After my father died. After we had nothing… because of the McCarthys. After she had to sacrifice everything.
I've heard it so many times I could recite every line and still, she never fails to make me feel guilty.
“I know,” I whisper against her shoulder, my throat tight. “Thank you. For everything.”
“Well.” She pulls back, smoothing her own dress. “Let's just hope it was all worth it.”
Marcus appears at my side, one arm sliding possessively around my waist. He's impeccably dressed, as usual. Pressed suit, crisp white shirt, no tie. Effortlessly handsome in that way that makes people stare.
I really should feel… lucky that he chose me. No, Idofeel lucky.
He's classically handsome in a way that makes women swoon… he's well-respected, gentlemanly, and successful. He practically dotes on my mother and me. I'll want for nothing as his wife. And best of all, he's a businessman, not… not some criminal. I promised myself I'd never marry someone who works with the mafia after what happened to my father.
Maybe I'm just getting cold feet or whatever.
“Congratulations, beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing my temple. His hand rests on my hip, his thumb stroking in small circles. It feels like a warning when it should be reassurance. I shiver and pull away, but he only moves closer.
Maybe something inside me's broken. Why do I suspect the motives of the two people who love me most?
“Ready to celebrate?”
“I suppose.”
He smiles in that effortless way of his. “My poor girl. I know it's a lot. Graduation, moving. You're overwhelmed. Try to be excited.”
Why does that feel so patronizing?
I should be excited, but all I can think about is tonight. Moving in, leaving my cat, Sir Lancelot, behind, and how going out to eat means every bite of food I put in my mouth is under scrutiny.
“Soon we'll get you sorted, and then you'll be absolutely perfect.”
Like I'm a project to be completed.
Isn't that what I should… want? To be better?
“Come on,” Mam says, linking her arm through mine. “We've got reservations at D'Agostino's in an hour. We don't want to be late.”
The restaurant'sone of Marcus's regulars, but somehow it feels different. More final. Like this is the last meal of my old life before everything changes.
Marcus orders grilled salmon and steamed vegetables for both of us, and I don't argue.
Conversations swirl around me. Aunt Anna gushes about the wedding. Mam talks about flowers and seating arrangements and whether we should have a string quartet. Marcus discusses his work, something about investments and portfolios that I tune out.
“You're awfully quiet, love,” Mam says, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. “Everything alright?”
“Just tired. It's been a long day.”
“Well, you'll get plenty of rest once you're settled in at Marcus's place. No more of that rickety old flat with the dodgy heating, hmm?”
Marcus'splace. Not our place. His.
“Aye.” I twirl the huge diamond on my finger. I don't mind the rickety old flat with dodgy heating, but I know I have to do this.
When the dessert menu arrives, Marcus waves it away before I can even look at it, as usual.
“She's moving in tonight,” he tells the waiter with an indulgent smile. “Wants to look her best.”
Heat floods my cheeks. I stare at my plate, at the half-eaten salmon I forced down, and try to breathe.
