Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“Papa’s here?” I’m honestly shocked. I turn to look at her and she isn’t sure if she should smile or hug me. I make the decision easy: I hug her first. I don’t know why but I crave some normalcy and I’m strangely happy that Papa made an appearance.
“It’s not an ideal wedding, but he’s your father. Did you really think he’d miss this for anything?”
“I wasn’t sure what to think. He dropped me off here and couldn’t wait to get away. I almost assumed he didn’t care.”
“He cares. They always care. It’s just hard.” She pulls back and dabs at my eyes. “Don’t start crying, okay? You can do this. Deep breaths. One foot in front of the other. Just move forward.”
“Move forward,” I echo, nodding once. I can’t tell if she’s saying that because she’s one of them or if she’s truly trying to be helpful, but either way she’s right: there’s nothing I can do now but move forward.
The day’s beautiful. The back patio is decorated with flowers, like they brought in every single bouquet in the entire state and threw them all over. It’s gorgeous, I have to admit, and it’s like the decorations are all for me. Nobody else would give a damn and there are no guests. The family hangs around, talking softly. My papa stands with Casso by the pool. Elise is the first person to greet me when I step outside with Karah on my arm.
“You look amazing,” she says, kissing the air beside my cheek. She’s wearing so much makeup it’s like her cheeks are painted on. “Oh, simply lovely. I mean it too. Do I ever lie, Karah?”
“Constantly.”
“That’s unfair and you know it.” Elise laughs and hugs me. “Okay, I lie all the time, but not right now.”
“Welcome to the family,” Gavino says when Elise pulls back. “Maybe not how you always imagined, but we tried.” He looks dashing in a dark suit. They all do, like a family of models. Fynn congratulates me awkwardly, looking like he’s not sure what else to say, and I accept it. Why fight? Why make it harder? I could scream, I could struggle, and these monsters wouldn’t give a damn. In some ways, it’d be easier—they’d have a good reason to tie me to a chair, gag me, and make sure I’m quiet.
Casso turns as I descend the walkway toward the wedding awning where a priest stands talking quietly with Nico. I catch Casso’s eye, and the initial surprise, followed by an intense smile and a hint of pride makes my heart do triple-time. He’s excited—he likes the way I look—and that scares me and excites me, and I’m not sure what to do with these feelings.
Papa joins me. We embrace, he kisses my cheek, tells me how proud he is of me in Spanish, and the family gathers in front of the priest.
It takes ten minutes to become Casso’s wife and at the end of the ceremony, he kisses me chastely, and the family claps.
That’s it. No pomp, no circumstance. No music, no harps, no doves, no rose petals, no crying, no laughter, no joy. No beauty, no happiness. No future.
I’m dizzy. The sun’s too hot and the sky’s too blue. I wonder if I could fall into the pool and never resurface. Papa says something about how happy Mama would be if she could see this, though I truly doubt that, and brunch is served. I disappear inside, making some excuse about needing water.
I have no appetite, and the idea of sitting around and eating with this family of vultures seems impossible. I’m a captive in their game, a tool for them. Nothing more. Pretending otherwise seems absurd, and I wonder if I can simply sneak into my room, lock the door, and pretend like nothing’s changed.
But everything has.
Casso finds me standing in the darkness in the main living room staring at family pictures in silver frames. “You all look so young,” I say quietly as he moves up close against me. I lift one of the pictures and wonder if I can ever feel like I belong here.
He takes the photo I was studying: a group shot of all the siblings and both his parents wearing matching outfits at Disneyland. It’s strangely normal. Disturbingly so. The contrast between what they do—death, pain, money, crime—and the simplicity of a family vacation is strangely intense.
“I didn’t want to do this,” he says, smiling to himself, and for a second, I think he means the wedding, but no, he’s remembering the trip. “Mother and Karah insisted. And the rest of us went along with it because what else could we do? My whole life’s been about family in one way or another. Trying to live up to expectations. Trying to make everyone happy, safe, protected. Trying to feed my mouths.”