Page 99 of Monster's Edge
He’s not anyone’s.
He’s not even mine.
“I understand,” I finally say, and Ian seems satisfied with this. For now. I’m not sure how long his satisfaction is going to last, but I’ll take it.
2
Our wedding receptionreally is a beautiful affair. I’m not quite sure what I thought was going to happen when Ian and I arrived back at the mansion, but a traditional party with dinner, cake slicing, and dancing wasn’t it.
That’s what I get, though. I get it all. The entire wedding day experience is mine for the taking. It’s mine for the memory making.
I spent the entire evening dancing and laughing with Georgetta. Even Eduardo gets in on the fun. As it turns out, Ian is an incredible dancer, and he’s not so serious that he won’t dance with me for a few songs. That surprises me.
Soon, though, the crowd starts to thin, and the caterers begin to pack up. It’s then that I’m left with Ian, Georgetta, Eduardo, and a handful of other people I recognize, but have never actually spoken to. A few of my father’s old business associates are still here. Hopefully none of them knew he planned to sell me off to an asshole. Then again, if they know about it, then they know Ian managed to save me from all of that.
This means they also know that he’ll do anything to protect me.
I’m still feeling buzzed and relaxed and happy as the party winds down. I find myself leaning against Ian. I know what he said earlier. I know he promised that he doesn’t love me and that our relationship isn’t going to be some sort of traditional romance, but that’s okay with me. Maybe it has to do with the things my father has always done or perhaps it just has to do with life in the mafia, but I don’t know if I really believe that most people are actually capable of loving another.
I’m not even sure if I am.
Perhaps if I have a child, as Ian wants me to, then I’ll feel differently. Maybe if the two of us become parents, I’ll know what it feels like to love and admire another person. Still, I’m not completely sure. I’m nottotallyon board with this idea because to me, it still seems like an impossibility.
I’ve never pictured myself as a mother.
Ian has, though.
Eventually, the last few guests leave and soon it’s just the four of us sitting together in one of the sitting rooms.
“You really outdid yourself,” Georgetta says to Ian.
“The party was fantastic,” Eduardo agrees. “Wonderful turnout, too. Good food. It was lovely.”
“It was,” I murmur, reaching for Ian’s hand. I squeeze it gently. He turns to me, surprised. He’s always surprised when I offer him these little touches of kindness or compassion. It’s like he expects for everything in the world to be utterly painful.
It’s not.
