Chapter 22 Kira #2
I figure we sign documents next. Prenup, marriage certificate, name change, that sort of stuff.
Instead, Stellan steps forward, presses me against him with one hand on the small of my back, and cradles my chin in his other hand.
He stares into my eyes for one knee-shaking moment before pressing his lips to mine.
I'm so surprised, I kiss him right back.
It's a good kiss too. I've had some bad kisses in my day. Sloppy, ugly, bored kisses. This isn't one of those.
This is the kind of kiss that starts a new life. Or maybe it ends one.
I pull back with a start as the three gathered witnesses start clapping.
Gem wipes a tear from her eyes, and I grin at her uncertainly, dizzy and off-balance from the taste of Stellan flooding into me.
His hand still rests on the small of my back, and doesn't he know this is fake? He can stop pretending anytime.
“Time to celebrate,” Matteo says, cracking open a bottle of champagne on the outdoor table. “Surely, Kira, your sister can have one glass?”
I glance at her. “Just one. She's still in high school.”
“No, it's okay—” But she accepts it and takes a sip anyway. Her nose wrinkles, and her eyes brighten. “Bubbly.”
Everyone laughs, even the priest.
After that, the paperwork happens in earnest. The priest takes it all with him when it’s over. Saverino takes care of the prenup, and I get the sense he’s the Corsetti lawyer. “All boilerplate stuff, no worries. In the event of something happening, you’ll be taken care of,” he assures me.
“Is that in the document?”
“Well, not officially, but—”
“Add it.” Stellan’s hand brushes my elbow. I swear, ever since we got married, he hasn’t stopped touching me.
“Are you sure?” Saverino looks uncomfortable. “This language is very standard, I assure you.”
“Add it in,” Stellan insists. “I want to make sure no matter what, Kira and Gem are covered. If I pass, they get assets. If we divorce, she’s entitled to a small percentage.” Saverino looks like he wants to argue, but the weight of Stellan’s glare makes him keep his mouth shut. “Make it happen.”
There’s no dancing. There’s no castle-shaped cake. Matteo and Saverino leave after an hour. Gem doesn’t finish her single glass of champagne. I throw that back for her, plus another, and another. Stellan drinks his whiskey like he’s brooding on his own demise, and maybe he is, who knows.
By dinner, we’re alone.
“Let me ask you something.” We’re sitting together on the porch, watching the sun sink. I’m tired and hungry. The ring on my finger feels unreal. The ring on his finger is even worse. “Why did my father do it?”
He looks over. “I don’t know.”
“But you all talked to him, right? After he got caught?”
“Nobody told me a damn thing.”
“Didn’t you want to know?”
He takes a long drink and finally shakes his head. “No. I didn’t.”
“Why not?” An angry desperation floods me. “If it’d been me, I would’ve wanted to know.”
“I was young and pissed off. I felt personally betrayed—like he’d done it just to hurt me. I wrote him off. I acted like I didn’t care. And by the time I realized I really did, he was long dead. Can’t ask a corpse a damn thing.”
I sigh, leaning my head back. “You two really were close.”
“I grew up with two fathers. One I loved and called Bryan. The other I hated and called Dad.”
“Lucky you. I grew up with a dad too, until you murdered him.”
“He murdered himself.”
I tighten my grip on my glass. “No. He didn’t. He had a reason, and I bet it was a good one. You could’ve let him go.”
“That’s not how it works in this life, and you know it. Imagine the message that would’ve sent. Steal from us and we forgive you. Every two-bit thief in the damn city would make a beeline for our drug houses. It’d be chaos.”
“Doesn’t really make me feel better.”
“I know. I’m sorry. It’s the truth, though. Your father knew what he was doing when he took that book. Now it’s up to us to get it back.”
“You mean, it’s up to you. None of this is my problem.”
Stellan doesn’t reply. He drinks his drink and glares at the sky like he thinks the weight of his stare is going to call down an archangel to help sort out his problems. Unfortunately for him, there’s no holy host or godly trumpets. Just some clouds from the east.
“I want to be alone tonight,” I say quietly. My voice sounds small and far away.
“No.”
“I know it’s our wedding night.” My stomach twists into nervous knots. “I know most people want to… you know…”
“I have a feeling most people are too drunk to consummate the night of their wedding.”
“Right. Well. Even still.” I curl into myself. “I want to be alone tonight.”
“I had nothing to do with your father’s death.”
“You didn’t stop it.”
“I was young.” He stands, pushing himself to his feet. He stares, jaw tight, and I wonder if maybe my father’s death still hurts him now. Not that it matters. He’s one of them, whether he likes it or not.
I am too now.
“I’ll sleep on Gem’s floor tonight, okay? Pretend like there’s an invisible wall keeping you downstairs.”
He looks at me for a long, tense moment, before nodding. “But just for tonight. Tomorrow, you’re my wife, and my wife belongs by my side. We have one more ceremony to complete.”
“We do?”
He brushes past me. I’m tempted to reach out and touch him, to draw him back. I don’t have to draw myself away. He’s right, he was young, and he loved my father too. Why do I keep blaming him for what his old man did?
“Tomorrow, I become the Don, and I’ll need my wife by my side.”
I twist to look at him. He stands silhouetted in the back sliding door. “I’ll be there. That’s why you married me, right?”
A long look which suggests no, that’s not right, but he only turns and disappears inside.
Leaving me alone. Married and alone.