Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
“No, I’m fine,” I yell, flushing the toilet quickly. It’s Luca’s voice on the other side of the door. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Dad called, he says there’s a bunch of wedding shit the planner’s bugging him about, and you’re not answering your phone. What the hell are you doing in there?”
I gather up all my stuff and shove it in the plastic shopping bag. If Luca sees this test and figures out what’s going on, I’m totally screwed.
“I can’t use the bathroom in peace in my own house?”
“No, you can’t fucking disappear a few days before your wedding, you numbskull. Come out and talk to Dad. He called me back from work for this shit.”
“You don’t have a real job!”
“I’m a busy man, Carmie! I run the fucking restaurant!”
It’s a goddamn front and runs itself, but I bite back that retort and flip him off through the door.
I gather myself in front of the mirror. Internally, I’m losing my goddamn mind. But externally, I make myself presentable.
I’m Carmela Marino. I’m the daughter of Bruno Marino, an important man. Sister of Daniel and Luca. A good Italian girl, a nice Catholic, always does her homework, obeys her family’s orders, doesn’t step out of line.
A nice girl.
Not the kind of slut that gets pregnant from a one-night stand.
“You sure you’re good?” Luca asks when I brush past him and head to my room. “What’s in the bag?”
“Lady shit. You wanna see my tampons now too?”
He snorts and crosses his arms over his chest. “I grew up in this house with you. I know how gross you are by now.”
I shove the bag of pregnancy tests—all used, all positive—into my drawer. “Tell Dad I’ll come down and talk to him in a little while.”
“You sure you’re good?” Luca glances at the wedding dress hanging on the back of the closet. “I know this is a lot. I mean, shit can’t be easy—”
“I’m fine.” I stare at him before forcing myself to smile big. That’s right, I’ve got it all together. I’m good to go. I’m normal, regular, happy Carmie, easygoing and amenable.
“Yeah, all right, Carms. Just go talk to the old man before he loses his fucking head. And if you need anything, ask me. I mean that. I know this sucks, but you’re doing the right thing.” He hesitates and I can tell he wants to say more, but he leaves it there and walks off.
I slump back against the bed and stifle a sob. I have to bite my lip to keep from breaking down.
I’m screwed. I’m so screwed. I’m beyond screwed—I’m destroyed.
Lev’s going to realize what happened, and he’s going to kill me. I can’t exactly hide a baby. And there’s no way in fucking hell I’m getting an abortion or anything like that—maybe this isn’t how I saw myself becoming a mom, but that still means something to me.
This baby’s mine, whether I wanted it or not, and now I have to figure out how I’m going to handle this absolute wreck of a situation.
Chapter 9
Lev
Iadjust my tie and stare at myself in the mirror. The mask is on, but it feels heavy, like my usual charming smile wants to slip off and reveal the inky black horrors underneath.
I hate this shit. I despise being the center of attention. It’s still early in the day, and I’m already exhausted. Everyone assumes that fun-loving, charismatic Lev loves a party, but they’re so fucking wrong. This sort of event exhausts me because it means I have to be on for hours.
I have to keep the mask firmly in place.
No slips. No excuses.
The wedding’s happening at the Fairmount Waterworks. It’s the old water station right next to the Schuylkill River, and it’s a gorgeous venue. Italians and Russians mingle indoors and on a huge patio area where the main reception will happen. The weather’s gorgeous, which is a bonus.
I haven’t seen my wife for longer than a few minutes. For all I know, she’s running away.
“You good, bro?” Alex steps into the little private room set aside for the groom’s side.
“Just taking a break.” I look sideways at him. Of everyone in the world, I could probably be myself the most around Alex. Except even that’s dangerous. “I was hoping for something small at the courthouse, and yet here we are.”
“Valentin Zeitsev requested this, and if that’s how the pakhan wants it—”
“That’s what the pakhan gets,” I finish for him.
He squeezes my shoulder. “Come on, it’ll be all right. Ceremony’s in a half hour. Dancing and dinner after that. Then it’s all done and you have yourself a pretty new Italian wife.”
“I’m so excited I can barely breathe.”
“Tell that to your face.” He stands beside me in the mirror. I’ve got a smirk plastered on, but it’s hard not to see the stress at my edges. “You know how much this means to everyone,” he says softly.