persistent old woman who is about to become my mother-in-law, and move over to my dresser. Resting my palms on its surface, I drop my head between my arms and try to take some calming breaths. The woman clearly ignores me, ripping it open so roughly it sounds as if it’s gonna come off its hinges, and when I spin on my feet, ready to tell Iris I need more time, I gasp in shock when I see who’s standing in front of me.
“Vike?” I stare him over, wondering if I passed out and hit my head too hard.
“Alicia, what are you doing?” He closes the door and quickly comes toward me, taking my arms in his hands like he wants to shake me. His eyes widen with shock of his own when he looks down between us and sees how much I’ve grown since he last saw me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, the tears flowing down my face now are from relief; just having him in front of me makes me feel like everything is going to be okay.
“Do you love him?” he asks, looking as if my answer could hurt him, but that makes no sense. If he cared about me being in love with Greaser, he would never have left.
“You left. You promised you wouldn’t, and youleft.” My heart is beating too fast. There's so much I want to say to him. How is it possible for me to want to punch him and kiss him, all at the same time?
“Answer my question, Alicia,” I watch him swallow, his jaw tensing while he waits for my answer, and his grip on me getting tighter. Slowly, I shake my head, and his shoulders sag with relief as he closes his eyes.
“Then why thefuckare you marrying him?” he comes back at me fiercely, sliding his hand up to my face and stroking my tears away with his thumb. It feels so different from how it does when Greaser does the same; the warmth it spreads inside me is familiar and comforting, there’s no dread or regret
“Becausehelovesme,” I answer. Wishing that this man in front of me could do the same. “If you came here to talk me out of th–”
“We need to have that talk.” He smiles at me. “The one we never got round to; the one I tried avoiding because I was too fuckin’ scared.” He leans forward, still caressing my cheek as his forehead presses into mine and he inhales me through his nostrils.
“Vike,” I whisper against his lips; they’re so close to mine, I can feel his breath.
“I’m in love with you, Alicia,” he tells me softly. “I have been for a while. I’ve held back, done what I thought was right, and been too fuckin’ scared to tell you.” He laughs at himself, letting out a long, relieved sigh, as if holding in the words has been a heavy burden. “Don’t marry him,” he begs in a gentle whisper.
“Wait.” I force him away before I kiss him and get distracted from what he’s telling me.
“If you love me, why did you leave?” None of what he’s saying makes sense.
“Because you chose him; it was more than I could bear to think of you together in that motel room. Ever since Saul died and I moved in here, it’s kinda felt like you belonged to me. I convinced myself that I couldn’t get over it, but I can. I wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t.”
“Vike, nothing happened in that hotel room.” I shake my head.
“But you agreed to marry him.” Vike looks every bit as confused as I am.
“I agreed to marry Greaser when I figured you weren’t coming back. I’ve been trying so hard to make myself feel something for him, but–” I stop myself and take a breath.
“But…?” Vike smiles, placing his hand on my hip and drawing me back as close to him as my body will allow.
“It's always been you, Vike,” I admit, staring up at the man in front of me and wondering how the hell we wasted so much time. He grabs my face in both his hands and kisses me with so much hunger and passion that my legs start to wobble.
“Fuck, that feels good.” He breathes out against my mouth.
“Vike…” I push him back for a second time, “...I’m supposed to be getting married today,” I remind him, knowing that on the other side of the door will be a group of very confused women.
“Well, I think we’ve just established that that ain’t gonna happen.” He smiles, looking down between us and stroking my belly. “She’s grown…a lot.”
“Vike!” I snap him out of the dreamy state he’s in. “What are we gonna do?” I need him to focus; everything’s such a mess. As elated as I am that he shares the same feelings for me as I do him, this is going to crush Greaser, and after all he’s done for me, the last thing I want to do is hurt him.
“You ain’t gonna do anything.” He uses his finger to slide away the strand of hair that’s dropped from Freya’s up-do onto my forehead. “I’ll go talk to Greaser, explain how things are gonna be from now on.”
