Page 195 of Making Choices

After brushing my lips against her cheek, I murmur, “Thank you, Mumma.”

My gaze skitters around the chapel unbidden once more.

When I try to pull back to my full height, my mumma holds tight. “He’s not here—wouldn’t be, even if he could make it.”

“Who?”

“Venom.”

“I don’t—I’m not—”

“Yeah, you are.”

I exhale until my lungs are empty.

Letting go of my tie, Mumma allows me to lapse into silence while she fusses about straightening my tuxedo jacket with exaggerated movements. I ignore her hushed search for the right wisdom to impart as I once again attempt to seek out comfort in the sight of the controlled chaos of the final wedding preparations. Mumma smooths down the sapphire-coloured silk of my tie, once, twice, three times, before I capture her hand in mine. I run my eyes over her face, and as always, my attention is immediately captured by the scar that bisects her cheek.

Her painful past is visible.

A sign of the carnage Cherub would face with Hugh St. James.

Yet another reminder why this plan needs to work.

Even if the only viable outcome I can see is a lifetime of unhappiness for my duchess.

“Do you regret outin’ yourself to the Trinity for us?”

“No.” Mumma’s answer is firm, even as she relaxes in my grip. “I can count on two hands the people I’d willingly return from the dead to save, and I’ll have you know that Cherub and Venom are firmly on that list with you.”

“I hate him.” The truth trips from my lips. In its wake, the tension banding my chest releases a notch and I drag in a full breath for the first time since I regained consciousness this morning. “But I wish he was here. He should be here—standin’ at the head of the aisle with me while she walks its length.”

“Which one of you is she walkin’ toward in this fantasy world of yours?”

“Both of us.” As another bout of honesty tumbles free, I step out of Mumma’s reach and jam my hands in my long hair. “Fuck. Me. Dead. That’s not what I meant to say.”

“Yes, it was. You’re a smart lad. I know you’ve worked the angles, crunched all the numbers, calculated every odd. You know that the only way for this ridiculous scheme to have a happy endin’ is for you two to make peace with each other. If you make her choose between you, mo ulaidh bheag will deny you both her heart... which is what makes her such a treasure in the first place. That girl will burn to spare you two from the inferno.”

“Mumma.” Desperation laces that single word. It knots around it, pulling tight as I try my hardest not to wilt under the weight of her indictment. “Don’t say that. She’s my duchess.” Like a caveman, I pound my chest, right over my heart. “Mine. I love her. I’ll be good to her. She’ll be safe with me.”

“I know.” Eyebrows drawn together, mouth ajar, the look I give my mother is filled with confusion. She laughs, a low chuckle that holds little humour. “He knows that too... which is the only reason he’s able to go through with the plan. ’Cause as much as Cherub’s your duchess, she’s his metukà shelì.” When she pauses, I find myself nodding my reluctant agreement with her statement. Smiling, my mother then continues flaying me alive with the frank reality of the situation I’ve help create. “You and I both know that that girl is the only reliably sweet thing he’s had in his life since the day he was born. His mother, God rest her soul, did a right number on him with her selfish ways. Hades, well, he tried, but he was a twenty-year-old first year patch forced into a shotgun marriage with a self-centred woman he didn’t love. Venom was doomed from the start... until his Lily shone her light on his broken, little heart and started to heal it in that inimitable way of hers.” There’s a tremor in my mumma’s hand when she lightly slaps the side of my clean-shaven jaw. “Just like she did for you twelve years later.”

“Fuck.” The vise that’d started to let up its grip on my chest returns with vengeance. It fast becomes unbearable. Unbreathable. I shove my hand in my pocket and touch the pendants on the bracelet. “What’s the point of this walk down memory lane?”

Mumma’s accent is thick as she tells me, “The point, laddie, is that a heart as big as Cherub’s was never going to be filled by one man. It was always going to take the pair of yer, together, to provide the love she needs—the love she deserves. And I’m proud of ya for swallowin’ your pride and steppin’ up when Venom asked you to marry her to protect her. That was a big step for yer both, and it fills me with hope that this war that’s been brewin’ between ya can be averted.”

“Not sure how true that is... he’ll be—he is gone. I’m here. She’s mine.”

“For now.”

Although there’s a lump wedged in my throat, I force myself to swallow down the recriminations I want to shout at my mumma. Her laconic response is a bullet to the chest since I know she’s right, even if she doesn’t understand the full extent of the moves we’re making. Our plan might be sound, despite the objections I raised, but the odds can switch in a heartbeat.

Here today, gone tomorrow.

My duchess is on the cusp of learning exactly how cruel life can be while I’m readying myself to take advantage of the enforced distance between her and Venom. Their separation is my boon. One with an unknown time limit and repercussions that will last a lifetime.

I have an undefined period to gain her trust and secure her heart as mine.

Because the moment the odds flip, I’m going to find myself in Venom’s position instantly.

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