27. Gwen
“All right, that’s enough.”
Ana’s voice is a shock to my system. I’ve been sitting in silence organizing the closet for what must be hours. All socks have been turned right side out and paired. Charlie’s shirts are organized by sleeve length and color. All of my pants have been put on those fancy pants-specific hangers with the clips. It’s been a productive day.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder as I pull all my t-shirts out of a drawer and start refolding them.
I saw a video where someone stacked them on their side in the dresser so they could see all their options. Hence, the inspiration for today’s reorganization.
“You’re soothing your anxiety by cleaning and organizing. It’s your M.O.,” she replies in her teenage attitude voice.
I wish she was wrong.
I don’t even really know why I’m tense. It’s not like I have some sort of decision to make. As much as I’m pissed at Charlie about not telling me about the council vote, I’m not going back on my word. We’re in this together, and we’ll get through this.
Maybe it’s because I haven’t seen Charlie make any effort toward resolving things between us. It’s not like I want him to put on a show, but some sign that he realizes he hurt me and will attempt to change would be nice.
There’s been this pit growing in my stomach every day since we got back from Italy. Because what if he doesn’t address it? What if he’s fine acting like this forever—just two objects floating around each other? What if he loves me, and he’s fine with loving like this?
After everything that’s happened, it seems impossible. But I’ve only known him for six months. People aren’t always what they seem, no matter how much I wish differently.
“I’m not anxious about your appointment, you know that, right?” I ask, trying to stack the shirts like the video said and watching them fall over and crumple in the drawer.
“Oh, I know,” she responds, grabbing a pile of sports bras from the ground and tossing them in a drawer. “You’re mad at Charlie and it’s making you all Martha Stewart.”
I really didn’t think I was fooling Ana. She knows me too well to miss when I’m avoiding the only other person we live with.
“You don’t need to worry about that,” I say, shoving the shirts in a drawer and giving up.
Whatever, they’re at least all folded now. An improvement.
“I’m not worried.” Her smile is almost triumphant. “I’m part of the solution.”
I raise my eyebrows at her, but all she does is smile that big, ridiculous smile at me.
“You’re not responsible for my and Charlie’s relationship,” I start to argue, but she just shakes her head and plops her hands on my shoulders, maintaining that grin.
“I am merely a supporting role in today’s activities. Now please go shower and shave your legs,” she directs, dragging me out of the closet and toward the bathroom. While I stand in the middle of the room, she turns the water on and hunts for my curling iron.
“Why do I need to shave my legs?” I ask, leaning against the counter. There’s a little bubble of hope in my chest that I’m trying to squash in the name of self preservation.
“I mean you don’t need to, but I think you’d be happier if you did,” she says, yanking my makeup bag from under the sink and pawing through it.
“You’re not going to tell me what’s going on?” I hate surprises, I really do.
“You’re going to figure it out in like an hour, so just chill. Also, tell me where your dry shampoo is.”
A half hour later, my legs are in fact shaved, and Ana’s wrangled my slightly oily hair into pretty waves. While I was in the shower, she seemed to get herself together as well. I’ve never seen the dress she’s wearing—it’s pale gold and covered in a pretty floral pattern. It looks lovely on her.
The pit in my stomach has turned into a black hole of nausea. I feel my nails dig into the skin of my arms as Ana finishes my makeup.
“Ana...” I start as she lets me look in the mirror. This can’t be happening. I didn”t ask for this. I didn’t need this much.
“Just take a deep breath and accept it, okay?” Ana murmurs, like she’s comforting me. That’s not her job.
But maybe, just this once, I’ll let her.
Ana hands me a garment bag that I’m terrified to open. I breathe out a sigh of relief when crimson red, not white, fabric spills out as I open the zipper. It’s simple, sleek satin and tea-length. When she helps me slip it over my head, Ana murmurs, knew it.
My heart is beating so hard I don’t have the capacity to ask questions. Ana seems to have everything completely under control, though. She hands me shoes, makes sure I have my phone, says my purse is already in the car. It’s like I’m floating through space, unable to think further than the next step in front of me.
When we walk out the front door, Zane and Kenzie are waiting by the sedan.
“Oh fuck,” I finally whisper, and Ana laughs behind me.
“Yeah, I thought that might be your reaction,” Kenzie says as Zane opens the back door. She slides in and holds her hand out to me. “I’ve got shooters, don’t worry.”
The entire drive to wherever the hell we’re going, I can’t speak. I’m worried about what will come out if I do. Where are we going? Take me home. Is this real? Do I want this? God, I hope I’m wrong. Please, please, please let me be right.
When we pull up to the county courthouse, I know I’m right. There’s a buzzing under my skin and I feel lightheaded. Kenzie and Ana are gripping one of my hands each, and I can feel my palms slick against theirs.
“Zane, don’t move,” Kenzie orders, and he holds his hands in the air before activating the divider between the front seats and us.
Kenzie turns to me, fucking gorgeous in her champagne silk dress and bright red lipstick, so serious as she stares in my eyes.
“If you don’t want to be here, just say the word, and we’ll force Zane at gunpoint to drive us off into the sunset.” She doesn’t seem like she’s exaggerating. She’d do it for me.
“Charlie said to tell you he said fuck the vote, whatever that means,” Ana says, leaning her head against my shoulder.
Fuck the vote. We’re at this courthouse, and he doesn’t care about the vote. My hands are shaking, my pulse so quick it”s making my breathing shallow.
He told me he wouldn”t let them say no. And I have no idea how much a certificate means to The Syndicate, but he’s making one thing clear. He won’t be separated from me easily.
“This is nuts,” I whisper, and Kenzie pops a brief kiss on my forehead.
“Yeah, but crazy things happen when you love someone.”
Ana taps on the divider, and it’s only a few moments before Zane’s opening our doors. Ana and Kenzie slide out, and I take a deep breath. It doesn”t slow my heart.
Peripherally, I take in everything around me when I step out of the car. The pretty Greek columns framing the stairs to the courthouse. Sammy and Catalina, also dressed in shades of white and gold, smiling at me from the stairs. The bustle of people just going about their day, doing their jobs. But I can’t help but stare at Charlie.
It’s not what he’s wearing—though I could ogle at him for the rest of my life, with those tattoos peaking over his all-black suit. It’s the way he’s looking at me. He’s letting me see everything. All his guilt, and his joy, and not one single drop of hesitation.
Ana and Kenzie join Sam and Catalina, and I guess I’ve made it clear I’m rooted to the spot I’m standing, because Charlie comes to me.
“I may have gone a little extreme on the show you part.” He says the words against my skin as he presses his lips to my cheek. It’s the first time he’s touched me like that since Italy, and it burns in my veins.
“Just a little,” I whisper, not trusting my voice.
He smiles at me, and he doesn”t put his wall back up. I see it when the nerves filter through his expression.
“I told Kenzie to give you an out, but I’m going to say it again,” he starts, clearing his throat and lacing my fingers through his. “If you don’t want to do this, I will never hold it against you. We can go home and talk this out like rational adults.”
He seems to steady himself, holding on to me like a life raft in a storm. My heart is in my throat, and I’m trying really hard not to ruin the makeup Ana so patiently did for me.
“I love you, Guinevere.” The words soothe something in me, settling like a chord falling into harmony, like a piano being tuned. My pulse slows into an even rhythm, but I can still feel my heartbeat in my fingertips. “And even though I meant it when I said I’d never let the council refuse us, and I know you’ll thrive in my family, I wanted to give you proof. That I’d choose you over my The Syndicate. That you are my fate, mia filettatura, my thread. Ever since I saw you in that alley, I knew I was tied to you. And I’d like to remain that way, in every form possible.”
There’s so much joy in his eyes. So much vulnerability. He’s looking at me like I really am his fate, like he can’t imagine his life without me. I pull my hands from his and place them around the back of his neck, feeling the soft, steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and I know it’s the same for me. That I want us to be wrapped around each other, hands and hearts and futures, for as long as humanly possible. He swallows hard against my palms.
“Carlo Costa, did you bring me here to marry you?” I ask, pressing up on my toes and ghosting a kiss over his lips. He closes his eyes, chasing me as I pull away.
“I did,” he says, settling for a kiss on my forehead. “But I have to warn you, I’m fairly certain my sister and father will put me in an early grave if we don’t do a big wedding in Trani as well.”
And as lovely as that sounds—the big wedding surrounded by the people we love in a beautiful place—this is even better. Because this is for us. Not The Syndicate. Not the contract. Not to fulfill an agreement.
But for two people with their souls tied together.
“You can talk me into that later,” I mutter, finally pulling him down to press my lips to his.
I’ve missed the feeling of his hands against my hips, the soft hum he makes when I open my mouth for him, the warmth and comfort and stability of Charlie holding me, knowing he’s never once thought about letting me go.
“I could kiss you in front of this county municipal building forever, but we do have an appointment to make,” he says, still placing small kisses on my lips like he can’t quite seem to separate himself.
“Okay,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around his middle and burying my head against chest. “Let’s go get married.”
He unwinds my arms from around him and pulls me by the hand toward the stairs and columns. He’s thrilled. To marry me.
“Charlie,” I say, planting my feet and tugging on him to stop. When he turns around, his grin is so wide it’s got to hurt. I’ve never felt less like a means to an end in my entire life. “I love you, too.”
We sign a shocking amount of paperwork, pay our fees, and wait in line with the people we love, laughing and talking. There’s not a moment where Charlie lets go of my hand.
When it’s our turn, we file into a dimly lit room, Ana standing next to me and Zane next to Charlie. We repeat the vows the judge dictates. Charlie reaches into his pocket and pulls out a long, red thread, tying one end around the ring finger of my right hand.
“From your dress in Trani,” he whispers so only I, and maybe the judge, can hear. “Ana insisted you’d want to pick out your own ring, anyway.”
I can’t respond, because if I do, I know I’ll cry again. So when the judge tells me to, I tie the other end of the thread around Charlie’s ring finger.
And right before he kisses me, for the first time as my husband, he whispers my thread against my lips.