7
Aida
My brothers are in an uproar about my father’s insane plan.
Dante didn’t say anything on the drive home, but I heard him arguing with Papa for hours afterward while shut up together in the study.
It was pointless. Papa is stubborn as a mule. A Sicilian mule that only eats thistles and will kick you in the teeth if you get too close. Once his mind is made up, not even the trump of judgment day could change it.
Honestly, Armageddon would be a welcome respite from what’s actually about to happen.
The very first day after the deal is struck, I get a message from Imogen Griffin telling me about some engagement party on Wednesday night. An engagement party! As if there’s something to celebrate here, and not just a slow-motion train wreck in process.
She also shipped me a ring in a box.
I fucking hate it, of course. It’s a big old square diamond on a bedazzled band, chunky and sure to bang against everything. I keep it shut up in its box on my nightstand, because I have no intention of wearing it before I absolutely have to.
The only good thing in this mountain of shit is that at least Sebastian is doing a little better. He had to have surgery to reconstruct his ACL, but we got the best doctor in the city, the same one who fixed Derrick Rose’s knee. So, we’re hoping he’ll be up and around again before long.
In the meantime, I’ve been going to the hospital to visit him every day. I brought him all his favorite snacks—Reese’s Peanut-butter Cups, string cheese, and salted cashews—and also his schoolbooks.
“Have you ever opened these before?” I tease him, laying the textbooks on his nightstand.
“Once or twice,” he says, grinning from the hospital bed.
The little nighty-thing they gave him to wear is ridiculously tiny on his giant body. His long legs stretch out from under it, his bandaged knee propped up with a pillow.
“You don’t walk around in that thing, do you?” I ask him.
“Only when the hot nurse is on duty.” He winks.
“Gross,” I say.
“You better get used to all things romantic,” Sebastian says. “Since you’re about to be a blushing bride . . .”
“Don’t joke about that,” I snap at him.
Seb gives me a sympathetic look.
“Are you worried?” he says.
“No!” I say at once, though it’s a complete lie. “They’re the ones that should be worried. Callum, especially. I’m gonna strangle him in his sleep the first chance I get.”
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Sebastian warns me. “This is serious, Aida. It’s not like your semester in Spain or that internship you took with Pepsi. You can’t just skip out of this if you don’t like it.”
“I know that,” I tell him. “I know exactly how trapped I’m about to be.”
Sebastian frowns, hating to see me upset.
“Have you talked to Papa?” he says. “Maybe if you tell him—”
“It’s pointless,” I interrupt. “Dante argued with him all night. He’s not going to listen to anything I have to say.”
I look at Sebastian’s knee, bandaged to twice its normal size and bruised all the way up the thigh.
“Anyway,” I say quietly, “I brought this on myself. Papa’s right—I made this mess, and now I’ve got to fix it.”
“Don’t be a martyr just cause my leg got fucked,“ Sebastian says. “You marrying that psychopath isn’t going to fix it.”
“It won’t fix your knee,” I say, “but it might stop anything else from happening.”
There’s silence between us for a minute, and then I say, “I’m really sorry that—”
“Don’t apologize again,” he says. “I mean it. First off, it wasn’t your fault.”
“Yes, it was.”
“No, it wasn’t. We all chose to go to the party. You didn’t make that meathead stomp on me. And second, even if it was your fault, I wouldn’t care. I’ve got two knees, but only one sister.”
I can’t help snorting at that.
“That’s really sweet, Seb.”
“It’s true. So come here.”
I come closer to the bed so Sebastian can give me a side-arm hug. I rest my chin on his hair, which is the messier and curlier than ever. It feels like lamb’s wool against my skin.
“Quit beating yourself up about it. I’ll be fine. You just figure out a way to get along with the Griffins. Because going into this like you’re going into battle is only going to make things harder,” Seb says.
That’s the only way I know how to do it, though—head down, covered in armor. I approach everything as a fight.
“When can you leave?” I ask Sebastian. “Cause apparently I’m supposed to have an engagement party tomorrow night . . .”
“I wish I could come,” Sebastian says wistfully. “Them and us, all forced to dress up fancy and be nice to each other. I’d love to see it. Take pictures for me, at least.”
“I don’t think they’ll show up in a photo,” I tell him. “Bunch of blood-sucking vampires.”
Sebastian just shakes his head at me.
“You want any water or anything before I go?” I ask him.
“Nah,” he says. “But if the hot redheaded nurse is out there, tell her I look all pale and sweaty and I probably need a sponge bath.”
“No way,” I tell him. “And also, still gross.”
“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he says, leaning back against his pillow with his arms propping up his head.
All too soon, it’s time for the Griffins’ stupid engagement party. I feel like these people would throw a party for the opening of an envelope. They’re so ridiculous and showy.
Still, I know I’m supposed to behave myself and put on a good face for it. This will be the first test of my compliance.
I wish I had someone to get ready with. I loved growing up with all brothers, but it’s times like this that a little feminine company wouldn’t go amiss.
It would be nice if I had someone to assure me that I don’t look like half-melted sherbet in this stupid dress I bought. It’s yellow with scallops along the hem. It looked alright on the mannequin, but now that I’m trying it on at home, I feel like a little kid all dressed up for Easter. All I need is a straw basket over my arm.
At least Papa nods in approval when he sees it.
“Good,” he says.
He’s wearing a suit. Dante has on a black t-shirt and jeans, and Nero’s wearing a leather jacket.
My brothers are refusing to dress up on principle. A silent protest. I wish I could do the same.
We drive together to Shoreside, where the Griffins are hosting the party. The restaurant is already packed with guests. I recognize more of the people than I expected—our families run in some of the same circles, and I did go to the same school as Nessa and Riona, though I was between the two of them and not in the same grade.
I wonder for a moment if Callum went there, too. Then I crush that thought. I don’t care where Callum went. I’m not curious about him in the slightest.