14. Lucy
Lucy
“ W e’ll be out here if you need anything.” Luca gives me a big, twisted smile. The other guards are all rough-looking and miserable, but at least he seems alright.
“Thanks for the ride, but really, you don’t need to stay.”
“Boss’s orders.” Luca leans back against the fence and gives a hard look at the sidewalk. “Let me know if you need a hand.”
“Sure,” I murmur as I head into my childhood home.
For maybe the last time.
It feels strange stepping in through the side entrance.
I was here just a day ago, and nothing is different.
But now, I’m Adriano’s wife, and I live in the Marino Mansion on the other side of the city.
My standard of living hasn’t changed—if anything, it’s gotten better—except it’s like an entirely different world there.
This place is stuffy. It’s dark and quiet. It reeks of old privilege, long unearned at this point. I don’t even know how I belong here anymore.
Until footsteps hammer on the floor and Kennedy comes around the corner. “I was so worried!”
She slams into me with a big hug. I return it, squeezing hard. “I was freaking out,” I tell her. “Are you okay?”
“Totally fine. God, that was so crazy. I just keep thinking about it. All those people freaking out, stampeding, and that fire?—”
“I’m just thankful you’re okay.”
We hug tightly for a little while longer. It’s only then that I realize Kennedy doesn’t really work for me anymore. She’s employed at this house, but I don’t live here.
“Come on, I started packing for you last night.” She holds my hand as we walk through the strange and familiar halls together. “I was too amped up and had nothing else to do.”
“So you came to work?”
“No, I came to help out my friend.” She gives me a look as we step into my room.
Half my stuff is in boxes. She’s got everything organized already. Typical Kennedy. Tears well up in my eyes as I look at it all.
My entire life thrown onto the bed, stacked on the floor, and piled nearly into the corners of the room.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” I say, overwhelmed.
“My best friend’s wedding got car bombed. I feel like this was the least I could do.” She leans against me.
“You really mean that? I mean, you don’t work for me anymore, and it’s not like I have any of my own money?—”
Kennedy squeezes me tightly. “God, you’re such a mess.”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
She sighs and hugs me. “I love you, Lucy. I know you’ve got all these hang-ups and scars from the way people treated you in the past, but I’m not one of them. I told you before. I’m not your friend for money or anything like that. I’m your friend for you .”
That finally does it. Seeing my stuff like this, plus the stress of last night and my marriage, it all explodes in my chest. I hug her back and start crying like a baby.
“I’m sorry I’m such an idiot,” I say, sniffling, and she only laughs. We stay like that for a few minutes, two emotional girls dealing with their own stress and demons, until we finally break apart.
“Come on, let’s get you packed.” Her eyebrows raise as she looks at me. “And maybe changed? Whose stuff is that?”
“Bianca gave it to me.”
“Too small.” Her lips press together in a suppressed smile. “I bet Adriano liked it.”
“That’s what he said,” I mutter and fish out a new outfit. Once I’m in my own stuff, I slap my hands together. “Let’s do this. Luca and some of Adriano’s guys are waiting outside. I figure I’ll start carrying stuff out?”
“Sounds good to me.”
We get to work. Kennedy keeps organizing and packing in the room, and I start lugging boxes, bags, and wardrobes out to the men.
Luca insists on coming with me after the first trip, even though I try to wave him off.
At least I get to see Kennedy give him a nice, appreciative look up and down when the big man comes striding into my room and carries two heavy boxes without so much as breaking a sweat.
I trail after him with a few dresses in a bag.
“Lucille.” I stop in the hall and gesture to Luca to keep going. Grandmother’s standing in the doorway of a nearby sitting room. “I’d like a word.”
I’m too surprised by that relatively polite request to refuse her. She sits at a small table and pours tea. I drape the dresses over a chair and join her.
Grandmother looks immaculate as always. Fresh pink blouse and cream slacks. Age-appropriate and extremely chic. Despite the madness of the night before, there’s not a hair out of place. She looks as though she got a solid ten hours of uninterrupted sleep.
I brace myself for whatever she’s about to say.
Something about how I let her down. How my wedding was an embarrassment, and somehow it was all my fault.
I’ve played through this exact same scene a dozen times over the years, and I know how it goes.
She says something ruthless and cutting.
She makes me feel small and worthless. When I’m finally dismissed, I walk away in a daze, thinking maybe she was right; maybe I am just a worthless failure.
I know how this goes. I know all the tricks.
And I still know she’ll break me into little pieces like she always does.
“I wanted to give you some advice,” she says at last.
Which is not what I was expecting. “Advice?” I say, my voice a little squeaky.
“On marriage.” She says this so simply, like it’s no big thing. This woman has never tried to teach me anything past how to behave perfectly in a high-society setting. Now she wants to talk about marriage?
“Uh, okay, sure.” I don’t even know how to act right now.
“Be a good wife, Lucy.” She sips her tea and watches me. “Listen to your husband. Do as you’re told, but only to a point. You are your own person still, and don’t you ever forget it.”
“Right.” My jaw works, trying to form words. “I can do that?”
“Don’t let him own you, Lucille.” A little smile ghosts at her lips. “Unless that’s something you enjoy.”
Oh my god .
“I don’t know what you mean!” I say quickly, panicking.
“Marriage is a dance. It’s a power struggle. It can be good, and it can be bad. Your grandfather and I did not always get along, but we made our partnership work. You must navigate your new husband the best you can. Do you understand me? Advocate for the Willing-Morris cause.”
Leave it to Grandmother to make marriage sound like a literal war. “I’ll do my best.”
“I’m sure you will.” She puts her teacup down, just so. I don’t know how that woman manages it. She makes me look like a graceless pig sometimes with her simplest gestures. “I want you to hear something. Perhaps I’ll never say this again, but I feel as though you’re owed it.”
“Okay?”
“Lucille, I’m sorry.”
I think I black out. At least, it feels like I do. Helena Willing-Morris just apologized, which implies she has something to apologize for, which implies she somehow did something wrong. Which I always thought was impossible.
I can’t even fathom how this is happening.
She keeps talking, obviously ignoring my stunned stare.
“I never should have gotten involved with that man Demir Yilmaz, and I most certainly never should have involved you. Based on your reaction, I’m not sure you know the full story yet.
But you’ll understand soon enough. Everything I’ve done in my life has been in service of ensuring this family’s survival, and that deal with Yilmaz was no different.
However, I can see how it was wrong, and I am sorry to you specifically, Lucille.
You will have to deal with the fallout of my decisions.
God help you, and I pray you’re stronger than I think you are. ”
Holy hell. Grandmother apologizing and admitting a mistake. I’m having trouble forming thoughts. I almost miss that little dig at the very end, which is pretty standard for her.
“Thank you?”
“Don’t say it like a question, dear, it’s weak.” She gets up and begins clearing the tea. “I’ve said what I wanted to say. You’re dismissed.”
I stand up automatically. What does this mean? What exactly did she promise that Yilmaz man and how does it involve me? I want to ask her to explain, but I’ve been dismissed. I know better than to linger. I grab my dresses and leave the room.
I find Kennedy in the hall. She seems concerned. “Are you okay?” she whispers.
“I’m fine.” I glance over my shoulder. “She apologized.”
Kennedy looks stunned. “Seriously?”
“I know. I’m kind of in shock.”
“Is she sick? Oh, god, she’s finally dying, isn’t she?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Did the laws of physics flip upside down? Oh, no, I get it. Pigs are flying.”
“I think she just regrets a choice.” The weight of that conversation slowly settles on my shoulders. “And I have a feeling it has to do with that car bomb last night.”
Kennedy’s grin fades away. “Should we be worried?”
“Definitely.” I heft the dress bag. “But for now, let’s just get packed. I’ll figure this out later.”