Chapter 8 Raven
EIGHT
RAVEN
I did my best to push last night’s voyeurism out of my mind. It was simply a result of a long, stressful day. There was no other explanation.
A sparkle caught my eye and my steps faltered as I stared at the eternity diamond band on my finger.
My heartbeat tripped ominously. Eternity wasn’t the word I preferred in this scenario. I’d very much like to forget the vows I made and move past this disaster of an arrangement.
No girl dreamed of this. I would have been perfectly fine never to love or marry after witnessing firsthand the impact “love” had had on my mom.
Yet here I was, married to an Irish mobster.
I gulped, the realization slowly sinking into my bones. Holy crap, I’m married to a mobster.
I was now no longer Raven Croft, but Raven Callahan.
At least my initials won’t change, I thought for no good reason, and maybe that was proof that I hadn’t come to grips with my predicament. Maybe I could figure out a way out before Mom or my friends learned of this.
My phone chimed, signaling a message, and I unlocked it. I stared at the messages in our group chat. My best friends and I had kept it going all through our boarding school years, and I didn’t think I was being dramatic when I said it had saved me countless times.
The most recent message had come from Athena, who was currently babysitting her own mother.
Athena: Is this summer over already? I’m so ready for Paris.
I chewed on my bottom lip. I was beyond ready for Paris too, nothing had changed on that front, but there were now even more obstacles in my way. On top of being unemployed and newly married, I was entangled with criminals.
Rather than type out a novel and admit to the girls how much my life had gone off the rails, I settled for a vague response. My ego couldn’t take another hit.
Me: Yeah, me too.
Reina: I think we’re all ready to spread our wings.
Phoenix:
My brows knitted at Phoenix’s strange response, but before I could question it, my phone pinged again.
Isla: Paris won’t be able to handle us. BTW, my brother hooked us up with a sweet deal. An apartment in the 5th arrondissement. He’s insisting on covering it while we’re in college so we can keep some pocket money. Translation… shopping!!
A breath swished out of my lungs at the news. Yesterday, that little detail would have made me exhilarated, but today, it left a bitter taste in my mouth. I had bigger problems at hand.
Namely, Aiden.
Exiting the group chat, I continued on my path of finding my husband. Now that I knew he was forced into this arrangement as well, and clearly he wasn’t thrilled about the marriage, maybe I could convince him of alternatives. The two of us could agree on separation and then ultimately a divorce.
Good plan, I thought, and suddenly, I had a purpose. Now, if I could just find my brand-spanking-new husband.
I went from room to room, even discovered a gym, only to learn the penthouse was empty. When I got to the kitchen, I spotted a note on the counter.
Feel free to explore the penthouse. I won’t be long. A.
“So much for discussing a divorce over coffee,” I muttered, disappointment washing over me.
I didn’t particularly care that he’d left before showing me around, but it irked me that he didn’t even bother with a proper goodbye. Maybe because it proved my mom’s lesson right yet again. Men couldn’t be trusted to follow through with anything.
I exhaled, rolling my eyes at the ridiculousness of it all, then crossed my arms. I’d do well to remember that none of this was real. And anyway, my mom had taught me well: lower your expectations when it comes to men and you won’t get hurt.
I stood barefoot in the middle of the kitchen, debating what to do. I could go check on my mother, if only I had something to wear. I still only had Aiden’s T-shirt and boxers, and while New York was home to some weird shit, I didn’t think my wardrobe would go unnoticed.
“Maybe I’ll just call her,” I said to the empty room, then dialed her up.
The ringing went on and on, and just as I was about to hang up, my mom’s voice came through the line.
“Hello, baby.”
I smiled despite hearing a slight slur. I was used to it by now, and while I preferred her sober, I knew she was doing her best. My mom was a functioning alcoholic who loved me and did her best to provide for me.
She worked a string of menial jobs over the years—cleaning, restocking shelves, being a janitor—keeping us afloat even as we moved place to place while she fought her own demons.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Where are you, Raven?”
I chewed on my bottom lip. I didn’t want to upset her, and I was fairly certain dumping on her what had happened would send her spiraling. So, I settled for half-truths.
“I spent the night at a… friend’s house.”
“I didn’t think your friends lived close by.”
My mom might be drunk a lot, and I might have spent more time away at boarding school than here the last few years, but she always had a finger on the pulse when it came to my life.
She knew Athena was my oldest friend, that we’d met at school and clicked instantly.
And that a few years later, Isla, Phoenix, and Reina completed our small circle of ride-or-die friendship.
I quickly changed the subject. “Do you need me to stop at the store?”
Mom let out a tired breath. “Sometimes I wonder how you turned out to be so thoughtful.”
“Duh, I got it from you,” I said. “Clearly.”
“Not sure about that,” she mumbled, almost to herself. “But you certainly didn’t get it from your father.”
I stilled, surprised she’d brought him up.
“He was selfish, then,” I said softly, tentatively.
“Among many other things, yes.”
“You so rarely talk about him,” I pointed out.
“There’s not much to say.” While that was the understatement of the century, she did open the door. And I had no intention of missing the opportunity to find out more.
“Do I ever, um, remind you of him?”
“Hm, no. You’re more like me. My twin, really.” There was a reason people often mistook her for my big sister, and it sounded like that extended beyond our physical looks. When she was looking after herself, that was. “You do have a knack for trouble, which you definitely got from him.”
“Hmmm.”
“Baby, our time in New York City is coming to an end.”
I stiffened. “Already?”
“Yes, we have to keep moving. It’s the only way to stay safe.”
For as long as I could remember, we’d been on the move. Never in one place longer than two years.
“Don’t you think it’s time we stopped running?” I rasped.
“No, because the moment we lower our guard and settle is the moment we’re dead.” I sighed, but before I could comment, she continued. “You remember what I told you when we moved here, right?”
My brows knitted. “Remind me?”
“If something should ever happen, you’ll find everything you need in that P.O. box I showed you in Brooklyn. You didn’t forget about it, did you?”
“No, I didn’t forget.”