Chapter Eight
Sienna
“People don’t make physical photo albums anymore.”
I hear my mother say as I step in from the kitchen with three glasses of milk on a tray and a plate of cookies. She and Jude are seated on the sofa, flipping through our old photo album so I place the tray on the table and jump onto the big comfy sofa, nestling between them.
"What are you looking at?" I ask, dropping my head on my mother's lap, smiling when she strokes my hair as she used to when I was a little girl.
“I was just telling your brother here how people stopped making photo albums. Instead, they just take pictures and post them on Facebook for everyone to see.”
“God, Mom, you’re so old. What the hell is a Facebook?
” That comment earns my brother a playful slap on the shoulder but he escapes as he reaches over to grab a glass of milk and a cookie.
“We’re in the era of the internet, mother.
If you lose these pictures, they’re gone for good but the internet lives forever. ”
"It's just not the same," she muses, turning to the photo album and something flickers on her face, a pained look that is gone just as fast as it arrives.
I follow her eyes to the picture she's staring at and feel a tug in my chest when I see it's one from her wedding.
She's holding a bouquet, a bright smile on her face as she and my father exchange a look filled with so much affection that it ought to be private.
“Dad looks handsome here,” I point out, reaching for her hand to comfort her. “Did you know you wanted to marry him the day you met?”
The question draws a laugh from her and I read humor in her eyes when she turns to look at me. “Oh no. Your father forbade me from telling this story to you kids but since he's not here…"
“He’s here in spirit,” Jude says in a mouthful of cookies, earning a glare from Mom.
“Do you want the story or not?"
“Tell me,” I say, squeezing her hand. “I want to hear about how you and Dad met."
“Your father and I went to the same high school but I had a crush on his best friend,” she starts, giggling when my eyes widen in shock.
“So when he found out that I liked his best friend, he offered to help me ask my crush out. He suggested practice dates since I’d never gone out with anyone before. ”
I gasp. “No, he didn’t!”
“Yes, he did,” she laughs. “So I let him take me out on several dates, as practice, of course, but the whole time, he was wooing me. It took until the fourth date to realize what he was doing. When I finally confronted him, he didn’t even bother denying it.”
“So, what happened?” Jude chimes, clearly invested.
“What do you think? I felt cheated so I stormed out of the date, swore I was never talking to him again, cursing myself for letting some high school jock deceive me.” Mischief glimmers in her eyes and I can almost see her travel to that day decades ago.
“Anyway, I’m walking to the bus station, fuming, when your father runs after me, slinging his coat over my shoulders and talking about taking me home.
Then it starts raining, right then and there. ”
“But it never rains in Vegas,” I mutter.
"It did that night and it was magical," she says with a sigh. "We kissed in the rain and I knew right then and there that I would marry him.”
We turn to pictures of us as babies, drink milk and cookies as we chat about the past. And when the conversation touches on Dad, my heart isn’t as heavy. The memory of his kind eyes and genuine smile doesn’t send a sharp pain in my stomach like it used to.
The conversation shifts to the wedding happening tomorrow and I can’t help but smile at the memory of Pope’s scowl when I told him I would be spending the night with my family.
He wasn’t pleased by the idea of separation but I was adamant about maintaining the tradition of the groom waiting to see the bride at the ceremony.
A ceremony I wasn’t sure would happen.
It’s been three weeks since the accident and the wedding dress fiasco, and a part of me has been bracing for another incident but so far, nothing major has happened.
Well, nothing to raise any major flags anyway.
Still, it doesn't stop me from worrying.
Heck, it doesn't stop Pope from worrying or else, he wouldn't have asked his most trusted man, Ghost, to keep watch of my building from a car outside until morning. I try to push down the guilt of having Ghost out there in the cold but Pope refused to back down about my protection and Ghost didn’t seem to mind guarding us all night.
"Tomorrow, I'll add another picture to this album." Mom's expression softens and I watch as she closes the book with a gentle sigh before turning to touch the wedding band she still wears on her finger. "I can’t believe my baby is getting married.”
Jude groans in his teenage dramatic way, slapping a hand over his eyes. "Don't open the flood gates, mom. You've been sobbing about this all week."
“I can cry all I want,” she scolds playfully, nudging my head off her lap and she gets to her feet. “I’m going to bed, you should too if you don’t want to show up at your own wedding with bags under your eyes. And Jude, don’t forget to take your meds.”
“I know. I know.”
She rolls her eyes at us but I spot the smile on her lips as he disappears down the hall to her bedroom.
Once she’s gone, I clear the table and settle back down on the sofa and put on a movie for Jude and me to watch but the credits have barely rolled when Jude turns to me with a serious look on his face that gives me a bad start.
“What?” I ask defensively.
“You’re getting married tomorrow.”
“Um…yeah?”
“To Pope Cassidy. One of the wealthiest and scariest dudes in all of Vegas.”
“Yes, and…”
"Do you really want me to believe that you've been dating Pope in secret and just decided to get married?"
I start to speak but no sound comes out so I close my mouth. There is an easy lie on the tip of my tongue, one I have kept to placate my family and shield them from any guilt but one look at my brother’s eyes and I can tell he’s not going to buy it this time. “Look, Jude—”
Suddenly, his arms around mine, his head on my shoulder.
I’ve never known Jude to be a hugger—something to do with teenagers being allergic to those—which makes the moment even more surprising.
“I don’t know how you got into this situation, but I know you did it for me,” he whispers into my shoulder, his voice heavy with emotion.
“I saw the bills in mom’s room. She thinks putting things in the bottom drawer is hiding them but I saw the medical bills, debt in the tens of thousands and…
” his voice comes off strangled but he clears it off.
“I don’t like that I am putting so much burden on you and mom. I mean, what’s the point of living—”
“Don't!” I hiss, grabbing my brother's shoulders and pushing him back so my eyes are on his.
Some of the venom dies when I find his eyes wet.
"Don't even think about it," I say, softly this time.
“You are not a burden, Jude. This sickness could happen to anyone. Are you going to tell me that you would have let me or Mom give up if one of us fell sick?”
“But–”
“Answer me.”
“No,” he deflates.
“So, no, you're not a burden and Pope…well, maybe I did tell a little white lie, but I…”
“You love him,” he says, reading me perfectly.
“And he loves you too. I saw it at the engagement party," he adds before I can argue his point. “When he wasn’t watching me to make sure I didn’t get sick and fall over, his eyes were on you. He smiled when you smiled and frowned when you did. He looks at you the way Dad looked at Mom.”
I flush at the image, feeling giddy at the prospect of Pope returning my affection. “He makes me happy.”
“I know,” he says, wiping his tears. “You look the happiest when you’re with him. And Mom’s noticed it too. She’s happy you have him now, we both are.”
“Good, now let’s table this. Mom doesn’t need to know about this, okay?”
“She’ll figure it out someday,” he warns. “But until then, my lips are sealed. I just want you to know that when I get better and start working, I’m going to pay Pope back every penny we owe him.”
“Pope will not accept your money, Jude. This is not a loan.”
“But—”
“Just think of this as a fresh start, a second lease on life,” I offer, patting his cheek. “You have the best doctors money can buy and you don't have to worry about mom and me or feel guilty about anything. Just live your life and be healthy, that is the only way you can thank us.”
I see the tears well back in his eyes but he tosses his head back and blinks them back. “Okay,” he chokes out. “I need to stop crying. Can’t walk you down the aisle tomorrow with bags under my eyes.”
“Good idea,” I laugh, pulling him back into another embrace and if I cry a little too, it’s only fair after everything we’ve been through.
My chest is lighter as we go our separate ways to bed.
Even lighter as I get ready for bed, placing a hand over my belly and biting down a smile.
Another little white lie I’m keeping from my family but I couldn't tell them the pregnancy news before I tell Pope and I'm hoping to do so on our wedding night. I can’t wait to see his face when I break the news. Will he be shocked? Happy?
I’m giggling when I slip into bed, tempted to call Pope just to hear his voice but decide against it. I’m not sure I’ll be able to resist it this time if he offers to come over and see me. No, we have to wait until tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
I close my eyes with a happy smile on my lips, slowly slipping into the dark but I'm barely in it when something wakes me up. I start to groan then my eyes snap open when I realize that I can’t make a sound or open my mouth…
“Sshh!” a voice hisses in the dark, seconds before I see the black and silver of a gun pointed at my face. I stare at the barrel, my chest heaving as panic floods me. Is this a robbery? Christ, on the night before my wedding?