Chapter 50
CHAPTER FIFTY
E MERALD
Saint has persuaded me to return to the Shoplifters Anonymous group, although I didn’t take much convincing. I was ashamed of the onesie incident and then being arrested, so I missed a few meetings recently, but it’s something I’ve been wanting to go back to.
I’m keen to return. Because I realize that this isn’t something I can overcome by myself or that’ll be a quick fix. Saint was right when he said I need the support of other people going through the same thing.
I’m also still doing my bookkeeping course. Even with the baby coming, I’m determined to keep on with it and get some qualifications in case something happens to the boutique one day. I need to have a proper fallback in life instead of just relying on a closetful of stolen dresses.
I know I’ll have the income from the boutique now, plus Saint says he’s wealthy enough that I’ll never have to work, but I’m making sure that I’ve got a backup plan. The thought of having useful skills is making me worry less about running out of money, and hopefully, that will all help in my quest to stop stealing.
This evening, I’m back sitting in the circle with Amanda and the others. I keep the chessboard keychain gripped tightly in my fist, liking the reassuring feel of it as I listen. People are going around and telling their stories, and eventually, Amanda turns to Saint for his turn.
“Saint, do you feel ready to share your story with us today?”
“I, um…” His reply comes out in a stutter.
I’ve decided that if I’m going to come to these meetings, he’s coming with me— because he definitely has more than a few issues . I dig a sharp elbow into his ribs.
“Okay, okay,” he growls under his breath at me. “So, my name’s Saint, and…I, er, sometimes, steal, um, cereal...”
“Who do you steal them from?” Amanda asks, her brow slightly furrowed in confusion.
“From children,” I reply when he doesn’t say anything, leading to a shocked murmur rippling around the entire circle.
A deafening silence engulfs the room.
A woman slides her purse closer to her body and grabs onto it with a death grip.
Amanda starts clutching at her pearls.
And Saint shoots me a scowl.
Okay, maybe I wasn’t supposed to share that detail, but it just slipped out.
And then I can’t help myself as I proceed to recount the entire incident at the grocery store and Saint’s part in it as he continues to stare at me with an open mouth. I mean, he does steal cereal—and money and lives—so I’m hoping these sessions are going to be just as beneficial for him as they are for me.
“Oh my,” Amanda gasps, clapping a hand to her chest. “You really do need help, don’t you, Saint? But don’t worry, dear, we’re all in this journey with you, and we’ll be with you every step of the way.”
Saint starts to talk a bit about how his parents died when he was young and how he does a ‘few illegal things’ from time to time, and a couple of the others comment how their childhood also caused some of their issues. And I can see Saint really listening to them and taking in what they’re saying. Even though he’ll never say out loud the really bad things he does, I get the feeling that this group is the sort of non-judgmental place he needs to unload a few of his demons.
Later, when we leave the meeting, Saint turns to me. “About your little stunt in there?—”
I interrupt him. “You’ve known all along that I’m a terrible liar. I had to answer Amanda when she asked that question. Because, you know, I couldn’t lie by omission.”
“I know me attending with you makes you feel more comfortable coming to these meetings, so I’ll support you in any way I can—even if it means that people will be thinking that I like to steal from kids.”
I send a glowing smile his way. “And that’s why I love you so much, Saint. Because you accept me just the way I am and because you always want to support me.”
He smiles back at me before giving me a long, deep kiss.
I sigh. “You know, Saint, there’s nothing sexier than a man who’ll go to a therapy group with me.” And as we slip into his car, I tell him to break the speed limit to get us home because I already have the rest of our night all planned out.
* * *
The following week, we’re having dinner when Saint slides a ring box across the table to me.
I frown. “What’s this?”
“Your engagement ring. I thought I’d get it cleaned for you before the wedding.” We’ve decided to finally tie the knot, but this wedding is going to be very different to the first one.
“So, that’s why I couldn’t find it this morning.” I take it out of the box and slip it onto my ring finger.
“By the way, I do know that this is a lab-created diamond worth only a minuscule fraction of what you charged on my Amex. And that the ring money and the poker money ended up in the pockets of a charity.”
I open my mouth and snap it shut. Oh shit, I’m sooo bad at lying. I should have known I’d get found out.
And he starts laughing—which is totally not the reaction I’m expecting, especially from a man like him. “You’re something else, you know that, Emerald Fiorelli? People might call you a gold digger, but I reckon the only shiny thing about you is your heart of gold.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I hardly have a heart of gold. I’ve got a history of stealing from other people, remember?”
“Okay, you have issues, but you also have a heart of gold when it really counts —like looking after your siblings when they need you and helping other people too whenever the opportunity arises. And that’s why I love you so very much…”
* * *
It’s warmer here than I expected for this time of year, and it lends itself well to the blush off-the-shoulder dress I’m wearing. Some might say it’s a pale gold color, but the tag definitely described it as Bronzed Blush.
It’s nowhere near as traditional as the last wedding dress, but I’ve never been more thankful. That dress wasn’t me . It was some version of me I thought I needed to be . But this dress? This one is all me. The sparkles, the short skirt, and the sassy bow. Although it’s definitely not stolen—because Saint might just kill me if it was.
A small smile tugs at my lips. It’s unorthodox, and I can already hear the gossipmongers back home talking up a storm about this—about me in my gold dress marrying Saint in an Elvis-themed Vegas chapel. But this is Saint and me. We’re not the traditional kind of couple by any stretch of the imagination. It just felt right to have our wedding like this.
Heading inside the chapel in the heart of the Strip, we find Christian is already there with Jaspar. Christian’s younger sister, Anni, has also come to Vegas for the wedding, and she has her big white fluffy cat tucked under her arm. Her husband, Lorenzo Marchiano, is nowhere to be seen. “Do you think Lorenzo has had enough of Anni’s cat-crazy ways and decided to divorce her?” Jacquetta says to me with a giggle, and I can’t help but grin.
“Not thinking of disappearing?” Saint asks me.
I look up at him as his arm circles around me, his hand resting on the slight mound of my stomach. “Well, now that you mention it, I heard someone say there was an all-you-can-eat nachos place nearby, and I think that sounds like a better use of my time…” I start giggling, and he laughs too.
This, right here. This feeling that’s fizzing inside me is the sole reason I know this is going to work. This weird and messed up love story between this man and me is going to be just fine. “You’re sure you’re okay with this, Saint?”
He kisses my exposed shoulder and then my neck. “There’s no better way I can think of to get married to you, Em, than in front of some guy dressed up like Elvis. It’s got Emerald written all over it.”
I giggle as I squeeze his hands resting on my lower stomach. “Good. I couldn’t go through another big wedding like the last one.”
“Nor me.” Saint kisses my cheek before stepping back. “Okay, ready?”
“More than ever.”
He gives me a lingering look, and I see that solid shell of his melting away to give me a peek of that heart which is still mending beneath. This is the Saint I’ve come to know. The man who loves deeply. And without realizing it, a man who gives me a beautiful kind of love by accepting me just the way I am. I smile up at him. “I love that you see the real me. Not Emerald, the daughter of a thief. Not Emerald, the daughter of an escort. Not Emerald, the shoplifter. But just Emerald, plain and simple.”
“No one could ever call you plain and simple,” he says dryly.
And I laugh out loud. “But you know you wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Absolutely.”
Saint goes to stand at the head of the aisle. Jaspar bounces excitedly at his side in a little tux that matches Saint’s. The music starts. Saint asked me to let him choose it, and I don’t know what I was expecting, but when Elvis’s Can't Help Falling In Love comes on, I feel tears well up. For a man who claims to be hopeless at the emotional stuff, he’s done good. Real good.
Milena moves to stand in front of me with a smile as Giulietta scampers down the aisle and sprinkles pink glitter by the handful as she goes.
I wince just thinking about the cleanup. I tried to persuade her to scatter petals, but as soon as she wrinkled her cute little nose and demanded that she be allowed to sprinkle glitter, Saint immediately gave in to her and told the chapel he’d pay for the cleanup and give them a large extra sum on top of that.
Milena turns to me, a soft expression on her face. And it’s one that smooths over some of the ongoing tension between us. “Ready, Em?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
She flashes me a small thumbs up before walking down the aisle, trying to avoid the puddles of pink glitter—Giulietta’s gone overboard with how much of the stuff she’s chucked over the floor.
With one last deep breath, I walk down the aisle, knowing everyone’s eyes are on me. But my gaze is locked with Saint’s, and his lips tug up as I stand before him.
Elvis starts the ceremony by doing a hip swing, making everyone laugh. Saint’s hand clasps mine, thumb brushing the back of my hand as I feel more tears. Happy tears.
Before the ceremony goes any further, Jaspar makes Saint swear on the Bible that he won't steal any Lucky Charms from him ever again. This was the only way we could convince Jaspar that this wedding was a good idea.
Saint raises his right hand. “I solemnly declare that I’ll never steal a box of cereal from Jaspar Fiorelli ever again, so help me God and Elvis.”
Laughter ripples around the room, and Elvis gives a nod of approval.
Saint gives me a wink. “Can we get on now with the goddamn wedding?” he murmurs under his breath.
And I can’t help a giggle. And unlike last time, I smile the entire ceremony, my eyes never straying from Saint’s even when they blur with tears. For a coldhearted man, the way he talks to me during the vows, the way he speaks about me making him a better person and a better man, warms me in a way I haven’t felt before.
“By the powers vested in me, it’s time to get all shook up and lay a big ol' smooch on your hunka burnin' love! You may now kiss the bride!"
I laugh out loud as Saint cups my face, tugging me toward him and claiming my mouth. My fingers curl into his suit lapel as his body heat consumes me, and whistles and cheers from our small group of family and friends fill the space.
But all I can focus on is the way Saint’s smoke and spice envelopes me. The way his lips feel against mine. The tender way he’s holding me.
Every nerve, every cell and atom in my body, is alive and sparking.
And it’s all because of him .