Fifteen minutes and three glasses of wine later, Luna finally makes an appearance. “Thank god you’re here. I’m engaged. Party is on Wednesday—and, oh yeah, I have no idea who my groom-to-be is,” I announce before Luna gets the chance to sit down.
“What now?” Georgia asks.
“Give me a name and I’ll find out everything about him,” Luna says.
“That’s the thing. Papa wouldn’t even tell me that. He just said I’ll meet him on Wednesday, at the engagement party.”
“Okay, well, I guess we’re going to need a dress. Something that will knock the socks off this mysterious groom.” Georgia smirks.
“Or a potato sack so he never wants to touch me at all,” I suggest.
“I wonder if he’ll do anything,” Luna murmurs.
“Who?” I ask.
She raises a brow at me. “When he finds out you’re engaged, he’s going to do something.”
“Hedoesn’t matter, andhedoesn’t exist,” I say. As in, the one guy I loved. Carlo Bianchi. Forever known as “he” because we don’t ever utter his name. I thought he loved me once, until he showed me that I meant absolutely nothing to him.
“You know my theories on him.” Luna shrugs. “Now, what are we thinking? White? Light pink?”
“Black, like something you’d wear to a funeral. Because this party might as well second as my wake,” I groan.
“It might not be that bad,” Georgia, ever the optimist, says.
“Or it could be worse,” I tell her.
“Orhecould swoop in and finally claim you,” Luna adds.
“Not gonna happen, and I wouldn’t want him to,” I grumble.
“You say that, but I know deep down you still love that man. Despite what he did.” She sighs.
Carlo did something unforgivable, unless you ask Luna. She’s always been Team Carlo and has theories that what I saw wasn’t real, claiming that he pushed me away on purpose. She also lives with her head in fantasy books, so her perception of the world isn’t really reliable.
“Okay, to your future wedding and to finally moving out of your father’s house.” Georgia raises her glass.
“To new beginnings.” I smile even if I’m dying on the inside.
“Or the second chapter of an old love.” Luna clinks her glass with mine.
I roll my eyes before swallowing what’s left of my wine.
Chapter Three
Iwatch Jazzy as she sits on the floor of my office, drawing in a coloring book. She’s got markers, stickers, and all sorts of other shit spread out around her. The DNA test results came in a week ago. She’s mine. But I already knew that. I felt it.
“Fuck, shit,” I curse out when something dawns on me.
She jumps and looks up. “What happened?”
“I just realized something. You should be in school, right?” I ask her. “I mean, kids your age… they go to school.”
Her face drops. The smile that I’ve grown to love disappears. “I was hoping you wouldn’t think about that,” she says.
“You don’t like school?”
She doesn’t answer. But she does drop and shake her head.
